Have One On Me is so enrapturing, so imaginative and so delicate, that it feels safe to say that in five or ten years time, you’ll go back to it and discover brand new things--whether they be the meaning of a song you’d never fathomed before or a simple amuse-bouche of a beautifully constructed oboe phrase.

Keeping it abrasive and sincerely metal in execution is its strength.

As far as the songs go, there’s not a bad apple in the bunch. And some, like Lavender and its wonderful one-note melody, or No Reason to Cry and its breezy vocals, are really terrific. But oooooh, the cheese in that sound.

This one is probably the closest rival to Merriweather Post Pavilion we’ve heard this year.

Just when Devotion looks like it could be losing its way, the most incongruous track of the eleven pulls it out of the bag.

Calling Life Metal a great metal/rock/guitar album, ultimately, is a disservice: This is a sonic meditation channeled through humbuckers and hearts.

NO DREAM carries the listener comfortably through Rosenstock’s entire wheelhouse, leaving no genre unturned

With Journal for Plague Lovers, it feels like Manic Street Preachers have finally closed the door on a painful chapter in their career and, rather fittingly, they’ve done it with some aplomb.

There probably aren’t enough moments that make the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, but after the initial struggle to get into, it’s a rewarding record to return to.

Whatever shortcomings The Chemistry Of Common Life present, and there are very few, Fucked Up cancels them out with some imagination and a refusal to so easily fit into the Mallternative crowd.

Much of Patience is visceral and fierce, but it is also skillfully melodic (think of Hole's Live Through This, or even Celebrity Skin), the result of a band that approaches pop constructs with abrasive guitar sounds.

Regardless of what the future holds for Led Zeppelin, the record shows that this single concert in the O2 Arena certainly was a celebration day for all.

Both immediate and a grower, Boys and Girls in America stands tall as The Hold Steady’s masterwork – full of grace and gritty charm, full heartbreak and raw emotion.

On Hell-On, Case once again spins the roulette with a treasury of surprises, stimulating lessons that are complex, thoughtful and articulate.

One of the most frustrating releases of recent times. Tracks meander insipidly, crushed by the weight of a solipsistic “message” and the real moments of quality only serve as a reminder of what might have been.

It’s mesmerizing background music that doesn’t pass judgment if you let it take a secondary role in your daily life.

Big Thief proves that it can feed your head, your heart, and your hands in equal measure. Like the musical giants of old there is nothing they can’t do, ably going from strength to strength. Two Hands serves as the band’s call to arms.

Home Video is a more noticeably more mellow affair. Musically, it can be a little thin. Her strength as a lyricist is unwavering, even on her sparest, most nondescript ballads (Thumbs). But, as perkier indie-rock tunes like First Time and Brando prove, her careful arpeggios can also shine when she lets a little looser.

It's a moving, eclectic return that longtime fans will admire—and find themselves surprised to discover them for the first time.

Tomorrow’s Harvest, the duo’s latest, is a perfect reminder of how well these two can bring their unique aesthetic to life through music.

Slight missteps do little to deter what is some of the band's most instantly likable tracks in their career, where they turn up one rave-up rocker after the next with wide-eyed fury. Having proven themselves time and time again, they've far outpaced those unwilling to grow up with them.

St. Vincent's most sonically rich effort to date.

An intense, serious record. Call it what you want, but in the hands of Mandy, Indiana words like ‘genre’ and ‘style’ feel utterly redundant.

A fully conceived album of beautifully crafted songs, and a real treat for fans and newcomers alike.

With an immediate appeal and an evocative and nervous twitch throughout, Mating Surfaces maintains a gratifying pace, balancing energy and peculiarity throughout its 29-minute runtime. ... They manage to be playful without being poppy, succeeding in this case where a lot of modern punk rock fails.

From Old Skin to Harmonia’s Dream, I Don’t Live Here Anymore has plenty of new War on Drugs classics that will sit comfortably next to Red Eyes and Strangest Thing on a setlist.

The National's latest is easily up there with the very best indie-rock records of the year.

As it is, we have a definite return to consistency, if not form, and a Paul Simon as simultaneously hermetic and engaged as only he can be.