On A Mission's song arrangement is spot on and completely avoids the awkward transitions that can dog "genre-defying" projects. A must-have.

An endlessly listenable album.

There’s a sense of playfulness on I Don’t Wanna Die (In The Hospital) and NYC – Gone, Gone that’s missing from Cassadaga, and enough catchiness to keep radio stations happy (even if said track happens to be an ominous ode to a dying boy), but it’s on the achingly simplest of songs where Oberst’s familiar splenetic growl returns at last.

Spiritualized always had that out-of-body, walk-toward-the-light quality; Pierce just seems to be doing it better now than on the last two 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.

The Future Crayon, like Tender Buttons, is a little predictable at first but grows more complex after several listenings.

Garage punk hero Jay Reatard has grown up, and, surprisingly, this has turned out to be a very good thing indeed.

Hanson artfully pits his airy vocals and kaleidoscopic harmonies (there's a pronounced Kinks vibe) against thick, sludgy guitar riffs and crashing drums.

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.

It's an unnerving listen that demands a certain amount of masochism, but you've definitely never heard another band like Nissenenmondai.

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.

Admittedly, the whiny Martsch-inspired delivery of singer dude Christian Hjelm will be a turnoff for some, but the Figurines' compositional skill shows real promise, and their endearing enthusiasm should win them many fans over here.

A pretty decent melancholy pop album that deserves to be heard outside of dormitories and campus bars.

It helps that lead singer Tim Cohen is gifted with an expressive baritone that easily lends itself to any style the band tries on, but their subtly complex guitar rhythms and melodic hooks do just as much heavy lifting.

This time around they sound slightly more connected to genuine dance music, while at the same time stripping away some of the atmospherics to allow more of their subtle pop sensibilities to surface.

Tindersticks’ return to form on their eighth album isn’t evident when you first press play. But look past the uninteresting six-minute jazz drone that opens the album and you’ll see that the prolific English group still has the enough soul to succeed.

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.

There is plenty of [crescendos], but Gonzalez also proves adept at pacing, surrounding M83's bigger, more anthemic moments with ambient instrumental interludes and balladic "comedown" tracks.

There are lots of references thrown into their oddball funk, but it's starting to sound completely logical and natural.

Wasner’s vocals seem more confident and assertive now, as if she’s come of age. Still, there are moments on Shriek just yearning for a clever guitar melody or screeching solo.

Whether it’s your thing or not, Music Go Music’s blissed-out pop is, at the very least, well crafted.

There's very little here that ups the ante (or matches the highlights) of the original Illinois disc.

He’s managed to inject this compact collection of eight tunes with more than a whiff of 90s alt-radio nostalgia, but the songs are hummable enough to rebuff anyone inclined toward cynical eye-rolling.

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.

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

As with similar high-concept projects, most of it doesn't work, and the most successful pairings are often the ones you'd least expect.

Paired with Quezada and Thulin’s frantic soundscapes, Obey is a reminder that the steeliest demeanors can belie a raging cauldron of emotion. By the time the album’s short 38 minutes are over, what seemed at first like ambivalence feels more like transcendence.

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.