Lightest Ono album ever? Probably. Heaviest avant-pop from a 76-year-old mainstream pariah/underground innovator? Hell, yeah!

Both thrilling and baffling, the nine tracks prove that Vernon's appeal lies in his otherworldly sound, not in his broken heart.

It's a given that Gutter, like the ex-Pulp sideman's five previous shimmering, sepia-toned solo albums, has moments of heartbreaking beauty. Too bad those moments are outnumbered by a reliance on secondhand lyrical conceits (songbirds, shipwrecks) and drifting arrangements.

Call it Nick Diamonds Gets His Groove Back. Former Unicorn Nick Thorburn went a bit dark and dreary on 2008's "Arm's Way," but with Vapours, the transplanted New Yorker relearns his playfulness.

Happiness hasn’t blunted his keen social insight, though, as he empathizes with latchkey teens (“Tight Rope”), reflects on friends trapped in the street life (“Slippin’ Away”), and rues slavery’s consequences (“The Travelers”).

Masters of the Burial lacks the character to be more than the sum of its lovely parts: fiddles, regret, and a pretty voice.

Rain Machine doesn’t have TVOTR’s Berlin Wall of Sound might, but it’s still an accomplished work.

Reprising the underground all-star lineup from Chesnutt’s 2007 opus "North Star Deserter" (Fugazi’s Guy Picciotto, members of Godspeed You! Black Emperor and Silver Mt. Zion) yields similar results.

Moments of transcendence occasionally emerge from the murk, but not often enough.

For the first time in years, Pearl Jam are seizing the moment rather than wallowing in it.

Regardless of which indie celeb is on the mic or which recreational drug best suits the beat, each track hints at hedonism without hangovers.

They turn to the next logical ladder rung of pretension: symphony. And they may have finally found the perfect category to fuse with their ever-swooping brand of rock.

His third solo album is promoted as "new classical," but "J. City" sounds more like a grievous stab at alt-rock.

The beats by producers Black Milk, 9th Wonder, and Havoc are strictly no-frills, but just hot enough to keep these cranky yet lovable old MCs' joints from stiffening up.

Milky Ways is a clear upgrade, with better songwriting lending structure to his adventurous genre-hopping.

This dense, complex document is an impressive display of vitality by the Athens, Georgia–based Elephant 6 collective, as Will Cullen Hart of the late Olivia Tremor Control weds that band’s bizarre breakdowns with Apples in Stereo’s earnest tunefulness.

Mainly they noodle through indeterminate world-music jams that’d feel equally ignorable at mud festivals and at ethnic restaurants.

Here, a founding multi-instrumentalist member, a longtime bassist, and several supportive additions forgo the initial trio’s psychedelic pop for angular guitar riffs and agile Latin rhythms that evoke an adventurous, timeless sense of fun.

Phish's first studio album since 2004 suggests that what brought these jam-scene kings back together after a five-year breakup wasn't unbridled passion, but faith in their well-oiled machine.

With Heartbeat Radio, Lerche aligns all his identities: Gentlemanly melodies glide across elegant guitars and High Llama Sean O’Hagan’s swelling string arrangements.

Flashing all the (slight) overreach of a much-anticipated debut album, After Robots still exuberantly delivers.

Guitars and synths, both shimmering and scouring (depending on the volume level), can’t quite override the sweet harmonies at the heart of 'Die Slow,' nor can the toms stop them on 'Death+' or 'We Are Water.'

The band’s first studio album in eight years takes the Farfisa-surf luminescence of 2003’s must-own, career-spanning Anthology deeper into psychedelia, for good and ill.

This reunion packs no shortage of vintage wank--knotty, largely instrumental songs that surge together and drift apart with a proggy, loose-limbed precision.

While the songs may lack the original’s wild-eyed narrative, they still contain some of his most rewind-worthy bars in years.

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

Even without the manic singer actually up in your face, the band’s gleefully knuckle-dragging first full-length is a thrilling throwdown.

Turgid even for the genre, Artwork will make you hate yourself for singing along with tricky standouts like 'Empty With You.'