Dear All Tomorrow's Parties: Book this band immediately and meet your future.

The West Coast threesome's pillowy, nostalgic abstractions veer from the sweeping histrionics of M83 or breezy gestures of various Scandinavians toward a woozy, romantic restlessness

Much has been made of Yelawolf's Southern rock fandom, but Radioactive is more an ode to the Southern hip-hop movement that started to seep across the world a decade ago.

Occasion opts for Kanye-esque stadium-status beats, merry lyrics that include perhaps the only rap reference to a "bar stool in Poughkeepsie," and a joyous closing cut called "Walk on Air."

From ambient juke to haunting, slo-mo house, their debut album kicks and caresses in equal measure.

Where last year's Loud had a hefty helping of unshakable singles, this album's arc, however simple--sex, love, sex, repeat--is cohesive and sweet.

The overall dark, diaphanous sound here almost oversells the title, but it's impossible not to get lost in 
the drift.

The ten songs here are a euphoric whirl of church choirs, lushly layered cymbals, poppy clap tracks, and heady psych rock, evoking peers like Tough Alliance and Tanlines.

He mostly raps on point and with confidence. But the actual words coming out of his mouth sound like they were brainstormed by a bunch of kids idling in an eighth-grade English class.

Glowing Mouth's general disillusionment anchors its sprawl.

It's only when Pterodactyl embrace their underlying pop core and ratchet up the jangle--see the breezy "The Break" or the '60s sunburst "Searchers"--that Spills Out makes an effective splash.

Phantogram drives straight through, with a clear purpose, no rest stops.

Carter Tanton -- of the now-defunct Tulsa and still-thriving Lower Dens -- style-jumps so restlessly that his second solo disc sometimes feels like a multi-artist playlist rather than a one-man show.

Buraka assemble Jamaican dancehall, Brazilian favela beats, South African ghetto-tech, and video-game ear candy like colorful Lego blocks on an earthy yet impeccably crafted working-class fiesta for dance-floor zombies and vampires of all nations.

Dive is a pretty and sturdily crafted collection of techno maybe-memories-- hypnagogic pop for a very discerning Ikea shopper.

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

Hints of folksy revelry may abound, but the dynamics are strictly library-level, and the lyrical focus is decidedly inward.

French actress Charlotte Gainsbourg's voice is small and unaffected (a stage whisper, indeed), but Beck, her producer-songwriter for 2010's celebrated IRM, tends toward the opposite extreme.

The only time the almost 80-minute Take Care doesn't work is when it indulges something resembling conventional hip-hop.

Los Campesinos! can't stop adorning their odes to existential grief with snappy handclaps, but the Welsh septet are still showing signs of growth on this third album.

Let Us Pray offers a familiar Scarface tableau, but Pusha and cast (including a demonic Tyler, the Creator on "Trouble on My Mind") paint his fantasies with requisite fervor.

Every musical stroke is a concise yet instinctive caress.

Offering a slightly subtler take on the style-shuffling of 2009′s Heartbeat Radio, Lerche somehow never loses cohesion.

Inni--a double live album (plus live DVD)--is a master class in geologically paced, ethereally pretty buildups.

Both lyrical and hypnotic, Replica serves as a deeply romantic testament to the possibilities 
of life in the Cloud.

Cass McCombs confronts life's miseries with a smirk and a softly rocking beat on this enjoyable sixth album.

Lynch handles most everything else here--vocals, guitar, writing, production--creating soundscapes that are dark, unsettling, and often confusing.

He trades in his 8-bit bloops and Sean Paul remixes to reach for R&B ringtone ubiquity on this solo debut album, warming over Timbo's jittery electro on "On My Mind," but faring better when lashing a live wire across vicious first single "The Vision," and whetting the stabbing synths of "Tron" and "Slaughter House."