King is worth a listen, but only to prepare yourself for their next visit to a neighborhood near you.

The Rip Tide lacks an extension into flair, even though their music is already considered exotic by the instrumentation alone, the creative panache is missing.

Vile may get all the end-of-year glory, but his comrade's first full-length effort is just as laudable and commendable.

This is hip-hop that doesn't attack; it drifts. Black Up is full of ghostly howls and weird barely-there percussion, devoid of anything like a single.

Krug is a songwriter whose craft is best when met with the editing of other musicians--left to himself, however, we are left with a very forgettable retreat into his very OMD-obsessed psyche.

This album is an abomination. It's a rancid pile of regurgitated tripe.

Future Self sounds like a developing band, but one that's developing in some incredible directions. None of it is glaringly new, but they sound quietly innovative, developing their own unique take on indie rock.

What's Going On is not only a remarkable album, but an opportunity to discover a seminal artist at the peak of his powers; an insight into a true modern genius of pop music.

Sky Full of Holes, the band's fifth release, doesn't stray from their foundation of fitting rhymed schemes amidst archetypical power pop chords.

Sounding grandiose and understated simultaneously is not an easy feat, but it's one that Cat's Eyes manages to do almost relentlessly.

Woods should take the cue from Bill Callahan and what he accomplished with Smog: if you are going to delve into the restricting realm of lo-fi, there has to be emotional and appealing substance and quality in the songs themselves. Lowering the production quality does not, as in a double helix, imply that the songwriting quality will improve.

Placing aside what amounts to unfortunate filler (the friends portions aren't as evocative), Family & Friends portrays the inevitability of growing up and keeping up with outside expectations with a deft touch.

Robinson certainly bolsters There Is A Way's meaty riffs and hooks; those guitars sound a bit more Kerrang than NME on this second album. The band's songwriting too is more restrained and conventional, but always high octane – they scream overwhelmingly through the whole album without really letting you pause for breath.

It's still considered the band's last album as an underground presence, so it holds importance as something monumental in the band's development. As an album, Lifes Rich Pageant is enjoyable and clean.

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

When Fish Ride Bicycles is like any high school parking lot. There are cool kids, newcomers, wallflowers and seniors that should have graduated last year but decided to stick around because it's still fun and easy.

You may not love it, but you'll probably like it, and that's enough.

It's a solid, summery album that more than delivers on the tunes, and the LOLs, and you can't really ask for more than that.

Sometimes the beats will have an extra kick to them, or the song structures will change up, but the keyboard tone is the same throughout the record. It walks a very fine line between intriguing and boring, and frequently drifts between the two.

Parts of Two-Way Mirror give me hope for the future, but their seeming inability to hammer out a concrete songwriting method makes me doubt they'll figure it out anytime soon.

Clutching Stems doesn't hit the highs some of the band's albums have, but it features some added-in coherency that quite helps the album along.

Where this album should be fresh and current, it sounds tired, repetitive and uninspired.

Even though I'm not praising the comeback album in a Grammy winning category, I think many are simply pleased with the fact that Blake Sennett put down the scuba gear and got back in the game where he belongs. Welcome back, buddy.

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 album then is in no way spectacular or ostentatious, but partly because of this there are almost no moments at which it falls flat; and if anything marks out an LP as being not just good, but very good, as well as stepping it away from being a mere collection of songs, it's an excellently crafted and cohesive consistency.

With Skying, The Horrors continue to explore familiar territory whilst refining their idiosyncratic slant like proficient tastemakers.

Although there's nothing spectacular or innovative here, it has to be difficult to simultaneously have a foot in a variety of styles while constructing something that's this easy to listen to.

The lone connective thread found in Gardens & Villa is that of its dedication to build a vigorous gamut of synths. As it turns out, once that defining element is out of the mold, you're left with skeletal compositional biases that amount to very little.

It sounds at once old-fashioned and contemporary, undemanding but clever – a joy.

After half a decade away, If Not Now, When? really does feel like a misstep. Hopefully a little creative control can be wrestled away from Boyd in the future, otherwise a much under-rated band really could be lost forever.

Loud Planes Fly Low has heart and soul to it, both very familiar with wells of confusion and despair; unfortunately, it's not the first heart and soul to chart these depths.

There's no debating in my mind that Digitalism have the potential to produce an album even better than Idealism. But sadly, I Love You, Dude is not it.

It's a record that's quite open to cynicism--Exmilitary is easy to dismiss as excessive and carelessly noisy. It's going to polarise listeners, but it's useless to criticise it for being so angry and unlistenable because that's Death Grips' prerogative.

There are some nice elements here: the vocals and vocal harmonies are reasonably solid, but they're trapped underneath layers of, well, noise.

Mirror Mirror may be easier to admire, or more likely be creeped out by, than to love, but it marks an interesting turning point for Sons and Daughters, suggesting either that they've come to terms with the fact that they'll never be particularly successful and so are now happy to push themselves into darker territory, or that they're struggling and this may be their last gasp.

My own axes aside this is a fun and highly commendable record; well produced and with some excellent pop songs in tandem with enough stratagem to be considered a real credit to the band: scattered hints of genius, however, are not the same as the real thing.

It's not one of the year's best records, but it's churned out a couple of its best songs. At the very least, they've managed to create an atmosphere that's intriguing as it is entertaining.

While not on par with essential solo Pollard fare like Not in My Airforce, Waved Out or From a Compound Eye this cohesive, flowing work motors by and, as always, his stirring songs reveal themselves and their riches through repeated listens.

It's easy to see how the impact of this sort of music might be lost on record, but White Hills put their studio to great use here, proving they can sound both impressively cohesive and totally baked.

Like wheedling out the spare remnants of a bygone era, UMO stands as a rather unique endeavor that packs plentiful guitar riffs and sample-based techniques befitting of the funk tag.

Despite the promising influences and the strong pedigree, essentially all that Blanck Mass offers is a distorted, unusual take on new age music, and while interesting in small doses, it makes for a long, repetitive slog over the course of an hour.

The problem with this album is that it brings very little new to the table, for fans and non-fans alike. By far the strongest track on the album is the aforementioned Ross Ross Ross which, as stated above, was released five years ago now (and, in any case, the EP version is stronger than the album version).

Alpocalypse is a fine reflection on our world as it stands in this modern age, and well worth a listen, if only for a laugh to brighten up your day.

Despite the moments where you feel like you're having a bad trip, there's a deranged brilliance on Castlemania that's difficult to ignore.

This ambiguity is precisely what makes New Brigade so exciting--there's no dogged political agenda, nor a desire to sound wiser than their 17 to 19-age range. And even if it sounds like a slush of trebly clatter, Iceage manage to pack a wallop of melodic transitions in each measure.

In Light is commendable for exploring the successful niche Givers have been residing within since their 2009 Givers EP.

Lupercalia, despite its flaws, does provide a satisfying sense of closure. Now, hopefully, Patrick Wolf will be able to graduate onto subjects other than himself (and an attempt to do a full-on disco record would not go amiss either).

Few albums are truly perfect though, and Bon Iver is not without its flaw.

The album does have one redeeming aspect preventing its plunge into epic echelons of suck, and that's lead single Party Rock Anthem.

Even with a diversity deficiency here, you have to admit that this is album is noteworthy. My suggestion is to gather up his entire catalog and put it on a random shuffle so you don't suffer from the monotony.

I believe It's A Corporate World will please its devote followers. I suppose it's not terrible to hear an album soaked in happiness with all the sorrow and melancholy that already exists.

The way they attempt to reinvent the idea of the rock band is admirable but quixotic; they;'re intriguing but way overhyped. The album is buried in just a bit too much sonic obscurity--their arrangements are at first elating, but eventually frustrating.

Marissa Nadler does continue Nadler's impressive track record, and showcases her at her most confident.

Ukulele Songs can aptly be summed up as Vedder's pensive doppelganger which has been peeking out sporadically over the past decade or so, with none of his Pearl Jam-rage presenting itself here.

I Love You, Go Easy is an uneven album, not just going from song to song, but within the songs themselves. It offers a variety of moments, some brilliant and entrancing, but not without a few distracting decisions.

It's black metal for prog fans or math rockers, Liturgy's attention to arrangement and speed the sort of maddeningly precise output nerds like that eat up.

Four albums into their career and Dengue Fever show no signs of running short of ideas. They continue to blend an expanding catalogue of global influences with intuitive ease, into music that's fun and entertaining but also has a heart.

They haven't changed their sound much, but more of the same is hardly a problem when it's this enjoyable.

Absolute II doesn't reveal anything on repeated listens, in spite of the densely woven textures. While it's another prime example of Oneida defying expectations and challenging themselves as artists, it's perhaps a step too far. It's a blip in an otherwise solid discography.

When it's all said and done, Tesfaye has presided over a mind bending, drug induced tour through an underground world of debauchery that only leaves him hollow. He commands the mood better than artists who have been in the game for years and yet this his first release.

While no commercial crossover will be gained from Eye Contact, Gang Gang Dance have released one of the most captivating albums of the year, each song different yet cohesive, challenging and ultimately highly rewarding.

If the past had him outcast and an outsider, Leisure Seizure could be ideally marketed with those label heavyweights like a fabric hook-and-loop fastener.

This is perhaps his most beautiful work to date; its vulgarity is restrained but a sense of humour remains, and Wells and Moffat reach new emotional heights.

Born This Way sufficient for Gaga to retain her crown? Probably, but only just. It lacks the overall quality of Robyn's Body Talk or the stand-out singles of Rihanna's Loud, yet it's still packed with hooks, killer choruses and unexpected twists.

It's clear that Strange Negotiations is not a wholly secular piece, but Bazan is clearly moving in that direction.

What is clear is that the Arctic Monkeys of 2011 have produced, probably by a significant margin, the best British Rock 'n' Roll album you will hear this year, and on top of that there's the comforting sense that Suck It And See will only age well.

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

Since Nodzzz songs rely mostly on sporadic ruminations, they communicate much more effectively when a satisfying guitar riff surprises as opposed to when they build an entire song on little life tidbits that don't amount to much.

Circuital makes it clear that we are dealing with My Morning Jacket post-metamorphosis. From a provocative indie/country/blues band with exceptional vocals, witty lyrics, and a stellar band, MMJ has found prime real estate on the premise of becoming a commercial parody of themselves.

Despite a fairly catastrophic mid-album dip in quality, there are enough of the big soaring numbers, and a smattering of new ideas to see him through. So it's just like most other Moby albums really.

So the bottom line is this album turns out to be about half good, is probably not going to mean much to people who don't remember them, and while it hits all the right notes in places, it doesn't quite deliver any moments of pure pop perfection the way they used to.

Perhaps the most significant thing that Director's Cut offers is context. Not just the context of an album – which it is being touted as, rather than a mere compilation – but the context of era, in how technological limitations of the time affect a composer's original intentions.

If ambition of design were to take precedence over tangible results, Laced would be a great album. It is an elaborate attempt at uniting heavy-handed artistic endeavours through exotic instrumentation and experimental sounds, with a lo-fi crass, lifelike production, giving it the feel of a bold art exhibit found lying on the sidewalk of a dirty street infested with lowly people, as opposed to a quaint art gallery.

There's an amazing balance on Feel It Break. You should have everything you need, if your needs are met by a beautiful blend of virulent lyrics, pumping beats, with addictive dark melodies.

Of course the question arises: is Rome the greatest thing 2011 will offer? Hardly. Nevertheless, I'll vouch to name it the most ambitious album of the year.

Despite the occasional flashes of brilliance, Codes and Keys often feels like a half assed attempt at innovation.

Attention Please makes them into something more profound: an often puzzling albeit enthralling and super-malleable "fuck you" to the safety of classification.

Heavy Rocks 2011 is a full-on guitar rock album that utilizes the glam-ish, arena level riffs and sounds the band splattered across all three volumes of their Japanese Heavy Rock Hits 7" series.

With it's at times blissfully understated cool Mirrorwriting confirms Woon as a man capable of a making truly remarkable music, the sort of music that makes it clear what a miraculous triviality it is to turn on a record and let it spin.

Owl City is electro-pop's unwanted bastard child, combining all the worst elements of the genre. The production is lazy and unbelievably dull.

Scrape back the artistic pretensions and what's left may be one of 2011's most purely enjoyable, and boldest, records.

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.

Street of The Love of Days is intimate and serene, sometimes pastoral, but there's nothing here that would make you miss the city, unless you hate bonfires and the crisp rustle of autumn leaves.

If more is to come, it should bring with it a great deal of anticipation - Colour Trip has a great deal of promise about it, and that, it seems, is hard to miss, even through all the noise.

It's just such a boringly average release that the band seems to have retrogressed into one of the millions of anonymous and pretentious electro-drone bands that exist nowadays.

Since the lyrical content now borders on morose and even sadistic, the music also follows the leader with a muck of baseless solos and thrilling codas to compensate for the otherwise linear compositions.

Apparently The Wombats only managed to write the one song for the album and so have decided to just repeat it ten times, offering little-to-no variation in tone or tempo--although to be fair to them, they do stick a different synth preset on for each song so you can tell them apart.

Pala is music for the here and the now, with a hedonistic samba swing and a cheeky smile – don't start worrying about tomorrow – after all, it's still a day away.

Over the course of this slightly bloated track listing there is too much focus on the soft rock element of her sound and this which works to the detriment of her fascinating lyrics and bewitching theatrics.

This album has failings and successes; it all adds up to a highly commendable record, there's no doubt in that.

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.

Despite the often dull music, the album is an overall cohesive success. It all ties together well, and it owes its quality to the unwavering confidence of her delivery, both musically and lyrically.

Almost without exception it seems this album delivers good but never great: and, when you put it like that, its clear that good is not good enough.

Overall, I can honestly say that I enjoyed Little Scream and I'm interested to see what she'll do next.

The primary question that you are left asking is why it's taken a man with so much talent so long to release his solo debut? Fortunately there is enough worth and intrigue within this record to keep you occupied until the next one, if there is one.

Talahomi Way is so strongly rooted in a sense of location that it makes little sense in transit on a pair of headphones, where its fine detail is compressed and channelled directly into your ears, and the images painted by the lyrics are forced to compete with your own changing scenery. Music like this needs to inhabit a space, preferably a sunny one.

Even if you've learned to appreciate the methodology of music, or lack there of, there are moments when too much misdirection can make you feel lost instead of dazzled. Nonetheless, this quintet from Leeds deserves at least one very enthusiastic thumb up for this compilation.

This only falls flat when you want more - and that aside, Belong really is a good album.