This is a carefree release that is meant for our "reptilian" brain.

They reproduce, even with simple materials and simple words, complex emotions and ideas. And at the same time, they just make you want to sing, freak-out, and play beach-blanket bingo in a basement.

The type of searing instrumental rock Explosions in the Sky has helped put on the map is the modern-day heir of the aural expressionism of Debussy and Wagner.

If you have the time to dedicate to these genre-bending excursions, the effort can be worth it more often than not.

Between his willingness to experiment and a bountiful arsenal at his disposal, a spectacular range of dreamlike moods and sounds are created across Infiniheart's sixty-five minutes.

This record is the sound of a young musician being given the right chance at the right time and knocking it out of the park.

Mould is at the top of his game on Silver Age.

Whether they’re taking names or taking their sweet time, the Constantines pull no punches here.

There's a refreshingly human scale to everything on Pale Young Gentlemen--the songs are so strong that the crack of a snare drum and the bowing of a cello, simple gestures as they are, can achieve the band's grand theatrical ambitions.

The players on Monsters of Folk complement each other extremely well. There is definitely something to be said for group chemistry. These songs don’t always shine the way they could, but the album is a great effort.

Tycho is worth any self-respecting electronic fan's time.

It's a perfectly serviceable and enjoyable post-metal/rock album that makes no real mistakes, and does manage to tweak the knobs of the formula ever-so-slightly.

Well-worn, well-defined, Heaven is the work of band with nothing left to prove.

Girls are, at their most basic, a solid band of rock ‘n’ roll reappropriators.

Mountain finds the band taking several huge leaps toward that end, resulting in a more cohesive picture of their sound and a band beating down a clear path for where they'd like to take their music.

Xcel’s production doesn’t stray very far from its R&B and soul influences, but this time it comes without almost any samples, relying sometimes on players from a homebrewed funk band to create clearance-free beats instead. Unfortunately, this new recipe doesn’t always hit the mark, and songs such as “Black Diamonds and Pearls” sound more like smooth jazz than What’s Going On-era Marvin Gaye.

To have a release that's altogether thrashing, infectious and emotional achieves a depth that the slew of garage rock revivalists today fail to encapsulate.

It's all spare and often dark, but Breaks in the Armor is a surprisingly comforting album in its cloudy way.

There's no doubt that Grimes has drawn from a sea of influence to craft her dark, structured, idiosyncratic sound, but those influences have all passed through a filter so thorough, have been pulled so far from context, that the most striking thing left is Claire Boucher's point of view.

Water is leagues more mature than last year's In Evening Air--the production more robust, the lyrics more evocative of people who've been around long enough to know what's worth lamenting.

Despite a sharp shift in direction, the spirit of Ascent floats--sometimes upwards, at times skittish and swooping underneath clouds--but nonetheless rising.

At times, Party Intellectuals is as close to a straight raw rock sound as Ribot has come, though this record is all about uncorking a heavy dose of his improv/punk/soul/noise/free-jazz vocabulary, with some drone, some Moog, a little Latin, and a little blues tossed in.

Couple the immaculate playing with a contagious, everlasting energy, and you have a true representation of My Morning Jacket on top of its game.

It seems Smith and Shields simply both did what they are best at, and in the process uncovered some common ground that few thought existed. Fortunately, the results are riveting.

Furr still finds Blitzen Trapper as a band that’s relentlessly restless, just one that’s purposefully that way.

The Animal Years feels effortless.

In Flesh Tones is sensitive, unsure and guarded, yet it's comfortable and inviting despite this.

If there's one thing made clear by the satisfying catharsis and musical quantum leap of In And Out Of Youth And Lightness, it's that Patterson should ignore his earlier advice more often if it results in albums of this caliber.

Brimming with the enthusiasm of a true lover of music -- jazz, in particular -- The Further Adventures of Lord Quas will appeal to listeners who don’t bring any preconceived notions of what a hip-hop record should sound like. But even for the biggest fans, the second Quasimoto record can feel uneven.

Vapours gives Thorburn fans what they’ve wanted for a while: a great album of pop bliss from a guy who for too long has avoided delivering just that.

Pulling off the high-wire act of musical comedy this well deserves an unabashed kudos.

There’s nothing really wrong with a single one of them. The problem is that fans of Johnston’s music have been here before.

Swanlights may not be the best of his works, but it is a welcome excursion along the path of his career.

This is perhaps the first Isis album since Oceanic that both demands and inspires repeat listens. It might very well be Isis’s best work to date. At the very least, Wavering Radiant affirms that we still have good reason to follow the band's every move.

The Dears really do sound a lot like late-'90s Blur.

The result was as smart and refreshing as any rap release of the last two years. Felt 3: A Tribute to Rosie Perez, despite its droll title, is similarly serious minded.

It may be easy to namedrop a litany of '90s bands to describe Cymbals Eat Guitars, but Lenses Alien proves that doing so is a fool's errand. This sound doesn't fit such easy spaces, which is what makes it so damn good.

In Advance of the Broken Arm is at least two songs too long. Yet Stern's manner of weaving together fiercely subjective, lyrical daydreaming with Olympus-level fret-searing finally means that the album justifies the majority of its many decisions.

Beyond's highlights not only stand comfortably with Dinosaur's legendary best, but they also sound like they could have been lost outtakes from the very same sessions.

Folk-ambient doesn't get any better than this.

The stylistic buffet has enough strength to survive a handful of duds.

It's rich in talent, even if short on crossover appeal. Tyler is gifted enough to do most anything with his guitar, and he'll move you if you let him.

Okkervil River has never provided easy answers in their albums--unless you read the many interviews with Sheff, who always seems willing to explain what he can--and I Am Very Far is another fine album in an increasingly finer canon.

It’s the sound of Polvo insistently reminding listeners that they brought hot fire in 1993, and they can still bring it as good as ever in 2009.

So This Is Goodbye displays an impressive maturation on the part of Junior Boys leading man Jamie Greenspan.

At the heart of it though, we're still left with what's Björk's been doing for most her whole life: music.

Runner [is] an exceptional Sea and Cake record, and if it's not their best since their classic album, Nassau, it is at least the most surprising since then.

These new songs have lofty melodic ambitions but aren’t dedicated to the kind of journeying Ward’s lyrics imply.

No More Stories… finishes Mew’s transition into the swirling, arena-rock monsters they’ve threatened to become all along, with reliably decent results, but it fails to top the blissful heights of "Glass Handed Kits" or the pop-theory class of "Frengers."

There is a lot to be said for good chemistry. Nothing about this album is jaw dropping, but Murs and 9th play off each other so well throughout this short but sweet album that I don't really care.

Besides a cyclical feeling that veers the album into the direction of repetition at several points, Bend Beyond is a solid listen.

It's a collective of conjoined poems, meticulously attuned to shake both the earth and eardrums alike.

A tight, orderly marriage of the pastoral and the psychotropic -- plenty precise, but short on soul.

By paying just as much attention to sonic details as ever, Ejstes and his pals have put forth another refined effort, from the piano on back to the drums.

The album is nothing like a career-killer, but it is a career-worrier.

The music deliberately sits somewhere between glossy and unobtrusive. It shimmers enough to mask Allen's tepid singing voice but remains far enough away to allow her largest asset -- her snappy personality -- to take charge.

Cripple Crow is demanding because of its length - after twenty-two tracks on a single disc, nearly any artist would be difficult to tolerate. But the album is beautifully executed.

What We All Come to Need is a largely successful display of Pelican’s well-defined sound with the invigoration of guest star peers and promising glimmers of growth.

Hip-Hop Is Dead... brings out the best in the emcee, who might have produced his strongest lyrical performance since Illmatic.

With In Ghost Colours, Cut Copy have created a record that is both en vogue and timeless, familiar yet fresh, full of glossy optimism, and unforgettably gorgeous from start to finish.

The lightness, even with the same downtrodden lyrics, comes from the upbeat arrangements that find their way through the slosh of feedback--an appropriate sound for lyrics that evoke the same feeling--sloshing through the everyday. Perhaps Merritt realizes that to be comically self-loathing or misanthropic is, perhaps, all a person can ask for.

For all the creativity, there's a certain fire that's missing. The jagged energy that set White Denim apart from so many others has been rounded out, replaced with a relaxed streak and lots of noodling that wears down by D's end.

This is still a consistently great set of songs, and the album another major accomplishment for Aesop Rock--but it's still there on the edges, keeping a great record from becoming another classic from one of our best working emcees.

For much of Diaper Island, he hits his sweet spot of raw indie folk-rock, but for others he seems to be bending his personality to fit the demands of guitar noise, instead of the other way around.

Now We Can See might not be fist-clenching Thermals fans’ first choice, but it shows there’s way, way more to the band than fist pumping yellers. They’re built for the long haul.

Campfire does little to surprise.

I'm gushing, I know, but listening to something as lovely and effusive as this album on repeat can only inspire those same qualities in those fortunate enough to hear. That having been said, consider Yesterday and Today for your next indiscretion.

Despite White Bread Black Beer's undeniable beauty, it feels largely out of place as a product of the contemporary spectrum of music.

Keys and effects -- including layered samples from the bands early recordings -- sound like the foundation to the songs, creating a fuzzy expanse that the players worm their way into.

Love and Curses is filled with great melodies that burrow deep into the skull without being cloying, and offers lyrical sentiments that tug at universal truths without pandering.

The attention to detail, the avoidance of crisp production, the resonance of the instruments and voices all contribute to the depth of the music and its ability to penetrate through to the listener in an almost raw and pure state.

At worst, McEntire renders the songs on Man-Made a tad monochromatic. Most of the time, the production and songs come together seamlessly.

Little Hells still works from start to finish, but if that's the case, then it's pretty good for process output.

Generals might sound like a spoonful of sugar, but it gives you a lot of medicine to get down.

On Get Color Health hit upon a noise that’s all their own. If they make the kind of leap between albums two and three that they did between one and two, Health’s third album should be nothing short of spectacular.

Seems that no matter what project Rhys is involved in, his love of bright, Brian Wilson-inspired melodies is going to shine through.

It's true that many of these tracks are not for the casual listener, but that's also not the point.

It’s promising indeed when an album that most artists would be happy to have as their pièce de résistance still shows plenty of room for growth.

Show Your Bones is much more accessible than its predecessor, but there isn't really a "Maps" to serve as a gateway.

Fuck Death, compelling as it is, never quite finds the same charged feeling of purpose [as Skin of Evil].

You can come for the psychedelic pyrotechnics, and you can stay for the hooks: this debut is endlessly replayable.

With The Warning, the band again forces listeners to drop the safety of labeling and comparisons with other bands.

An album that lacks the band’s trademark ebb and flow, Strange Geometry is just plain inferior to the Clientele’s previous work.

It is a snapshot of Pinback at its most practiced and self-aware: fluid, calculated, penetrating, yet always at the fringe of its former incarnation.

While there's no outright showstopper like "Make the Road By Walking," The Crossing manages to phrasally reference the lightning-strike horn crescendoes that gave that single its timeless resonance.

It comes as no surprise that Fujiya & Miyagi's sound recalls other neo-futurists.... But Fujiya & Miyagi is undeniably its own band, with peppy melodicism and upfront sense of humor.

She continues to extend a thoughtful arm, whittling intricacy into something poignant and manageable.

I really struggled with whether Van Occupanther's literary, slightly nerdy, Ren-fair-leaning lyrics were more of a help or a hindrance to the album.... But at least Midlake risked the ridiculous.

Hardcore 97’s fans may be disappointed by a few omissions (only two cuts from Wreck Your Life?), but Alive & Wired is a pretty complete package.

A Church That Fits Our Needs isn't easy to define, but it is easy to get lost in.

An air of pretentiousness definitely sits over Supernature, but this is a rather enjoyable work that surpasses most material of a similar nature.

Album of the Year stands as one of 2010's most innovative and adventurous albums of any stripe, incorporating traces of African jazz, latin music, psych, metal, and more in its relentless attack. It bangs hard from start to finish, and it's guaranteed to send producers scrambling to rerecord their drums in its wake.

This time around, Zomby isn't constraining himself. This record sounds big.

They owe nothing to a far-gone musical moment, nor can they be pigeonholed. Limbo, Panto may be one of 2008’s most startlingly great debuts.

The musicians have crafted a lucid soul record (barely longer than a half hour) centered on humility, devotion, and other mature sentiments that are blissfully out-of-sync with pop/youth-centric music.

Cinder keeps things reserved, letting the sad-eyed melodies teeter around the room at a drunkard's pace.

Without sacrificing any of his detailed, anecdotal lyricism or thoughtful keyboard arrangements, Advanced Base managed to construct a record you can play over and over again without feeling so sorry for yourself.

There’s something deeply captivating about Wood’s songs, and they’re brought to an appropriate close with a tightly wound sequel (of sorts) to the album’s opener, 'Water II.'