Sparkling arpeggios and sublime atmospherics undercut the loneliness and desperation in MacLean and Whang’s singing (the latter’s is the stronger of the two’s), giving tension to the confident and frequently beautiful production.

This album is well-crafted and smart.

Her strong voice (think Kim Deal or Liz Phair) remains the focal point, though wild guitars and thunderous drumming give it the foundation it needs to soar.

Dedicated to friend and colleague Vic Chesnutt, Lambchop's 11th album is as refined and dignified as the top-hat-wearing gentleman depicted on the cover.

Some might say it lacks bite, but it works nicely with Liam Corcoran’s good-guy vocals, the hum-along choruses and the band’s stunning pop chops.

The odd bit of distortion on I'm Ready and Watch Me Go disrupts the otherwise pristine party, while a heavy flirtation with piano house on Old Love/New Love returns us to life-affirming territory.

Deeper Than Rap triumphs over this authenticity deficit and is among the best rap albums so far this year.

Death Lust is an extreme album in which Williams bares his raw, overcome soul over ear-splitting guitar noise. As harrowing as it can be, it’s transcendent rock music that feels unparalleled so far this year. Durham Region should be proud.

Created during Iceland’s dark, cold winter, Nepenthe’s intimate vibe immediately warms and envelops. In short: mesmerizing.

The first three tracks build with effortless new-wave energy, making Fantasies an album you’d want to listen to while pre-drinking.

It has the vitality of today's top 40 dance-pop but is full of the kind of wisdom, wit and warmth that can only come with age.

Although the flagrantly throwback Motown numbers are a bit warmed over, the album shines when Kelly blends his old-school approach with his modern club killa persona.

Every song on this--her fifth--album sparkles with intelligence.

Continually developing and evolving, the Ex sound as vibrant as ever, and Catch My Shoe has an enviably timeless feel.

There's nothing terribly innovative going on here, but their unguarded passion is irresistible.

Her flow is kaleidoscopic and hearing her turn phrases with Jamaican reggae artist Chronixx on LMPD or trade verses with fellow Londoners Chip and Ghetts on King Of Hearts is an imaginative escape in itself.

The results are intimate yet expansive--a pleasing balance between post-rock sonic experimentation and traditional songcraft.

[Break Up With Your Girlfriend, I’m Bored is] the most jarring song on the album, which is otherwise her most mature and cohesive yet.

Blackheart is refreshingly unbeholden to the convention that requires R&B singers to balladeer non-stop at top volume.

Lyrically, Styles is at his best when he’s biting. 0000... He’s not exactly mining unexplored territory. But, he’s an Internet Boyfriend – and Internet Boyfriends are non-threatening. As he inches closer towards the adult pop contemporary charts, Styles is thankfully owning his one-fifth of the One Direction power-pop legacy.

It’s an inward, headphones-on plug into a young man wrestling with varying levels of success, from codependency and addictive behaviour to self-acceptance. It’s the sound of Zayn grappling with toxic masculinity.

When these two dimensions come together, as on the stunningly awesome 'American Names' or 'Who Do We Care For?,' it all but erases the anguished waiting for him to finally come back around.

A tighter track list homing in on its sombre (and stoner) moods would’ve been bolder, but to his credit Ross avoids commercial trendiness in favour of more personal--if familiar--forays into Philly soul, funk, 90s hip-hop and South Beach glam.

This is the most radio-friendly they’ve ever sounded, and as a result there’s less of that sense of fragile intimacy. That’s not necessarily such a bad thing, especially when it’s replaced by an addictive burning urgency, as it is here.

The laid-back riffs and grooves are balanced by big hooks and melodies that make the most of Jackson’s airy (and refreshingly unprocessed-sounding) voice.

While there are still plenty of swooshing sounds and heady instrumentation, it’s refreshing to see that Sigur Rós can do more than create aural landscapes.

This is easily the most danceable record she’s produced. Surprisingly, the weakest tracks are those that sound most like the electro-rap we’ve come to expect from her; fortunately, they’re in the minority this time out.

Together, they sound kind of Bowie glam, kind of ELO, but never dated.