West's writing and delivery has improved since "The College Dropout," though they're still marked by both a cleverness and a clumsiness.

A wonderfully crafted album built on songwriting that is witty and potent.

It's in that strange tug and pull from which struggle springs passion and beauty that these men seemed to effortlessly thrive. And it is there with both a genuine, relatable sadness and an unwavering resolve so rooted in the broken concrete Bradley walks upon, that No Time For Dreaming also comfortably sits.

This tribute has a back-to-the-future quality, a sad wave at a sensibility that has slipped out of our reach: lost, indeed.

The Horror's assault is quite capable of speaking for itself, and that's what makes it so memorable.

In Our Heads boasts at least eight festival crowd decimators, and finally strikes the right balance between Hot Chip's two sides.

Rare is the album that's able to expand an established band's fan base while completely satisfying the cult of early flag planters, but Strawberry Jam has that chance.

Fourteen Autumns and Fifteen Winters is full of thoroughly enjoyable tunes and melodies if you're willing to give it time.

Popular Songs finds the band crafting solid indie rock that is more by-the-numbers than Yo La Tengo has been in the past.

Underneath the Pine, like Causers before it, is slightly padded, with ambient passages helping bump this past the 35-minute mark.

Black Mountain seems to have perpetrated some legitimate time travel, creating a record that could have sprung from an era of muscle cars, muscle tees, and moustaches.

Pilot Talk II is brilliant because it builds on its excellent predecessor, but finds just a touch more focus.

Everything is more complex, more daring, and simply more produced than anything else they've done. In that sense, it's the best kind of EP, existing because of a discernable creative spark, not as a clearinghouse for also-ran songs or a victory lap following a knockout year.

This is a brief, refreshing escape from the trend-channeling that seems to have replaced genuineness.

Factory Floor achieves something that many albums don't--it serves up as a impressive album with no expectation.

Tim Hecker’s beautiful meditations are inviting but still retain the edge of a seeker that isn’t quite finished with the trip.

Let's Wrestle may, in all their zeal, cram a couple songs too many onto this record, but it's a minor setback for a pop record that carries as much melody as it does personality.

Because of the Times is Kings of Leon's turn at maturity, without any of the pretentiousness that customarily surrounds that label.

Like all score-dominated soundtracks, Slumdog Millionaire, at times, sounds like a mishmash of random pieces that don’t have much to do with each other. But that’s due to the fact that these pieces were created with specific visuals in mind -- so only listening to the album, you’re only getting half of the story. But this half is still pretty incredible.

Cahoone has delivered another confident, solid record.

Despite its short shelf life, Real Estate, if it hits you at the right time, can be splendidly transcendent.

Though he's still in the spotlight, only time will tell if these more brutal, free-jazz brass tendencies will alienate Stetson from the melody-seeking set.

Calcination does not lack sincerity or focus, but that doesn't make it any easier to digest.

Of all the group's works, Pick a Bigger Weapon has a greater sense of inclusion and belonging.

Five Roses is far from mere homage. This is the work of a precocious and incredibly ambitious songwriter who is playfully navigating the history of pop music.

Black City is his thesis on how he's capable of delivering a dark, lustful album just as easy as he can mine more bubbly, melodic sounds. Beyond this, he's delivered one of the more cohesive and thematically sound albums of the year so far.

The Sun Awakens' sparseness has a deepness to it that requires spending time with the album in its entirety in order to truly understand it.

As a series of a mood pieces detailing the luxury lifestyle of hip-hop's one-percenters, Take Care is fairly captivating. As a portrait of the artist at the top of the mountain, however, it's pretty frustrating.