The album is strong but is a marked change in direction, nonetheless.

All Nerve is not in the same league as Last Splash, but it is an exhibition of a band with alarmingly strong musical chemistry making relevant music--and enjoying doing so--a quarter of a century on from their most notable landmark.

Initial listens may lead you to believe it’s a little non-descript, but there’s reward in perseverance.

As cumbersome as this album can be, its unapologetic excesses baked into its track length and Haino’s sometimes grating vocal, the zero-constraint approach at the core of this mutually beneficial creative merger is compelling.

While few tracks rise to the level of aggression promised by its introduction, Ultima II Massage contains enough wild ideas to maintain an engaging level of oddity.

Lovers of schizo-rock will have plenty to revel in.

Superchunk do come back full circle with a timeless, uniform body of work, though it also takes them back a few years after their late-career breakthroughs Majesty Shredding and I Hate Music.

Through her fictitious accounts, the band follows with a harmonious balance of dissonant transitions. Other times, their song structures are more conventional, even if they take on a few grinding solos and lush string accompaniments. It makes for a sometimes confounding if indecisive listen, but Quinlan's passionate eye for detail hasn't withered in the slightest.

The duo's closeness shows in their competent performances, and "Let's Rock" is faithful in intent and execution. But it can also come across as a cheat—it's easy to fool anyone that you've done something worthy when you undersell it.

Tall Ships are still navigating in search of their ideal destination, and their second voyage may prove to be an even more enriching one.

Adore Life, in particular, isn’t so much a maturation but a continuation for Savages.

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.

Silver Dollar Moment, is a consistently charming affair, veering on the right side of both nostalgic requiescence and syrupy saccharine sweet.

While Living on the Other Side isn’t a particular complex record, I do think it’s one that requires a couple of listens to fully appreciate.

With such a wide-ranging collection of retro sounds blended into one record, the fact that the album’s near 45-minute runtime avoids any real stale moments is another triumph from Uchis.

So in spite of the complacency of the later tracks, there are enough stellar moments here to make it worth keeping an eye out for I Break Horses.

The result is not a loss of the uncompromising minimalism or dry wit, but a more dense brand of the edgy, psychedelic punk only noticeable in its absence from the duo’s previous work as The Lovely Eggs when listened to alongside This Is Eggland.

It’s an album full of aggressive piano, golden rock and roll and warbled, disturbed lyrics.

If you like the singles, you won’t be disappointed by The Magic Numbers, but you won’t be astounded either.

As a title, Wonder Where We Land couldn’t be more appropriate. The answer is somewhere safe, both viable and habitable, but lacking in exhilaration and wonder.

The album is extremely easy to listen to--so much so that it can veer slightly into monotonous territory--but it’s a soundscape that is impossible to dislike.

NonStopErotik lives and dies on your particular hunger for music like this in 2010. If you love what Francis has done over the span of his solo work, (and to a lesser extent, if you love the Pixies) you’ll find just enough in the album to merit a listen or two. If you only have a passing interest, it’s probably not worth your 45 minutes.

The mixtape-like sequencing of Saturn occasionally minimizes her ability to write hit after hit--there's hardly a dud here--even if she just misses the mark at producing a more involving mood piece.

The album isn’t without its faults--its probably too long, and though the production may differ from other albums, it blurs together somewhat over the course of the album. However, there’s one song on this album that renders all such complaints irrelevant--the title track. None Shall Pass is undoubtedly one of the best things Aesop has ever done

They're always willing to invest on either side of the coin, driven to earn their place inside the majestic hall.

On Ghost Stories, despite a near derailment, they "fly on," moving in fresh directions while keep the catharsis that gave them their audience in the first place.

It’s beautiful background music at worst but much more if it is given the attention it deserves.

The Louder I Call... is another step forward for Wye Oak, a duo who still carry plenty of vision to inject some life into a form of indie rock that you don't hear that often anymore.

Like Califone as a band, Singers is never boring but rarely excellent. It’s just entirely decent.

Fall into the Sun embraces a sparkling, melodic mid-tempo sound that is strung together with careful consideration. It's uniformly straightforward, sometimes to a fault, but the trio's learned experiences elevate these songs from fading into the background.

For music that's this visceral, every heart-rending confession can feel like a victory lap—but even the best runners have to take a breather to renew their energy.

As with any album that features epic, largely instrumental tracks, pacing is paramount, and Sleepy Sun does an excellent job breaking up the Goliath tracks with hit-and-runs like Red/Black and with some lovely acoustic numbers.

Perhaps their impatience gets the best of them, especially in key moments when there's a build up and the momentum suddenly stops without a satisfying conclusion. That aside, An Horse carry on their full-bodied sound with a knack that is much to be desired.

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

While it's hard to say whether or not Our House on the Hill is truly a great album, it's clear that with this record, The Babies have defiantly surpassed the less-than-lukewarm expectations geared towards them to create a pop record ripe with personality and flavor.

If Any Day has that low-stakes feel, their flow just as effortless, it's because they're still keen to deliver a sort of refined muzak on steroids that never ages.

Be it through incremental shifts and changes or grinding genres together to hear what comes out, Wye Oak know their influences in and out and work skillfully to blend them or highlight their differences as the song calls for it.

For many reasons it is confused, self-absorbed, remarkably gauche. It is so often an intentionally uncomfortable thing to listen to... [yet] intriguing.

She’s emerged from the thickets of Laurel Hell more assured than ever before.

Cooler Returns plays out best if you go with its flow. Musical flourishes, references, and inspirations abound, but if you let yourself get lost in it, there is a lot to enjoy and not too much to worry about.

Conley's diaristic accounts are clumsily direct at times, but in doing so, we also gain insight into his spiritual awakening.

The only problem (and I don't even know if its a problem) is that every track registers as an epic of some sort, so much so that the album itself registers as a pleasurable, cathartic blur rather than a cohesive statement itself.

What I find so satisfying with this album, is how Four Tet envisions the lushness of a song, and sonically creates a buoyant, lighthearted blend--a complete album for the lively and lighthearted.

OFF! is packed with fun little references that make its place out of time all the more fun, and when the band can write head-thrashing, body-moshing rockers with gut-wrenching images, it's all the more reason to take a quarter hour out of your day to vent.

While Trees might've been taken as a softening of Moore's abrasive tone, Demolished Thoughts could be viewed as somewhat of a progression, a MORE acoustic venture laden with violin strings and all the passion Moore's voice can conjure.

Let's Wrestle has developed a studied, wide-ranging brute that embraces their oddball wit to a greater degree.

Ffollowers of the band will notice how they sometimes hold onto their older tendencies (see: Microscopie, the title track). Nevertheless, the strides they take show how they're an asset to their new label—and not the other way around.

Twelve Reasons to Die doesn't quite carry the hefty weight of earlier works, but when those rank among the pinnacle of the genre, it’s not to be expected.

By stripping everything back, it often ends up just being a distillation of their sound. The songs are familiar but frustratingly lack any colour or character.

It’s a dense, difficult listen, nigh impossible to compare to the rest of Kanye West’s work, and its rewards come slowly.

While Individ is marked with the frantic momentum of an inspired studio creation, it ultimately suffers under the weight of its boldness and reckless abandon.

Centralia finds Mountains in their finest form yet, indicating a new level of comfort in the space they've been carefully carving out over the past decade.

Most of the time it's a joy to listen to.

When he does adapt a more modern trap-orientated sound on the final two tracks it doesn’t really work, and this brings down the EP as an entire listen. Crown thrives when he stays close to his classic sound and the flourishes he adds, which today's stripped and skeletal approach to beatmaking actively avoid.

Despite his grander statements falling flat and a mid album slump, Trick sees Jamie T at his absolute best.

These tracks are not enough to justify the second disc as anything more than marketing filler, so again, unless you've purchased the biggest, baddest, bank-breaking box set (complete with a replica of The Fly sunglasses), it would be smart to stick to the single-disc version.

They may be pared down to 5 members now, but they still generate a big band noise. Whether this is down to overdubbing or clever use of atmospherics is anyone's guess, but the results are convincing.

For all [the album's] obvious flaws, none of it seems to matter. When you hear that guitar soar, those rhythms pulse, and that voice cry out, you want to keep listening, for all 47 minutes. And when they're over, you want to do it again.

Those expecting a more swaggering form of vintage soul will find themselves awfully disenchanted. But for the most part, it still holds together as a serene meditation that vacillates with a refined grace and beauty.

Heavy Lifter tried to take some new directions and added more heft to their songs, but not in the organic approach that True Love embraces. Like joy and true love itself, Hovvdy sounds best here when they use a broader palette without getting too far outside the lines—bringing more to bear and letting in quite a bit more light.

It's the type of song the Foo Fighters wrote knowing their nineties fans would relish. Still, this is as far removed from the Alternative Nation as you can get.

Delicate and lovely new project, one that chronicles a relationship blooming and decaying in equal time.

It works because you can tell how much Pharaohs love house music, how much they seem to wish they’d been there back when it was taking off in the mid-80s.

Certainly, it feels as though Takk emerges from a group who, despite arriving at the zenith of their capability, has, at least for the time being, run out of things to say.

The material is strong but rarely achieves greatness.

If you're looking for a catchy voice amidst the sea of bedroom outfits, Cloud Nothings is a strong contender for someone to continually keep an ear open for.

It's far-reaching in scope but it's also conceptually uniform, a beautiful mess of an album from a band who is inching their way towards the imperial phase of their career.

The Waterfall lived up to its lofty ambitions, as the band navigated an enchanting patchwork of enchanting orchestral folk and winding prog rock. And that's just scratching the surface—by comparison, The Waterfall II is a little looser and rough around the edges. It's also a more overt attempt at sending a loving homage to their favorite pop songwriter.

Clock Opera have delivered a debut which, just about, delivers.

At its best, Laughter In Summer is deeply affecting and genuinely beautiful. At its least compelling (“Children’s Anthem,” “Harbour”), it remains enjoyably wholesome, but falls well short of his finest work, where Glenn-Copeland’s simple lyrical sentiments were adorned with more engaging layers and textures. Still, it feels unreasonable to grumble.

With a combination of new and old faces, the new iteration of Art Brut is rhythmically tighter and more robust, less ramshackle, as Argos embraces middle-aged malaise with his charmingly lyrical bluster.

With Frankie Rose and The Outs, her first self-accredited rock music excursion, Rose predictably weaves femininity and cherubic harmonics with garage rock, resulting in a pretty, albeit somewhat tired, retreading of familiar waters.

Nothing here really rivals For "Emma" but this is a lovely and worthy EP.

Sea Of Cowards sounds like the record Jack White’s been trying to make for a long time. Whatever he does next will probably sound that way, too.

It's also as if Gainsborough is processing his overwhelming emotions in real life, and though his erratic compositions are sometimes too slapdash to bear, his refusal to ever settle is commendable.

It's a good album, revelatory in that Liars can carry their sound into different realms of possibility, a translation carried out by different instruments.

A very good album and only a very good album. Don’t expect it to linger like Jay Som’s last, but do expect it to keep you company as these waning days of summer transform into fall.

Eat Skull’s impressive new album is a healthy reminder of what can happen when these two opposing halves converge into one beautiful whole.

There are some missteps on this album, but the last line on the record, which comes at the end of the seven-minute closer, is a perfect sign-off: “This shouldn’t hurt, but you might feel a slight discomfort”--an ominous warning and a promise of a new awakening.

Throughout these 11 songs, there’s a conflict between whether the characters are ready to move on or are fighting to go back to how it was.

The Hold Steady this ain't, but as far as new directions go, Craig Finn could have done much worse.

Still, true to their L.A. roots, they can't quite abandon the love-stricken cliches taken from their eighties influences, from revisionist West Hollywood glam (Heartbeat Away) and Bomp! records-inspired rock (Rebound City, which sounds like a homage to 20/20's Beat City) to tight, driving rhythms (Real Life).

Though [the songs on Transcendental Youth] may not reach the highs of past songs like Damn These Vampires from last year's All Eternals Deck or Family Happiness from The Coroner's Gambit, there is still plenty here for fans of The Mountain Goats to sink their teeth into.

This EP is not a singles-ready collection, nor should it be. Instead, the atmospheric songs do their part to transport the listener to another mood or mindset.

What is required to create a record which is grown from the compost of the past and still remain original is something close; perhaps not quite; not entirely; but nearly, genius.

Overall, its their most accessible, one whose highs are much more pronounced than its lows.

As it stands, Sunlight Echoes is a solid entry in the shoegaze canon, but its innate politeness prevents it from truly standing out in a packed field.

Glossily produced, the new album is much less thorny than Marshall’s earlier works, showcasing the artist’s songwriting and soul singing talents.

The diminished presence of Michael (he does contribute here, but is more of a background figure) leads to a slight loss of variety, but it's hardly a deal-breaker. If you like The Lemon Twigs you will find plenty to enjoy here.

I am left with the impression that Corona's vision far exceeded his brief, producing a collection of serious abstract mood pieces that conjure up dark visions of Paris. Whether this is a release long-standing Murcof fans will cherish and return to however, is rather another question.

Though the album's theme is fairly inconsequential, more appealing as a one-off project for diehards, their prog-folk experiment breathes new life into a band that had seemingly lost their way.

Kveikur is a strong album, one with no low-lights and an intriguing progression of sound.

Stewart has enlisted the services of several vocalists of an R&B ilk to add a more radio-friendly feel as well as structural steel to the otherwise frantic procession of convulsive electronics, but this is a dizzying listen that is ultimately erratic, but enjoyable.

The whole thing mostly works, though, thanks to the generous application of a Blue Album power-pop filter. I Need Some of That channels The Cars (like much of Weezer’s finest work) and is the clear standout here, but there’s plenty more to raise a smile.

While Hitch may kick off poorly, it more than makes up for it by back-ending the tracklist with some of the band's best work.

While The Camel’s Back demonstrates a clear progression in Psapp’s worth as songwriters and musicians, it becomes easy to ignore what they accomplish creatively as the ears only pick up on its “cuteness” factor.

Stapleton’s writing is solid, but his vocals, arrangements, and instrumentation imbue most of these songs with something remarkable.

An LP with a long gestation period but a short attention span that revels in 1960s pop music and is as fun as it is jangling.