Get Lonely reveals an artist in full command of his craft.

Killing Joke doesn't supersede the previous self-titled incarnation so much as it refines the band's legacy and sound without sacrificing an ounce of fury. The result is a real keeper.

We Shall All Be Healed emphatically proves that Darnielle can create compelling, dynamic music beyond the comfortable confines of his living room couch.

A gifted, natural performer, Rice has had little problem connecting with audiences, filling O's quiet stretches with a likeable persona developed from his previous life busking on the streets of Europe.

Nothing here approaches the pop perfection of Romantic's "Letter From An Occupant," but songs like Newman's "The Laws Have Changed" and Bejar's spirited "Testament to Youth in Verse" nonetheless add weight to one of the year's strongest and unabashed pure-pop releases.

An unflinchingly grim set.

The charms of No, You C'mon are much more readily apparent: the songs themselves are more concrete, more dynamic.

I Am A Bird Now is a beautiful-sounding record, and though it doesn’t contain anything as remarkable and emotionally piercing as the debut’s “Cripple and the Starfish,” it nonetheless reveals a band and lead artist refining a musical universe populated by drag queens, cabaret dancehalls and a tolerant and open community.

While it may not be the orgiastic smorgasbord of pop delicacies The Fiery Furnaces aimed for, it's nonetheless one of the most ambitious pop albums released this year.

Rather Ripped is a solid collection of songs smartly executed by a band secure in its legacy and refusing to go gently into that good rock night.

As with many concept albums, the concept itself gets buried beneath the show-off virtuosity, the band's ringing need to not only impress but bedazzle the listener.

Intense, invigorating and beguiling.

Comfort of Strangers is a more confident record than 2002’s Daybreaker, exhibiting an economy of craft and unvarnished execution that might glide by less attentive ears but rewards the keen consumer with a warmth and depth worthy of the artist who created Central Reservation.

Incorporating the best moments of the band's previous two releases, Reconstruction Site offers a clear blueprint for future efforts, built on Samson's instinctual mingling of liberal-arts smarts, poignant sketches of perceptive reflection, and a melodic infrastructure of pop and rock gestures.

What sets him apart from other, more gifted MCs is the refreshing degree of naked self-examination and social commentary he brings to the table.

Multiply sacrifices cohesion in its quest for stylistic diversity, but it’s a bravura tour through the smooth sounds and hot jams of yesteryear.

While such diversity isn't necessarily a bad thing, it does tend to break the rhythm of his albums.

It's the band's most vital disc to date, and one of the year's most memorable listening experiences.

In the end, underneath the strings and the percussion and the guitars, that is what The Arcade Fire has been about: making us want to do. That the band again achieves that goal, after changing its scope and refocusing tis sound, makes Neon Bible a success.

Kasher's jagged, jarring song cycle suggests an unholy fusion of the Cure's Robert Smith and Sebadoh's Lou Barlow.

Ultimately, Vapor Trails rises above its own musical shackles, propelled by pleasantly memorable melodies and an aura of lyrical poignancy.

Low goes overboard at points, and detrimentally so... [but] the dissonance and harmonies mostly gel.

This is the real deal, played by men who haven't lost their edge after a two-decade absence.

Faultless sequencing, an array of clever (and comfortably familiar) beats, and a refreshingly optimistic, apolitical vibe make We Are Monster a keeper.

Far and away her most radio-friendly album to date.

A compellingly listenable record whose thematic signal points add up to one of the very, very few viable theme/concept albums composed solely of cover tunes.

If Time Out of Mind is the weathered, death-obsessed uncle who drinks too much and broods over things unchangeable and distant, and Love and Theft is the rakish cad gleefully dancing on the edge of the apocalypse, then Times is Theft’s clean-shaven, less-interesting brother, with a bit of schooling under his belt and a professional spit-and-polish finish.

Fox Confessor is often striking, intermittently dazzling and occasionally puzzling.

This handsomely eclectic collection merits inclusion as an essential addition to Yo La Tengo's richly diverse catalogue.

One of the stronger debuts released this year.

I Can't Stop is impressively consistent: There's not a sub-par song in the bunch.

Last Exit is noteworthy for taking on a sound that's easy to screw up (emoting over synthetic beats) and actually making it work.

North moves with an inevitable constancy, and could have perhaps benefited from one or two more upbeat tracks. But such consistency is certainly a forgivable flaw, especially when it's done as elegantly and earnestly as presented here.

Woman King is an ideal transition record for Beam, interweaving colorful new threads into a familiar pattern and hinting at powerful and majestic songcraft to come on his next full-length.

Fast Cars is volatile, angry, and certainly unappreciative of the current administration (especially its war policy). Fortunately, Aesop Rock manages to criticize without losing the beat.

Venice doesn't hold together as well as Endless Summer, but it still proves another fascinating, creatively gallant album from one of the more vital artists currently operating in the world of electronica.

Apart the two versions are about equal, combined they could have been amazing.

Last Days of Wonder finds the Handsome Family hitting a comfortable stride.

Scissor Sisters' debut is a brilliant ode to a musical era defined by vapid decadence and disposable dance tracks.

It's the magnetic push and pull of its different sonic layers and shifting moods that really defines the record (for better and worse), and rewards repeated listens.

Good News could well be looked back on as the band's rite of passage, filled with energetic but reckless noisemakers and more studied, stylistically adventurous tracks.

Madlib creatively melds electronic and jazzy elements, entertaining voiceovers akin to the kind heard on Batman or Superman cartoons, and snippets of Sun Ra to fashion a wildly diverse yet coherently executed tableaux of brainy, original noise-art.

Although it threatens to flicker out in spots, Pawn Shoppe Heart mostly blazes with an intensity that avoids sounding contrived or dated.

Ultimately, You in Reverse is more a refinement than an evolution of Built to Spill’s sound. Fortunately for those inclined to guitar rock, it’s a great sound.

Unsurprisingly, Cave's overriding thematic goal of reconciling morality with desire on Abattoir Blues / The Lyre of Orpheus falls short of its mark. But with such a complex and difficult target, that's to be expected.

Throwing Muses, the 2003 incarnation, sounds as close as it ever has to the pre-House Tornado lineup some sixteen years back.

While it might not push the experimental envelope as forcefully as some critics or fans would like, it nonetheless sounds as vital and vibrant as any pop-rock record released this year.

The grim mood and countrified sound of Singing Bones doesn't differ dramatically from the past few Handsome Family albums.

Ghosts of the Great Highway is propelled by excellent songwriting, rich, heartfelt vocals, and solid musicianship.

Rock N Roll contains 14 Adams originals, it’s essentially a stylistic covers record, and a damn fine one at that.

Folds has mastered his material to the point that he no longer relies on a smartass punch line to deliver the goods.

No matter what vehicle Hersh utilizes as an outlet, it’s obvious her creative wave has yet to crest.

On balance, Fishscale earns its street-cred stripes and adds another worthy release to the Great Wu-Tang Best Solo Effort debate.

Rubber Factory finds inspiration in decay, and signals a hopeful future for the Black Keys.

Rubies is one of the most enjoyable listens from Bejar’s solo catalog and comfortably stands with 2002’s This Night as his best effort.

Keep on Your Mean Side is a solid debut from a duo with enough moxie to shamelessly retread their myriad influences without coming across as so annoyingly derivative as to negate its brash, anything goes energy.

A blithe, energetic and wholly likable album.

The biggest upside to the release, however, is that now the intrepid Illinois enthusiast can cobble together one super playlist.

Obviously, the peerless craft and genuflecting reverence are beyond reproach; those desiring a more progressive form are out of luck.

A downbeat, surprisingly ruminative affair, less concerned with dance-floor breakouts than the inevitable post-party comedown.

More than anything else, This is Not a Test! is a fun listen: Missy obviously enjoys poking fun at herself, and doesn't shy away from promoting a sexually empowered female persona.

Chávez Ravine suffers from an uneven flow due to the varying quality of the material.

There aren’t as many memorable cuts as on Adams' stellar solo debut, Heartbreaker, but Jacksonville City Nights reveals an older, more seasoned performer.

In addition to simply being a package for the band's more obscure tracks, the album nicely spans its shift from folksy, melancholy introspectiveness to light summer-pop.

The Search is protest music for the cryptology set.

On the whole, Before The Dawn Heals Us is a more unified, singular vision than Dead Cities.

Ejstes is a remarkable talent, and it will be worth listening to hear if he leaves his ardently retrograde Dungen identity behind and pushes toward more forward-leaning concepts.

Hill feels more like a retrospective than a steady gallop toward the next stage in Smith's artistic advancement.

Clearly, what we’re dealing with here isn’t a new Modest Mouse, but one with a few new, calculated tricks.

A restless, questing work.

It's a sonically interesting, lyrically diverse collection.

[Oberst] displays a mastery of material, a reigning in of indulgences that promises stronger work to come.

Yes, there's a fair amount of filler here... But District packs a number of bouncy, accessible car-radio stocking-stuffers.

Damaged is quintessential Wagner: a ponderous, carved-wood gut-punch of a record that finds hope in the mundane details of everyday life, even as the big worldly picture comes crashing down with alarming force.

Fans of Simple Things, Zero 7's debut effort, won't hear anything new or different, but considering that Falls makes for lovely background music, it should satisfy those fans just fine.

A Healthy Distrust reinforces Sage Francis’ standing as one of the most verbally gifted rappers currently in the game, but it lacks the cohesive flow of Personal Journals and complains about a host of worldly ills without offering much in the way of a positive solution.

Proponents of Mars Volta’s Frances the Mute will claim that anyone who doesn’t like the album simply can’t handle the lyrical depth and amazingly multi-layered musical complexity; critics who pan the release will claim it’s overlong, indulgent, and -- did we mention indulgent? The truth, as usual, falls somewhere in between.

Imagining an all-acoustic version of Martha Wainwright hints at the true potential lurking beneath the strings and high-calorie programmatic flourishes that, while undeniably pretty, detract unnecessarily from the eponymous focal point.

Heroes to Zeros may not wholly reconcile mainstream expectations with the Beta Band's desire for personalized expression, but it does come as close to aligning those twin poles as anything the band's recorded thus far.

There's a rigid sincerity to his work that refuses to allow him to drift too far from the statements of purpose he so carefully lays down in the studio.

Reznor doesn't attempt to bludgeon the listener with either overreaching musical ambition or awkward lyrical poignancy, making With Teeth that rare animal: a Nine Inch Nails record that doesn't force a false sense of visceral urgency.

Given the four years since the band's previous album (and arguably its defining moment), one can't help wishing it didn't sound quite so effortless. A little more elbow grease would have gone a long way.

Everything Ecstatic doesn’t come together as solidly as prior Four Tet releases, but it unquestionably contains the blueprint for far greater explorations to come.

Fall Back Open builds its Brian Eno-esque architecture into a warm, vulnerable document of searching and fear of connection, resulting in a pleasantly engaging and subtly memorable offering.

There are moments when Feels Like Home feels too maudlin ("Humble Me") or overly subdued ("Carnival Town"), but it's a generally winning collection of finely polished (albeit innocuous) gems.

If you love guitar histrionics, Live in Chicago is a white-hot keeper.

Fans of the New Pornographers will find Slow Wonder not quite as rocking (though "Miracle Drug" features some crackling guitar work), but possessed of just as many memorable hooks and choruses.

The best Hitchcock album of the new millennium: Less insistently jagged and catchy, but with a bit of sting wrapped in its more tasteful arrangements.

[Speakerboxxx:] A worthy addition to the impressive OutKast catalogue.... [The Love Below:] Unfortunately, Attention Deficit Disorder just isn't a workable substitute for craft, nor is a preoccupation with sex quite the same as art.

Knuckle Down holds together quite well, revealing an artist still developing a powerful and engaging self-analytical aesthetic.

Donuts is fascinating, disorienting and -- despite its best efforts to avoid such sympathies -- a bittersweet document of a too-young talent who ran out of time.

Arular is an impressive first outing, even if it does suffer from repetitive drill syndrome... and too often favors a smart hook over offering anything politically relevant to say.

One of the most refreshing modern R&B records from a diva-ascendant in a long time.

If Youth and Young Manhood was Kings of Leon tentatively using well-tested implements, Aha Shake Heartbreak is the sound of a group boldly forging a unique identity from common tools that have been stripped of all pretense and decoration.

West is still a better assembler of talent than he is an MC.

While it may not match the exuberant authority of a band at the height of its powers, set by Millions Now Living eight years ago, it does manage to prove itself worthy, in its own way, of the distinct creative voice that high-water mark captured so well.

The Invisible Invasion is far from a masterpiece... but it encouragingly signals a definite progression in the Coral’s thematic and arrangement skills.

The group's edgy, fast-paced New Wave 2K brand of rock recalls the sharp, nerdy delivery of XTC, the impassioned focus of the Jam and ping-ponging hooks reminiscent of the Vapors.