This is a rich, complex and conflicted soundtrack for the best comic book movie never made.

There’s a cornucopia of sounds that definitely needs some time to be digested, but when it finally is--it’s an absolutely satisfying experience.

The Big Pink's A Brief History of Love is exactly the kind of album I wish had existed when I was 14. That's not a dig at the record; one of the more special things that a group can do musically is create a sound that appeals both to teenagers and adults.

Heart of My Own sounds more produced than Oh, My Darling, but not for lack of quality. Despite the yearning lyrical plotlines, the warmth exuded from the woodsy harmony of Bulat’s voice mingling with the amalgamation of guest instruments cozies even the bitterest of winter days.

Celebration Rock is raw frenzy, tender love, and foolish cacophony.

Made of equal parts detached beauty and inspired disintegration, it is a transmission from another place -- no matter where you live.

The album is filled with well-conceived, well-executed pop pieces, but it would be silly to pretend that the musical landscape, including Top 40, isn't occupied by songwriters who make reasonably innocent songs about boys at least as well as Best Coast does.

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

Dead Man’s Bones evokes all the right images of a haunted October, and with such sensitivity and sincerity, it’s rarely kitschy and never inappropriate.

All the elements of Espers' sound come together more seamlessly than ever before here.

This is alt-country (or folk or whatever) at its finest, music that elides from well-worn and comfortable generic trope to bursts of originality, music that revels in the holy trifecta of lyricism, instrumentation and production.

Because the songs refuse to make their musical strictures ends unto themselves, because a good sense of melody can make a bunch of analog synthesizers feel as familiar as your mom’s meatloaf, because Bazan’s lyrics celebrate the commonplace so convincingly, the Headphones manage to sound as real -- in fact, as ordinary -- as any ol’ rock band.

Believers is another step away from Bondy's noisy past, and he knows how to use his inside voice.

It's a confident debut, one that features two young musicians reveling in their abilities and perhaps discovering ones they didn't know they had.

Featuring a crunching call-and-response bass line, 'Hurricane' not only makes for a hell of a good time, but, much like the album Jim, also makes for one of Lidell’s tightest and most enjoyable to date.

At the age of 76, the Texas native proves that there is still plenty of stardust left under his cowboy hat.

Quazarz: Born on a Gangster Star is a curious new entry for the group. It expands the space-age palate of Lese Majesty, but slips in the unique tunefulness of Black Up. And yet it doesn’t quite sound like either, and--maybe unsurprisingly, at this point--it doesn’t sound like any other record you’ll hear this year.

Brevity is the buzzword throughout Skeleton. No track goes over four minutes, and five don’t even hit two minutes. But brilliance emerges within those constraints.

The poetry on To Be Still is sometimes a bit too delicate for my taste, but the songs show off much more than words alone. They display a quirky vocal talent and songwriting skill.

Living Thing isn’t easy listening, it functions best on headphones, and it doesn’t contain an obvious single. But music should be challenging.

The tensions on the second record take on new, fascinating layers as you go back to the perspective laid out on Born on a Gangster Star. The two also clash musically, sometimes echoing one another, sometimes conflicting. But both albums reward repeated listens.

This selection method lacks the cohesion of a proper album, but the uniformity of the raw emotion throughout offers some thrilling highpoints.

There’s an emotional heft here that wasn’t present before.

It’s Blitz is representative of Yeah Yeah Yeahs tightening as an unit and delivering their best album to date.

The album encapsulates summers of falling asleep on porches, cicadas chirping periodically among the trees, shaking slightly from a passing breeze.

The best song here, "Chinese Braille," isn't going to top anyone's song of the year list, but when Candy Salad is on, it seems like the only music you'll ever need. And that counts for something.

Because of his relatively privileged upbringing (he's from a wealthy part of Toronto), Thank Me Later is less about chronicling and rising up out of his environment (like basically every rap debut since Illmatic) and more about how Drake is uncomfortable being famous.

Don't consider Saigon's The Greatest Story Never Told his debut, but his farewell. It is a goodbye to the discarded first chapter of his career. The half-decade-in-the-making effort needed to be released in order for the rapper to move on.