Government Plates doesn’t strive to be a defining post-Epic statement, but it finds Death Grips fascinated with the possibilities offered by its sound and pushing it breathlessly forward.

It doesn’t provide the thrill-a-minute jolts of Light Up Gold, but Parquet Courts may yet become a garage punk band that millennials can call our own.

Deerhunter have returned to tasteful pop-shoegaze mode and made their mellowest, most lyric-driven, most calculated... and, err, most cheesiest album. Best Beach House record of 2015!

While the album itself bleeds originality, the solos themselves are almost interchangeable, and that’s not necessarily a bad thing.

This is no disaster, nor is it a masterpiece. Songs of Innocence is a competent U2 album, always a good thing.

By scaling back from the overambitious sentiments of albums since 21st Century Breakdown and returning to the simple yet effective power chord structure of earlier Green Day, the trio manages to make Revolution Radio both personal and timely for a country going through the same sense of dislocation they themselves have all too recently experienced.

If another goal of art could be said to remove humanity, if only for a moment, from the physical world by using the tools of the very same physical world, Interiors has followed all the rules of architecture to make a building that floats.

AZD is a slim, sparse electronica record. For all its high and low frequencies, it leaves much of the human audible range empty, space to imagine.

Is Trouble In Paradise a groundbreaking work of unparalleled foresight and talent? No. But is it a spectacular assessment of La Roux’s painfully progressive growth over the past half-decade? Maybe.

Real Estate remains precise and consistent, and they retain their impeccable ear for melody.

Disclosure’s second album was never going to be as huge and loud and groundbreaking as Settle. So rather than lamenting the loss, check out what you’re missing. Because what you’re missing is terrific.

It seems as though Dylan Baldi has effectively evolved from a musical loner trying to go it alone to a mature frontman fully integrated in a strong and cohesive band. It seems as though Dylan Baldi has finally become a punk.

He now realizes he is as much part of the product as the music he makes and seems happy to be taking a backseat to the performers he’s enlisted for his fifth studio album. At no point do Harris’ sandpapery vocals scrape against the beat; this time he lets his beats do the talking.

Blood Orange’s sound is shaping up to be one of the most intriguing and important in pop today, and this sophomore effort is a promising progression for an artist who deserves more of the spotlight, but probably won’t ever demand it.

Alabama Shakes don’t rock the boat necessarily, but by refining the formula, they’ve proven they can succeed with a model that has become all too easy to fail with in recent years.

Assume Form is at its best, unsurprisingly, when he works at the periphery of his formulae.

His third record perfectly distills Passion Pit’s mission statement to a mixture of musical nostalgia and energy that coalesces quite well with larger messages of accepting the past in order to embrace the future.

His chillwave sensibilities remain, but they’re bolstered by more direct elements from the popular hip-hop and disco funk sounds of today.

This is rhythmically agile music, thankfully. The songwriting is sturdy, too, even if it can sometimes feel like Bradford & friends are running on an autopilot setting set to David Bowie’s Low.

“Soothing” sounds legitimately fresh in a way very little new music does, and while it carries inescapable echoes of other artists (the bass line reminds me of peak career Tom Waits), the overall impression is that Laura Marling is paving new ground in her brand of folk music. Unfortunately--you knew there was going to be an “unfortunately”--there are only small glimpses of that innovation on the rest of the album.

Despite its shortcomings, My Everything succeeds in its primary objective. This is a pop record, clear and simple.

25 is not a bad album, nor is it an excellent one--it’s just good, that’s all.

Sunlit Youth does feel more indebted to contemporary indie bands like Young the Giant or Phoenix than their previous records, but it’s also a fascinating snapshot of the band during an inevitable transitional phase.

Bouchard really puts work into these tunes. He strives to make each one better than it really needs to be.

For what Aa ultimately assumes itself to be--a glorified promo tape of talents--the result is quite enjoyable.

Punitive, scientifically exacting, and obstinately anti-melodic, Factory Floor is a bizarre, kinetic manifesto that rewards your attention while it screams at you to move your body.

20/20 is a total blast. You have to hand it to Justin Timberlake. Few pop artists have the skill and bravery to make such a stunning mess.

It’s when Nightride decides to shift gears in the latter half that the outing gets really exhilarating.

There’s no flash here, just a finely crafted batch of searingly personal indie rock songs. Unless you never had to grow up, it will resonate.

Taken solely as part of the Broken Bells discography it’s their best effort yet: a textured, kaleidoscopic pop record that crackles with imagination, and hints at the sign of something brilliant to come.

Songs on Oh No never outright fail, but they don’t all inspire the same level of intrigue and enthusiasm. There are moments when Lanza sings entirely in falsetto over an ambient afterglow where you will get FKA Twigs deja vu.

It does not always work, but in short, orchestral bursts, MS MR demonstrate that they can transcend the confines of goth synth-pop, and produce one of the most memorable debuts of the year.

Even in ending on a starkly depressing note, Heads Up is a strong, evocative record that solidifies Warpaint as one of the genre’s most creative and entertaining.

For a producer who’s produced songs for a who’s who of modern artists (including the occasional non-rapper like Lana Del Rey), he mostly sticks to his guns on his debut album, which applies to both the sonics (there was no way any producer sampling Annie’s “Anthonio”--the Berlin Breakdown version--was going to be bad; that’s the ear-worming sample doing all the heavy-lifting on “Overdue”) and the features.

Ultimately, the bigged up production doesn’t suit .Paak’s soulful tendencies, which are further lost in his switch to rap. There are a few highlights, sure, but not nearly enough for an artist who I would’ve placed bets would be the next Big Thing.

It lacks the game-changing element of The Earth is Not a Cold Dead Place or Those Who Tell the Truth. Instead of pushing into new universes, they’re content to find a quiet corner in one they’ve already built. That being said, the craft involved is evident, and there’s an assuredness and polish to the compositions; the fingerprints of a veteran group.

It’s a truly overwhelming amount of a somewhat good thing.

The freedom of expression and thematic irregularity that we hear while listening to Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros is a fabulous release from the traditionally despised contract that constrained Ebert’s first and former band, Ima Robot.

Title track aside, this a really good album by a really sketchy guy.

Because of its contemplative nature, Crawl Space functions best as a deep listen rather than a casual playlist; while pleasant, its concentrated complexity requires attention to fully appreciate Teicher’s vision.

Fans of Marnie’s music are fully aware of what an album of hers going to bring, and on The Chronicles of Marnia, she brings it.

This album moves and soothes, if it does anything at all.

The production is superb, crisp drums that pop, keys that sparkle and tones that you recognize from Rostam’s other production. ... When Hamilton and Rostam record together they use the same voice.

It’s not something that plays as well in the daylight. But when it soundtracks your darker, interior night life, it’s like being given a tailored suit. Everything fits, and the sum effect is something sharp and modern.

Sure, the lyrics are sometimes a little silly, and the musical hooks are sometimes a trifle too easy. But even at its worst, this is fun stuff.

The elements are still there, but they aren’t fused in a way consistent with the hopes of those who foresaw The Strokes being the best rock band of our tim

It all comes satisfyingly full circle, but Familiars mostly washes over you when it should be lunging for your heart.

Rapor is an absorbing and accomplished 80’s sheened synth-pop EP infused with heartache and imagination.

No Age may not have delivered another knockout, but An Object compensates for its shortcomings by being a mature and often moving album, a first for the duo.

Foreverly offers many pleasures but would have been easier to swallow as a 6-song EP.

Here, Sampha sounds comfortable and confident, showcasing his vocal prowess rather than merely living with it.

They make what is quite complex musical structures look easy, almost juvenile, and package them in shiny production gift wrapped for the masses over the airwaves or PA system or turntable.

The brew of Anything In Return is strong enough that its overly sugary moments don’t ruin the experience of the album, and it’s certainly strong enough to merit many, many plays.

So It Goes comes as close to hardcore as an album with this sonic palette can: dense, immediate, energetic, and uniquely inclusive.

Wig Out at Jagbags lands locked and loaded, ready to please the Kool-Aid drinkers among us. You’re either in or you’re out, and you already know which side you’re on. For the thirsty among us, enjoy.

Guilt Trips is legit--an EDM record that’s smart, tasteful and fun. Maybe nothing new, but pretty damn good.

The Inevitable End closes Röyksopp’s career with neither a bang nor a whimper.

Humanz, Damon’s fourth record as Gorillaz, is not his best, but it didn’t need to be. It’s a comeback record that’s less immediate and sugary than Plastic Beach, less iconic than the self-titled or Demon Days. It is a party record that sounds like it was made at a party rather than for one.

All of the songs (minus one useless interlude) had at least something worth returning to.

With On Your Own Love Again, Jessica Pratt has crafted a record that is as accessible as it is complex, two traits that she proves are not mutually exclusive.

Universal Themes covers so much ground, it can’t help but live up to its name.

There’s plenty of substance to be found here if you look hard enough.

It builds on the promise of his mixtape, extends itself into new territory, and in the process reveals some of the shortcomings of Rocky’s craft.

MCIII is, in the end, the perfect sunny day album.

But for the most part, Magpie provides us with another bundle of easygoing tunes from a band that seems to have a limitless supply.

While of Montreal aren’t exactly strutting 2007-style again, their tweaked, re-energized sound has them strutting nonetheless. And that’s what they do best.

For the most part, though, it’s a bloody great collection of songs. The Horrors do have a masterpiece inside them, and with each release it’s bubbling closer to the surface.

It’s all over the place, but in a good way. After all, when two people come together to create one identity, it makes sense for that identity to be a bit mercurial.

It’s a funny and effortless mixtape.

While Time isn’t a massive overhaul, Bear in Heaven tweaked where they needed to, and picked up a pretty neat trick along the way. The more you listen to these songs, the more they linger.

They are engaging, but ultimately don’t have the same replay-ability as the classic Bevan stuff.

Voices marks a more complete work from a duo fully in sync; in their element.

Imperfect as it might be, the album’s relentlessness is also it’s chief allure. In reality, Eagulls sounds more innovative than it probably is due to the world in which it arrives.

With Wakin On A Pretty Daze, Vile has added another seemingly effortless 70 minutes’ worth of straightforward, easygoing golden tones to his consistent discography.

With this album, Ty has proven that he’s not just another hook and single singer. He’s actually capable of creating a project that keeps listeners engaged for 16 tracks.

Dangerous Woman shouldn’t be taken particularly seriously as any kind of “maturation,” but that it still has some pretty good songs on it. Not counting the bonus tracks, there are only two outright throwaways.

Sometimes Cardi B runs out of things to say. “Bartier Cardi”, though it rips, repeats its extensive chorus five different times. “Money Bag” stomps forward with “Bodak Yellow”’s flow and sound, and in my opinion, last year’s favorite record pales in comparison to the strides she makes on Invasion… The vulnerability on display in the standout “Be Careful”, where Cardi B shows off a soft singing voice and a softer side, is a perfect example.

This record’s closest counterpart is last year’s Currents from Tame Impala. Temples can’t quite reach pop solidarity like those Aussies, but they come close enough.

As expected, Shriek, Wye Oak’s newest full-length, is filled to the brim with surprise.

Where the album certainly succeeds, though, is in its crafting of a colorful, if a tad overlong, mission statement for a producer still only beginning to approach the extent of his potential.

The record is weighty, but with a defter, more nimble touch than on prior efforts.

On Dynamics, Frankel and Millhiser made an unnatural-yet-understandable misstep, but on Crime Cutz, they’re hoping to regain their footing and play off their awkward slip by reverting back to what worked for them in the first place. It’s fun hearing it work for them again.

Bankrupt! doesn’t inspire the covetousness of their early material, but rather it takes its natural place as an album to be consumed en masse by Phoenix’s hefty fan base.

Little Fictions is another solid entry in the Elbow catalog.

The nonchalant attitude Wavves approaches music-making with provides a cap to the height it can reach in terms of producing something truly excellent or groundbreaking. However, that’s kind of the whole point.

Even though it doesn’t do nearly enough to distinguish itself from the band’s earlier albums, it’s an enjoyable enough listen that it’s not too hard to excuse its flaws.

Yours, Dreamily will be perfect comfort food for rock and roll purists.

Harry Styles is fun listening and will rightly soundtrack many a summer. But after demanding to be treated as a capital-A Artist, Harry Styles finds himself atop a pedestal without anything to say.

Matsson makes solid use of a band this time too, to flesh out the bare-bones folk-pop for which he has previously been renowned.

Migos have mastered their craft, but they spend too much time delivering what we expect instead of exploring their more interesting caprices.

She may be uncertain of her talents, but she’s not uncertain of who she is, and in the case of Fin, that’s just enough.

To fully enjoy Bonito Graduation, view it through its own inquisitive outlook, and to not be daunted by the fact some of it won’t be understandable to you.

Self-aware in all of the right ways and delightfully crass in all of the wrong ones, Mr. Wonderful is ultimately a bit of a lark, but it is also far more enjoyable, far more self-aware, and far wittier than it needed to be.

It’s been well over a decade since Julian Casablancas & Co. have released an album as taut and wasted and sexy as Anthems for Doomed Youth.

Rainbow may not contain the electrobops you expect from Kesha Sebert, but at its heart, it does possess what drew everyone to her in the first place: confidence, sonic booms, and an assurance that everything will be alright when the storm clears.

In addition to nostalgia, they also use the easy weapons of doing that juxtaposition thing of pairing cheery music with sad lyrics and vocals and putting the other single (a nice climbing keyboard line in that one) wisely as what would be the opener of the second side if this were the vinyl age; spacing out the good stuff instead of front-loading the record. The other songs aren’t bad, but their pleasures are pleasant at best.

Love Streams is far from Hecker’s best release. But it’s a promising development in his career, in that it proves not only that Hecker hasn’t run out of ideas but that he’s still bursting with them.

While Goodness doesn’t match the raw feeling or sincerity of Home, Like Noplace Is There, it’s well worth the time of any self-respecting emo junkie.