An overwhelming sense of fun pervades First Taste, as further epitomized in a couple of wacky drum solos that are so maniacal they'll bring a smile to your face. All in all, Ty Segall's obviously having fun as a result of being chiefly interested in entertaining himself.

The album as a whole has that feel; it's perfect late night or Sunday morning music, though this might damage its broader appeal.

The end result is an album full of tracks that sound so warmly familiar that they instantly seem like old friends.

Despite not taking any drastic leaps, he’s once again delivered another wide-eyed, hypnotic set that finds a satisfactory compromise between quasi-ambient soundscapes and headphone-nodding grooves.

An eight-song trove of volume, emotional density, and social critique, its commonalities with sounds cultivated by labels like Touch & Go and Amphetamine Reptile not so much evidentiary of retread as they are respectful and refreshing pulls from an era of dissonant rock plentitude. ... Noise rock excellence.

[Sadie Dupuis] leads from the front with an outrageous level of assuredness and a delightful penchant for a hook.

A raw, yet purposeful execution that never spoils his clear-headed grasp.

Finn is operating at a whole new level of finesse here, and gifts us something truly beautiful.

It's a familiar, though still firm, return.

At 58 minutes, it does run a little long—and I probably would’ve cut songs like On Track or the two-minute flatliner Glimmer. But every time I’ve started this album since it clicked with me, I’ve finished it. Isn’t that the most you can ask of any record?

Clocking in at a brisk 28 minutes, Harm's Way unfolds with not a minute wasted, similar to Weezer's Green Album. And while they couldn't be more far apart in tone and ambition, they're comparable in how they progress with limited dynamic range and a generous amount of hooks.

Maybe it’s not the showiest of returns, but instead, she proves that the toughest battles are the ones that happen inside us.

There are certainly faults here to be rectified, but this album represents yet another very good entry in his discography, not spectacular but representative of what will likely be among the best 5 hip-hop albums of 2013 along with Brown and Sweatshirt's releases.

Ultimately an excellent record. Where the message is muddied, thankfully the music is often, simply put, beautiful.

Get Color goes by fast and leaves the listener satisfied but begging for more wonderful, eardrum punishing noise.

Even at their blandest, and truthfully their dumbest, AC/DC make a compelling case why they're so good at this rock n' roll business. As it turns out, the secret is to stick to the formula until their dying day.

Slogging through the whole disc for the few shining moments just isn’t worth it.

Dear Tommy may still be lost in the ether, and who knows when Jewel decides to complete it. But Closer to Grey feels like a fully-fleshed concept, and it should be considered the long-awaited follow-up to Kill for Love fans have been clamoring for for years.

For Kasabian fans this will be a fine, perhaps even happy result--another album in a similar vein to satiate your lust for new music, but the nagging thought catches as it wonders how new, interesting or innovative any of this really is; the short answer is no, it's not.

Twisted Crystal is not pastiche, but it’s a stylistic reminder that music can be exciting, that pop music can be thoughtful and creatively liberating, and that being “catchy” isn’t necessarily a bad thing. For them, this magic is easy.

These songs probably sound otherworldly when played live, but the over-laden stylization actually fills Lungs with unnecessary fat.

As you listen, you can easily picture a campfire in a forest, stars in the sky and Laura Gibson, guitar cradled in her arms, mumbling her way through an upbeat breezy folk song that implies some inner sadness while at the same time being entirely optimistic and happy.

Ultimately, The Wild Hunt's stumbles are too little to mask what could be Matsson's finest hour. He may act as if he's the tallest man on earth, but he may very well literally be a talent of Goliath proportions.

Despite the uncontrollable urge Hundred Waters have to cram in too much of their creative energy, they surely have the prowess to write an ornate pop record that puzzles out through well-crafted scrutiny.

A little complexity never hurt anyone, and in Mourn's case, it's beginning to take them in new and interesting directions.

There’s a quietly accomplished record waiting to be discovered by those who are prepared to approach with patience.

What's most impressive is there's not a moment wasted in these twelve satisfying tracks, beginning and ending the narrative with a contemplation that also achieves the difficult task of feeling complete.

Rather than taking many risks, The King of Whys polishes the most successful aspects of past Owen albums, making it one of the strongest albums in Kinsella’s vast discography; the home truths may not make it an enjoyable listen, but it’s definitely worthwhile.

Just because something “sounds” like a classic record, it doesn’t mean it is.

It feels churlish to criticise Everything Everything for trying different things, but all too often their efforts feel like lightweight flirtations with a style rather than committed explorations.

From subtle synth stabs to soft rock explorations, Hamilton and Thomas open their songwriting possibilities by paying attention to nuance. It's in those shadings that their music takes shape: slowly but surely, and with unassuming confidence.

Flasher may have the attitude of their eighties DC counterparts, but they ultimately channel their thinking person's punk aesthetic by attempting to rewrite its traditions altogether.

If you have everything by the Scottish gang of five, this is good excuse to remind yourself of their genius in different circumstances. If you are new to them, then it is a fine introduction to a band whose importance and integrity over the years is unquestionable.

There's a lot to love in Dedicated, but Jepsen tries to cover too ground even if they follow similar song structures, to the point where it may bring some boredom--it's best to stream individual tracks instead of listening to the album's fifty minutes straight through.

All Day is Girl Talk's cleanest album in that sense. Pitch disagreements are virtually non-existent, and save for one ill-advised Creep mash-up, it's as close to perfect as he can possibly get.

As it is, Dedication seems like a bit of a missed opportunity; as collection of ideas it may be incredible, but as an album it's just insubstantial.

This is a truly mesmerizing follow-up for a band with few peers and even fewer fears.

Shapeshifting isn't just something from which to go forward; it's an absolute success in everything it tries. I only wish Young Galaxy had pushed a bit more, because there's no doubt that this could have been so much more.

The spontaneity they carve sounds scattershot at times, sometimes veering into ludicrous artiness for no reason whatsoever, the dragged-out seven minute instrumental Victoria a fitting example, though they always consolidate their full efforts in a way that’s fun and endlessly listenable.

Truly, Wild Beasts are those rarest of animals; true, untamed originals.

UZU is further indication that Yamantaka // Sonic Titan aim to get bigger, but hopefully they don’t forget that coherence suits them well.

All in all, this isn't a bad direction to go after fifteen studio albums and countless other releases (600 songs!) into a career, as Darnielle again proves that his excessive specificity as a storyteller doesn't mean he can't tell us something about our own lives.

Both pared down and unengaging at the same time, this appears to be a dead end.

while Roll the Dice's single-minded desire to evoke and capture the mundane and nightmarish may make In Dust sound like a rather joyless and difficult prospect, they fortunately still manage to include more than enough moments of bleak beauty to make it worth the repeat visits.

It's certainly heavier, but it's tuneful and heavy at the same time.

A most personal and intimate collection of demos and early takes from George's personal archive of recordings which he left behind

Yak haven’t reinvented the wheel, but their work is invigorating in its own right.

The cheeky nature of Rock and Roll Night Club inadvertently elevates its reputation--falling somewhere between classic pop and performance art, DeMarco's talent for writing hooks should spurn any attempt to call it novelty.

A focused, yet relaxed, song-writing atmosphere has resulted in something completely sophisticated yet entirely effortless, and genuinely warm.

When it’s all said and done, it’s a bit of a blur, but in the same way that looking back on a good evening might be when you wake up for work a day or two later. You’re glad it happened, but it might not stick with you.

The album is the sort of ridiculous over-commitment to a style that is appealing and fun to hear, even if it's not great.

Flood is a musical and lyrical leap forward that delivers a multitude of rewards. That it ends in Donnelly’s strongest composition to date makes for literal icing on the cake.

Taken as a whole, Castle Talk is leaps and bounds ahead of any other Screaming Females album. Take the album track by track, however, and you'll notice the very few tracks that just fall flat on their face.

Combining 60s girl pop and 70s garage pop with the lo-fi mist that, admittedly, shares common ground with bands like Wavves, Vivian Girls and No Age, Dum Dum Girls come up with a very relevant and heartwarming throwback.

It’s impressive in small doses, but as Culture progresses you get a strong sense of deja vu, where each track upends the next with a petty familiarity that is just frustratingly repetitive.

While it would be remiss to question an artist’s chosen working methods, perhaps if Elizabeth hadn’t been quite so fiercely independent in its recording, and had had to compete with the usual unwanted distractions of the outside world, then Dancing might not have been just an impressively accomplished album, but a more striking, perhaps even outright essential one.

As Marshall proves time and time again, you don’t need original compositions to express how you’re feeling; Covers exudes confidence and hints at a new-found peace. It’s a delightful listen.

All but doing away with the wry humor of the group's earlier work, Hot Chip's lyrics on One Life Stand focus on affection and romance in a way that says, “We’ve settled down.” However, the stylistic decisions betray the fact that they are still searching for their center.

A record that is rich, varied and a little crackers as well, Lovers will certainly stand as one of the best debut albums of the year.

A group of veteran musicians who are committed to their craft, carrying themselves with stylish grace one crushing ballad at a time.

Glass Boys is a more than worthy accomplishment from a band that has been too busy playing by their own rules and constantly rewriting what it means to be punk to care about others expectations.

At present, their light out-of-the-box exploits feel more like comfort food, but there's no denying that once they develop their experimental ways they'll move out of stagnancy.

Like those early EPs, Gloss Drop relies more heavily on complex rhythms and wonky melodies to get its point across.

Of the twelve tracks on show, the first eight are endlessly listenable and demonstrate the fact that when on form, Morrissey sure knows how to write a tune.

Preoccupations is a strong follow-up to an excellent debut record. It showcases a band that is evolving and finding new ways to stretch out their sound.

As more challenging and artful pieces like The Morning is Waiting prove, the Brewises’ love for intricate harmonies will always go hand in hand with slick pop hooks.

Ultimately Conatus makes for a very sensuous, luxurious forty minutes, but it's minor flaws like these that prevent it from hitting quite as hard as it could have done, and from being the unqualified success that Stridulum II was.

While another concise and accomplished release from an immensely talented rapper, it fails to really deliver the one thing Kanye's always excelled at: beauty.

From the album's onset, you're treated to both the abrasive and the profane.

An exceptionally fierce indie pop record.

Side-by-side with an "original" release, especially 2002's Control, a bit of life just seems to be missing in this resurrection.

Like Grouper before her, she’s wonderful at exploring those liminal spaces, washing over and subtly overwhelming you.

Strawberry Jam, 2007’s strongest album so far.

If you’ve yearned for a band that takes that dramatic indie-rock template but injects a bit of post-rock drama into it, then boy, have you ever come to the right place.

Although Trev gives Stuart Murdoch's songs a freshness and clarity that is entirely complimentary, the decision to unleash a flurry of TV melodrama string arrangements or flashy showbiz brass on half the songs leads to results that range from tolerable over-egging at best and annoying inanity at worst.

As it stands, Yo La Tengo has created a solid gold collection of nine tracks.

Across Head Cage’s 12 tracks (yes, 12, not 25), Pig Destroyer focus not on being the fastest, loudest, craziest band on Earth, but on simply doing it better. They still do all of the aforementioned better than anyone else (Dark Train, Trap Door Man), but more often than not, they take that intensity and lock it into steadier groves, shifting moods and hookier riffs.

Chaz Bundick and Toro Y Moi have with Underneath The Pine taken a step back from the Chillwave label, and a very positive step forward.

[Your] chances of finding a more assured and promising debut this year are pretty slim.

Raw Money Raps plays out like an exhaustive thesis work on how to expertly handle the art of hip-hop sampling. It's really a treat that an artist like Jae is wise enough to spend most of his energy figuring out how to manipulate different sounds instead of writing himself up as the next cool, swaggering martyr.

This album shines when Barnett allows some light to get in. There’s no immediate pull here but it rewards a listeners' patience, especially for those who preferred her breezy EPs over the bustle of her first two albums. It may be less consistent than her previous albums, but Barnett’s newfound willingness to be vulnerable means there’s every chance it will be remembered as her most significant work to date.

Owens consistently and effortlessly locates sweet spots without ever falling into a specific alcove, showing a maturity and understanding of her craft seldom seen on a debut LP.

Chastity Belt lose some of their past work’s more tunefully intricate contours in favor of a more streamlined approach that weakens their innate potency. Though Shapiro bares herself with affecting honesty, it appears as if the band hasn’t found a way to translate her more melancholy bearing without resorting to pleasant-sounding tedium.

What we have here is an album’s worth of incredibly passive, indifferent music-making.

They made one of the most interesting records of the year.

Some of that punchy vitality has been lost, but never does it obscure Powell’s ability to add bold expressions to her fine-grained accounts.

Mostly it is simply an impressively touching and intensely human affair--right now, it seems, nobody does melancholy quite like Girls.

Measure can be described as being the metamorphosis that translates Field Music’s born again status. Ambitious as it sounds, it locks itself into a pop compendium, which has always been a strong suit in the past.

He has created such a strong, affecting soundscape that for the most part of the record it is uncomfortable to listen to. Whether that is by design or not, Ejimiwe has administered a macabre marriage of sound and speak that are made for each other.

Lover is a plethora of things: a Taylor Swift genre sampler, an argument that Jack Antonoff is her best collaborator, a continuation of her problem with lead singles, and a collection of great synthpop songs, but the best part of it is that Taylor seems like she’s never been better. She’s unburdened by love, and that explosive happiness makes itself present across this record.

Consistent, assured, and suitably varied, Brink is a very impressive debut from a band with a bright future. Confuse them with Scouting for Girls at your peril.

Cloud Nothings might still be young and quite indebted to their 90’s influences, but their latest shows they’ve already mastered all the qualities of a truly great rock band and all of their contradictions: fury, angst, precision, sloppiness, catchiness and, of course, fun.

There is not a single dud track on No Color, and even if The Dodos haven't attempted anything they didn't try before, it certainly plays well to their strengths.

Dupuis has engineered a candied vehicle to convey a highly relevant paradigm, and although its lo-fi sound means that the messages aren’t as bullish as they could be, it is sonically deft, and an excellent record.

It’s never a bad record, or even less than listenable--the individuals behind it have more than enough good taste and sense for that to happen--but it is a mildly disappointing one, considering the sheer potential of those early releases.

The Monitor makes the listener feel unified with the band in their alienation. The Most Lamentable Tragedy presents an abstracted story as its emotional core, and it’s significantly harder to respond to that more distant lyrical perspective.

Even if does feature the occasional moment to crank their guitars, like in the rushing The Party’s Over, much of Snow follows a wintry path of languidly melancholic songs that reveal a curled-up optimism.

Healing is a Miracle is an entrancing album from start to finish, and will be a gratifying listen for both long-time Barwick fans and newcomers to her music alike. Barwick’s continued development as both a soloist and collaborator resonates beautifully throughout this truly healing project.