Gimmicky yet compelling, the delicate second album by Miami's Postmarks presents 11 numerically titled covers in ascending order, plus Sesame Street's cute 'Pinball Number Count.'

They sound like serious witches--impossibly high, fluttery voices singing mystic incantations over pulsing, six-minute jams that gun for another astral plane, and occasionally reach it.

They might not know where they're going, but they have no doubt they'll get there.

Each trek follows a similar path: a tumultuous hike through sludgy quagmires and craggy doom, culminating in a melancholic, melodramatic guitar solo. This repetitive pattern accordingly obfuscates the LP’s overarching dynamic arc, although the record’s not without its surprises.

Mogis never allows the arrangements to pull focus from the Söderbergs' vocals.

There’s hardly an original thought here, but with arrangements so expertly composed, who’s complaining?

The album's guitar- and keyboard-heavy production obscures some of his folky Britpop melodies, but it shows off his Bruuuce heart in a big way. [Oct 2006, p.105]

There's real drama in the band's sweeping crescendos and ringing guitar chords; there's something genuinely affecting in their newfound emo overtones.

Hissing Fauna might be an album of ego trips, but at least Barnes is on the good stuff. [Feb 2007, p.85]

The up-tempo numbers are great fun, but the Puppets excel on the ballads, which they croon in lovely tight harmony. [May 2008, p.100]

The growth is immense, occasionally breathtaking, and always immediate.

Black twists prog and BBC radio samples into hissing, even "hypnagogic" hip-hop, then hands the results over to Brown, who shouts suicidal thoughts and sex boasts with wild abandon.

Lip Lock may not be the best rap album of 2013, but it's interesting, and it's honest. After 11 years, that's a respectable way to ride out.

This set--six meticulously documented hours recorded before his first proper album--is a progress chart.

The album is full of catchy guitar rock anthems that recall their '90s alt-rock heyday but also showcases some of the maturity and experience they've gotten since then.

These beats and bass lines make for the hardest body music he's ever produced. [Feb 2002, p.111]

The mall-ready hooks and occasional stabs at acoustic pop on Deja Entendu have been replaced by the sort of Radiohead-indebted bombast that begs to be played at lease-breaking volumes. [Dec 2006, p.99]

The endlessly quotable single 'Little Bit'--"For you I keep my legs apart / And forget about my tainted heart," the singer coos over spare electro clatter--is already a viral smash, but much of Li Lykke Timotej Zachrisson's debut is nearly as riveting.

Mixing the lawlessness of Hank Williams with the Gypsy fervor of Gogol Bordello, the band's second album is a scrappy, vaguely deranged, country-punk mélange that goes down like an impeccably mixed mint julep: sweet until it burns.

It's weird to think that these Texas upstarts are largely relegated to the fringes of pop--what they do is so basic, so elemental, it's hard to even come up with a modifier to place in front of "rock."

Some will find it a disappointing follow-up to one of the great rock records of the past few years. Some will jump around and pump their fists to every chorus without giving the lyrics much thought; some will live and die by every word. Some will even find it all kind of funny. Nobody is necessarily wrong.

The beats are subtle, but solid, better suited to a small, late-night party than a major disturbance. [Mar 2008, p.104]

This slippery debut from Odd Future's Syd the Kyd and Matt Martians embarks on a journey into Twilight Zone pop, with a lovelorn story arc that transitions from giddy crushing to it's-over melancholia.

Keenan sometimes winks too much, but he knows when to pull back from the brink of ridiculousness. [Dec 2007, p.125]

His songwriting is sharper than you might expect. [Dec 2002, p.141]

Masters of atmospheric storytelling since the early '90s, England's Tindersticks showcase the shivery yet forthright murmur of Stuart Staples.

Its stakes are a little lower, and he’s no longer revealing grand truths about life, but documenting once-dire realities from a rosier lens is still a worthwhile undertaking.

This is music for flash mobs, a valentine to crowdsourcing, and a public engagement proposal to the universe.