While there isn’t a chart-smashing Single Ladies or Baby Boy in the mix, the resulting 14 tracks (plus 17 videos) make her most complete album to date.

He [bandleader Anthony Gonzalez] masterfully weaves myriad sounds and structures--mainly late 70s- and early 80s-influenced--into a remarkably strong, cohesive unit.

The Alabama-born Houck knows his way around this music well enough to walk the fine line between respect and reverence as he delivers impassioned readings of 'Can I Sleep In Your Arms' and 'Too Sick To Pray' and kicks out a freewheeling rip through 'I Gotta Get Drunk' with the appropriate tinge of self-loathing.

Anticipation has been high for the album's official release, and Heady Fwends doesn't disappoint.

Musically, songs are altogether pleasant, ranging from languid to downright danceable, with undercurrents of the German art pop that influenced much of the 'Lab's sound.

He may not be reinventing himself with each album, but his songs are so rife with double meanings and flourishes, there's always a lot to unpack.

Lush, focused and well wrought in a way that channels the Pretty Things' S.F. Sorrow as much as Stereolab's Emperor Tomato Ketchup without seeming too reverent about its predecessors or anachronistic in its execution.

While it took a little while for the magic to finally get laid down to tape, the results are worth the wait.

Everything clicks on Let's Stay Friends, from blasts of Rocket from the Crypt bombastic rock on The Equestrian to Fugazi-sharp guitars backing Tim Harrington's feverish, controlled vocals on Patty Lee.

The surging crescendos and improv freedom give his wordy songs a refreshing dynamic that could gain the 41-year-old folk troubadour an entirely new audience.

In 1995 at the Source Awards, Andre 3000 made an iconic callout: “The South got something to say.” In under 40 minutes, Solange re-asserts the claim on a grander scale: the South has still got something to say.

Alsina’s narrative-driven niche is criminally underrepresented on the pop charts right now. Judging by the way he effectively turns his wounded past into the catalyst for a bright future--he has potential to dominate the lane.

Focused, domestic, deep in thought. It's as anti-complacent as pop music gets.

It's still epic – and a bit grandiose at times - but in a charmingly human and believable way.

This is a sparse, minimal and unassuming record that's unlikely to hit anyone over the head with its innovation, but Gonzalez accomplishes much while sounding like he's doing very little.

The record is effusive but unsentimental, pointedly funny (Love Is A Bourgeois Construct) and occasionally subversive (The Last To Die, a Springsteen cover).

There are a few hot instrumental numbers, but most of this is your favourite undergrounders (add Ladybug Mecca and Z-Trip to the list above) doing their thing over bangin' live funk beats with ace production.

Wrapped up in a tidy 10 songs is an album full of kinetic exuberance, rawness and sweat that retains just enough of a pop sensibility to keep things both memorable and erratic.

For those who never quite got John Vanderslice, he’s finally made a love-on-first-listen recording. Yes, you have to pay attention to the lyrics, but the reward is clever, well-developed storytelling.

The songs are fast-moving clouds, riffs with drift (let's call them "driffs" for now and leave it to someone else to come up with a better term), immediately catchy and contemporary but also tastefully inflected with gazey and psychedelic sensibilities.

Throughout, on both killers and filler, the singer sounds like she’s having so much fun.

American Band's force comes from its unflinching exploration of what it means to be American in 2016 and its assertion that questioning the status quo is necessary for the country to survive and thrive. Just in time for the presidential election.

There’s good understated playing throughout, strong songwriting and a casual, immediate feel that comes from recording an entire album in six days.

While there’s nothing quite as disorienting and alien as Loveless’s dramatic opening song, Only Shallow, there’s notable evolution in both the songwriting and sound, and the overall flow of the album actually seems tighter.

They've still got a way with grand, sweeping crescendos and haven't forgotten that the build is as important as the payoff.

Live From The Underground is a generous, humble statement record that should ensure K.R.I.T. won't end up another label-scooped lost boy.

More than 130 minutes long, Time Flies opens with the untouchables (Supersonic, Roll With It, Live Forever, etc.), veers into the questionable (The Hindu Times, All Around The World) and the avoidable (The Importance Of Being Idle), and ends with late-period tunes that demand reconsideration (The Shock Of The Lightning).

With its flawless song structures and instrumentation, the album flows seamlessly.

The music means the world to him, and it's wonderful.

The compelling collision of a pop sensibility with organic guitar riffs, dystopian digitalism and sharp wordplay plays out like the score to a musical set in 2012 Soweto.

There's something cataclysmic yet meditative about the album, which is just seven songs long.

The result is a kind of aggressively cute bubblegum trance that sounds like Aqua having a computer meltdown.

EX is a proper album of all-new material--composed specifically for that iconic space--and features some of the best work of his career.

Sure enough, this record brings to mind airbrushed vans flying through Day-Glo galaxies firing lasers at dragons, with no interest in any notions of good taste. Having said that, it fucking rocks.

Once you wrap your head around The Knife's strange little world, it's actually a pretty interesting place.

All the trademarks are here, filtered through frontman's Dylan Baldi's snappy power pop talents.

If "Tournament Of Hearts" lacked consistency and focus, Heights feels like a fully realized artistic statement. Welcome back, Constantines.

It’s rock ’n’ roll for 2019, though the band calls it simply pub rock. Either way, it’ll get a mosh going.

A raw masterstroke, A.L.L.A. is a depiction of underground millionaire culture that should have "think of the children" conservatives shitting their pants.

Highly listenable bangers like Tapes & Money, Garden and American Dream Part II make Trouble ideal for bouncing around your bedroom or the club.

Across Suddenly, Snaith surrenders to the current. If you do, too, you’ll find a rich and rewarding listening experience.

They have yet to capture the spontaneity of their live performances on record (leave that to recent doc The Ballad Of Shovels And Rope), but their sophomore effort certainly gets closer, even as it shows off the duo’s newfound musical breadth.

RUFF is Born Ruffians’ strongest album to date. With gritty atmospherics that closely resemble their magnetic live show, the album is less polished and slick than 2013’s Birthmarks.

All 10 are thoughtful and gentle, presented with little embellishment and zero pretense.

Hope is brought together by Pemberton's distinct vocal style and lyrics, which perfectly capture the disaffected, post-millennial, iPod-DJ, over-tweeted, quarter-life-crisis condition.

Matt's Mind Over Matter stands out by digging in a little harder tonally and rhythmically, adding some grit to all the sweetness. And it has such a classic Matt Murphy chorus and guitar licks that our nostalgic hearts go a-flutter.

Parts & Labor still do plenty of rocking out, but their tight compositions save them from overindulgence.

Wine Dark Sea is a brilliantly track-listed album, stronger as a whole than broken into parts.

Each song unfolds unhurriedly--the type of music that makes you dance into a state of cathartic calm rather than frenzy.

Their riff-heavy songs are brashly delivered – favouring attitude over technique – but it's Turner's keenly observed vignettes of bored text-messaging teens that really connect.

Pierce has called Brutalism his most honest work yet, but personal detail aside, it’s an incisive album about the prevailing mood of the moment: anxiety. The lyrics might be grim, but the music encourages us to stick it out.

It even sounds like producer Ted Hutt tried to mimic Jon Landau’s production, since singer Brian Fallon sounds like he’s singing through vintage mics. It works incredibly well, though, as Gaslight earnestly blast through 12 tracks of melodic punk.

If you've been a fan since their early days, you won't be disappointed, and if you're just discovering them, Valentina is a good introduction to the influential band.

[The songs] are confessional and vulnerable, yet so strong. Of the quiet songs, only the grungy dirge slows things to a crawl.

For long-time fans, this three-disc (or vinyl) release won’t disappoint, though it’s not a total departure.

It's tempting to hate it for failing to recapture their earlier unhinged, chaotic glory. But doing so would be to miss out on how good they've become (despite themselves).

The record’s second half loses some immediacy, partly due to the hazy nine-minute epic Slow Death, but not enough to diminish the overall power.

Arrangements are unfussy--at least by today’s standards--and Cash’s rich, familiar baritone is in fine shape.

Besides turning out impeccable vocal, guitar and banjo performances, he infuses each song with a timeless minimalism undoubtedly developed through years of propping up others.

Canada’s answer to the Fab Four, Sloan, are still charming after 23 years together.

The production is glossy and futuristic to a nearly avant-garde point, yet every song is a hit.

Ya boy is back with another dark soul-saturated album in the vein of "The Blueprint."

Cautious listeners should be warned that this is a very dark and strange album, but wrap your head around the dissonance and general creepiness and you discover one of the more startlingly original takes on 60s rhythm and blues ever put down to disc.

Its low frequencies, irregular rhythms and slow-burning dance beats creep into the songs and draw us in deeper.

As Perfume Genius, American singer/songwriter Mike Hadreas has become synonymous with dark and emotionally heavy piano dirges that are as vulnerable as they are elegant. His third album contains many such songs, but also ratchets up the drama with help from co-producer Adrian Utley of Portishead.

Like any growth spurt, Age contains the obligatory awkward phases, like the reggae-inflected Afterparty. But the Hidden Cameras have always taken risks, and this time the payoffs are much bigger.

It requires some patience, but it's worth sitting through the less immediately gratifying moments for the final section's payoff.

Like 2005’s pleasantly surprising "Playing The Angel," Sounds Of The Universe, their 12th album, is a triumph, though more cunning in its method.

The album favours a downtempo pace, and Smith’s superstar potential is apparent on close-to-final song Tomorrow. But it’s the mid-album entry The One, with its swirling string arrangements and ambiguous tension between defiant lyrics and aching delivery, that suggests Smith’s ascent is far from over.

The acoustic Clumps strips down for a particularly moving two minutes, but for the most part, Loveless commits to the stunning sonic evolution. Embrace it.

The skittering electro-jazz rhythms, classical melodic complexity and mind-bending liquid acid funk are so unique that the closest comparisons you can make are to other Aphex Twin albums.

This is much more about capturing their inimitable onstage chemistry with sizzling fuzz guitar solos, unexpected fusions of styles and the kind of relaxed confidence that only comes with this kind of history.

This is just silly fun and quite heartwarming in a goofy way – well, as long as you’re not horrified by the idea of your little miracle joyfully singing along to songs about farts.

As good as it is, it’s clear that Vernon still has room to grow. A few songs could have used a little extra instrumental kick, and while his songs are great, you can tell he has more to offer. Keep an eye on this one.

Like the best singer/songwriters, Callahan is an English major's lyricist, and by deftly blending the personal, the political and the mythological, he again leaves us plenty to pore over.

The album's middle is slow, contemplative and ambient, allowing Marshall's deep-seated melancholy to reveal itself.

A very good showcase for Jones's evolution as a writer and musician.

While New Wave will probably compel you to pay attention to singer Tom Gabel's rasping rants, it's still a record that's pretty damn fun to dance around to.

There's no whistling, but there are plenty of stick-in-your-head moments. At the end of the day, that's what we want from them.

On Overgrown, the chord progressions are more complex and the lyrics less abstracted, but it’s still the James Blake we love.

Though his unmatched guitar prowess often overshadows his other tools, Several Shades Of Why highlights his startling talent as a songwriter.

Because The Night, a Bruce Springsteen co-write whose lyrics she penned for Fred Smith before they were married, still holds special power, especially this remastered version.

She benefits from solid production by Saddle Creek staple Mike Mogis, who tweaks her retro sound with synths and electronic blips, but it's the stark M. Ward-produced tracks that, while more traditional, showcase the Dolly Parton potential in Lewis's voice.

Though the album can get somewhat repetitive, Adem's polished production and intimate songwriting minimize any flaws.

Add an ability to string lyrical and musical narratives together to create a complete whole and Bluefinger should serve as yet another highlight in an already stellar body of work.

Cave drops brilliantly funny lines throughout, and his enthusiasm for this project is palpable.

Gesundheit's tunes have an intimate lullaby quality, like a more playful Julie Doiron, and her airy voice sends them into flight. She has amazing range, inventive melodies and vivid lyrics held steady by her plucking guitar.

Her voice, while gorgeous, is not big in range--its beauty lies in its candidness and presence. She sings like she’s personally sharing intimate tales with each listener.

The band wisely retains the elements that worked the first time: intricate, jittery guitars, driving bass and creative rhythms, best displayed on the title track and Black Gold.

It never sounds gimmicky--instead, the juxtaposing of acoustic guitars and synthesizers seems completely natural.

After the band’s polished, dance-friendly 2009 effort, It’s Blitz!, Zinner’s hard-charging riffs on Area 52 are a welcome return to the urgent, sometimes messy art punk of their early days.

I Predict A Graceful Expulsion is not only immediately accessible, but also rich and nuanced enough to survive repeated listens.

Recorded in her cabin in the woods of New Hampshire, the album has a strong connection to nature and draws on themes of survival, healing and spirituality. ... Not all tracks sound like club hits, however. Deep Connections has a soft, ethereal quality created by synthy arpeggios and My Body Is Powerful samples soothing nature sounds – birdcall and distant howls – over a pentatonic scale.

While their eighth album doesn’t take any major left turns, it brims with life, ideas and energy.

On this one, there are wonky backup vocals, trashy-sounding drums, disgustingly distorted guitar solos, vaguely off-key horns. You get the sense that Lewis, also a talented comic-book maker, does whatever the hell he wants, and it totally works.

McCombs’s songwriting has become less opaque and more direct, without losing any of his signature poetry, mystery and dark humour.

The Terror crafts that chaos into a careful, impeccably sequenced compositions that should buy Coyne at least a few more years of guilt-free wackiness.

Even as the songs delve deeper into the funhouse, there’s almost always an earworm leading you out of the fog.