The album teeters on adult contemporary but never lets go of Maxwell's characteristic playful glint. Anyone remotely interested in his sound should pick this up.

For those seduced by that album's gorgeous dream pop, Passive Aggressive serves as a comprehensive refresher course in the Swedish band's satisfying back catalogue.

Tense, electronic, impeccably crafted and, yes, a little bit too long (classic 90s alt-rock), it’s a satisfying twist on the band’s legacy that doesn’t abandon its signature sound.

The closer, We Are Circling (featuring Buffy Sainte-Marie), acts as a coda, binding the whole concept together, underlining the sacredness of family, community, music-making and the passage of time.

What a joyously juddering load of comical clatter it is.

The band’s sophomore effort is solid throughout, offering a heady mix of shimmering guitars, arty lyrics and creative rhythms that build on the work of romantic NYC indie bands like the National, the Walkmen and French Kicks.

But it’s when she cuts loose from the serene guitar-voice template also favoured by her like-minded collaborator Bahamas (whose Afie Jurvanen is credited as “senior advisor” here) that the album really shines. Lush strings (arranged by Lindeman) bring a new richness to the songwriting, while upbeat tracks like Kept It All To Myself and Complicit showcase more playful vocal turns (the latter closing with a choir of layered vocals) and dense, twangy melodies.

As a songwriter, singer, guitarist and bandleader, he’s self-assured, masterful and working from his own plain.

Spencer Krug is blessed with an extremely creative mind, and in this album he unleashes it full-throttle. While it's less accessible than his work with Wolf Parade, this disc may still manage to overshadow his more famous band's efforts.

A new urgency and immediacy provide welcome counterpoint to the reserved Canadian introspection that still characterizes their songs.

With Uncle, Duke & The Chief, they confidently step into calmer, more spacious sonic terrain and lean on classic pop songwriting. The nine songs still take plenty of left-field Ruffian tangents, but they come in brief, controlled bursts that add personality and colour.

Yet another must-have for Animal Collective fans.

For every indulgent art-rock breakdown, there’s a simple pop ditty to balance it.

In Our Bedroom After The War is better than expected even as it wallows in its own broken heart.

All in all, a unique and satisfying effort.

Working closely with guitarist and co-producer Joe Pisapia, who co-wrote most of the album, lang has created a mature record that avoids being boring or staid.

He projects a charismatic mix of youthful playfulness, cheeky confidence and naked vulnerability that would seem wasted on fun dance pop except that he does it so perfectly.

The songs are all totally enjoyable, even the schmaltzier ones like Loving You, inspiring toe-tapping and appreciation for Jackson’s phenomenal vocals.

At worst the album gets a bit too cutesy (lead single Frankie Sinatra), but its unrelentingly cheery harmonies and melodies are so effervescent that it practically makes the air sparkle.

The Seer will definitely raise the band's profile, although its sheer intensity and ugliness may scare people away.

If Stripes fans want to give Dead Weather another chance, this one deserves space in the record collection.

On Operator, MSTRKRFT seem uninterested in fitting in with current mainstream EDM trends, and that gives them the freedom to come up with something that still has just enough in common with their past to satisfy long-time fans.

Lang gently pulls you into the quieter moments of domesticity on songs like 'Coming Home' and 'Sunday,' but her curled-lip drawl on Jealous Dog shows she can still surprise.

There are no big hooks, no clear single. Just a boozy-and-woozy late-night vibe that’s pretty damn satisfying.

These songs, short and sparsely arranged, are more fragile. Crutchfield’s hardly beautiful, unadorned singing helps this idea along, and the ways she uses her voice introduce a complicating factor: confidence.

Sure, the production on Soldier Of Love sounds a bit tougher and chunkier than the band’s early work, but the classic Sade vibe we love is still front and centre.

The combo of ethereal prog rock and lead singer Guy Garvey’s hushed, careworn words couldn’t be finer than on mournful, horn-laden 'Weather To Fly,' while sing-along stadium-ready cliche 'One Day Like This' is the only discernible reminder of why I avoided them in the first place.

The title track and opener has a huge sound, but it’s the simple yet infectious guitar riff that keeps it together.

The other brilliant move was producer Martin Terefe’s idea of going to Havana to dub on a Cuban brass section trying to fake Memphis Horns-style head riffs. They never get it quite right, but what they come up with works perfectly as a brightening counterbalance for Sexsmith’s darker inclinations.

A geekier and nerdier Rush? Yes, which is actually a very good thing.

Burial and the late DJ Rashad’s contributions are predictably strong, and Jessy Lanza’s two appearances stand out for successfully combining traditional songcraft with forward-thinking sonic exploration.

It's indie rock that actually rocks. From Brooklyn no less.

If Kill For Love doesn't make you a Chromatics believer, nothing will.

That the songs retain their vibrancy and ambition with this new energy – more focused, less stridently theatrical – is a testament to her songwriting and enduring appeal.

Titanic Rising is a leap forward for the self-described “nostalgic futurist,” yet Mering’s core musical gifts remain intact. Her voice holds you like a steady flashlight beam in a meadow fog.

It's the strength of his conventional songcraft, however, that makes his late-career foray into the frontman role successful.

IV Play is a collection of sexy jams that falls somewhere between Usher-type bedroom music and the progressive R&B The-Dream’s great at.

Fuzz do one thing--creepy, heavy fuzz rock--but do it really well.

The lineup addition of [singer Dawn] McCarthy proves to be a genius move; her vocals blend beautifully with Oldham's, and her soaring solo flights make a great recording exceptional.

They seamlessly move from straight-up hardcore or punk to more traditional rock all over this record, and there's no shortage of fist-pumping anthems.

Occasionally, it feels like she's trying a little too hard to reach American ears, but she balances the conservative neo-soul vibes with just enough hard left turns to keep listeners on their toes.

Despite any bugaboos, he's a plain great songwriter, and Skelliconnection is firmly above average.

This sounds more like an album and less like a collection of singles and ideas, and the pop and funk elements are a bit more refined than before.

This career-spanning retrospective helps put Fucked Up’s unlikely critical-darling status in perspective, and serves as a handy catch-up tool for those who’ve come to the party late.

Pluto nicely refreshes current rap trends and offers some genuinely forward-thinking hooks.

Thematically he might travel into dark and desperate places, but the idea that one can find salvation in music is made vividly real by the rush of energy that is Atrocity Exhibition.

Sometimes the vocals are uncomfortable (that goes away after a couple of listens), and sometimes, like on Caribou or Rabbit, they're crystal clear and beautiful. The instrumentation is just as amorphous.

Lyrically Ditto is in top form, striking a sage tone to dish out relationship advice (I Wrote The Book), console a friend (Do You Need Someone) and reprimand an ex-lover (Open Heart Surgery).

There's much at play here--personalities, loud/soft dynamics, noise vs melody--and Williams and Baldi strike just the right balance.

Akron/Family do joy justice. You could focus on the psychedelic country folk experimentation and the odd song structures, but what you really take away from this album is pure childlike joy, even during the darker minor-key moments.

On first listen, the album as a whole seems repetitious--there aren't any 12-minute odysseys like on breakout album Person Pitch--but its diversity reveals itself with multiple listens.

This album, like everything else Legend has done, showcases his skill as an artist, but it lacks the passion that would help him reach the Stevie Wonder status he strives for.

Pop hooks aside, Images Du Futur is not a feel-good record. But if you can deal with some dark, creepy, bummer vibes, it reveals new layers with each listen.

[Drummer Mimi Parker's] songs, like the uncharacteristically jaunty, slowly swelling Just Make It Stop, are the highlights.

Riveting, memorable, substantial stuff that’ll make you sit up and listen, and possibly wear you out by the 11th song.

Foxwarren doesn’t feel like Andy Shauf and his backing band; it feels like a creative, cohesive group.

There are shades of classic 50s-style crooning in Cox's vocals, but his voice has a sublime spectral quality that adds a lingering disquiet.

These details--textures, feelings and moods translated into sonic imprints--elevate the work to a cohesive and impressive debut. It’s proof that taking time, both in creation and in listening and metabolizing an album, is more valuable than ever.

The Ecstatic begins with the Middle Eastern/rock-music-influenced Supermagic and doesn't let up on the sound clashes until the very end. Production by Madlib, Oh No, J Dilla, and Mr. Flash (yes, the Ed Banger Records Mr. Flash) keeps The Ecstatic's instrumental canvas as multi-textured and eclectic as they come.

It’s been a while since Fiery Furnaces released an album with songs that stick in your head. I’m Going Away, the Brooklyn band’s eighth release, is full of them.

Despite all the gifted-beyond-his-years hype, that over-arching concerns still feel inextricably teenaged, albeit precociously so.

Happy New Year is unpretentiously unique, challenging and eclectic.

Kid Koala might be known for his light-hearted approach, but nothing here feels inappropriately kooky.

It's a record full of straight-up good songs from a band that should be (and would be, except for Doherty's fuckery) much more important than it is.

An album for piano and string quartet, this follow-up to the superb Solo Piano II is another soothing listen, and fine orchestration by Hamburg's Kaiser Quartett adds greater harmonic complexity to Gonzales's songbook.

Although there's cosmic energy in the music's upward trajectory, it comes from a decidedly earthbound live-off-the-floor approach rather than meticulously sculpted production.

It’s a beautifully crafted album that heralds the arrival of what’s sure to be one of the most subtly affecting voices in pop.

As a feel-good summer dance mix, Sidetracked is fun and doesn’t rely on obvious monster hits to keep the momentum.

Amidst the crushing avant-metal, we also get nods to classic rock, elegant instrumental work, searing lyrics and atmospheric keyboards.

This back and forth continues throughout the album and makes for a satisfying mix of clarity and perplexity. In the indie rock game, Grizzly Bear’s expansive scope is unmatched.

While Adventures In Your Own Backyard can't be described as instantly catchy, its songs wend their way into your memory as if you've always known them.

His sixth album proves that his ability to make grown-up hits is stronger than ever.

Hero Brother is a beautiful collection of experimental instrumental songs.

Make no mistake--that Jersey (GA's home state) vibe still lurks in the corners. It's just that his writing style is more distinctive here. It's also the sound of a band pushing itself while capitalizing on its strengths.

It's early morning or late-night music, and more than capturing a specific place and aimless time, A New Place 2 Drown is a soundtrack for a slowed-down pace of life.

Working again with pop Svengali Richard Gottehrer and the Raveonettes’ Sune Rose Wagner, DDG find a nice middle ground between their signature detachment and a classic pop sensibility.

His latest disc could be his best yet.

Yes, the melodies are all bubble-gum lightness, but don’t worry, Raveonettes are still very dark and won’t be making inroads into top-40 radio any time soon.

Front and centre is impressive guitar work; the band’s got a knack for writing spring-loaded hooks that build into beautiful shoegaze-inspired swells.

As usual, Jones’s powerful voice box hogs the spotlight, but the simple, strong arrangements do a lot of heavy lifting.

Most of its 10 songs last just two or three minutes. It's too good to be a mixtape and too short to be an album, raising the stakes even higher for the album proper.

His push toward “real” songwriting is aided significantly by Canadian expat and multi-instrumentalist Jason “Gonzales” Beck, who spins a Parisian pop spell on the track Luxury and grounds Tiga’s high-camp inclinations on Shoes.

The production has been updated for a new, not so distant future, but retains its mechanical crunch and metallic din.

It took me a few listens to accept the trance synth riffs that dominate, not to mention Alice Glass's increasingly melodic screeching, but the apocalyptic undertones are surprisingly effective with some sugar on top.

Levi pulls off his flamboyant persona because he has the meticulously structured songs to carry it.

Slippin' And Slidin' on Harlem River Blues, probably the 28-year-old's strongest album yet, hints at that tendency. Slippin' And Slidin' on Harlem River Blues, probably the 28-year-old's strongest album yet, hints at that tendency.

For Los Campesinos! to come up with such a strong follow-up not even a year after their last is an amazing feat.

There are moments when the sweeping melodies verge on the grandiose, but they successfully walk that difficult line between obnoxiously extroverted and too restrained.

Performing live in the BBC studios affords the group the ability to stretch out and test the new song ideas that made these one-off recordings so sought after by the group’s most ardent sweater-clad fans. Regrettably, it’s not a comprehensive collection of their entire BBC recorded output.

Many will hate it, but those willing to give it a chance will be impressed by the naked humanity West reveals. He’s gone way out on limb, and for that alone it deserves open ears.

A stellar, necessary batch of smart rock songs.

King Animal doesn't sound like a nostalgia-fed cash grab, nor is it poisoned by the desperate commercialism of Cornell's post-Soundgarden projects.

The result is a uniformly pleasant selection of peaceful, easy feelings that wouldn't sound out of place sandwiched between the similarly smooth tunes of Loggins & Messina, America, Gerry Rafferty and, yes, Christopher Cross.

Bloodsports is exactly what a Suede fan wants, and it also sounds remarkably less dated than anything their old rivals Oasis are up to these days.

While all the West Coast blue-skying might seem naive, the laid-back vibe makes you want to focus on the positive, at least for the album's duration.

The first three songs are so energetic and impassioned as to be rivetingly unhinged.

The mood is still dark, druggy and claustrophobic, but this time Tesfaye is channelling a pain that's less about cold emptiness than it is about more traditional heartbreak and longing.

Despite the limited instrumentation, arrangements are thoughtful, and the 10 songs build slowly and hypnotically through repetition. Just when a sameness begins to set in, a handful of tunes near the end ... tip us off to the fact that we've glimpsed just a fraction of Mares of Thrace's capabilities.