In short, Wish on the Bone is an excellent album, whether your preference is more on the indie rock or the alt-country side.

While it's hard not to succumb to the subtle disappointment inherent in hearing an artist you love make such a sudden shift in sound, beyond that initial disappointment is an album that is the artist’s maturest to date. An album that is, somehow, equal-parts icy and warm; which progresses, despite this contrast, with an ease that is masterful; and which, inevitably, leaves me curious and yearning for LPs 3-7.

Though I can't say this album has as many of these killer tracks as Xiu Xiu's previous albums, Women as Lovers is a satisfying installment for fans of Xiu Xiu's singular style.

Rivers' lyrics are just as bad as they've always been, the band's sense of pop-song structure is still the backbone of every track, but that doesn't matter when everyone is having fun.

With Ritual in Repeat, Tennis have crafted the most affecting record of their short career and purged the emptiness too often lurking behind the facade of similar artists, not to mention their own past work.

This is a special piece of music, and one that is all the more likely to impress because of how unexpectedly it departs from the formula laid out in Part 1. As both a standalone piece and as a counterpart to its predecessor, Everything Not Saved Will Be Lost – Part 2 is a towering achievement.

As it stands, Wild Crush is their most complete, well-rounded and accessible record to date.

Who Will Look After the Dogs? is a long way from a perfect record, but this is no obstacle to respecting it on its own terms — as a sadsack burnout trip from a band that has lost sight of almost all its past brilliance and knows it, but still has enough dignity to own its scrappy qualities for what they are, rather than inadvertently collapsing into them (The Unraveling of PUPTheBand) and/or self-consciously hawking them (per The Unravelling of PUPThegoddamnedBAND).

Go Tell Fire to the Mountain and WU LYF by extension soar on how excitingly singular they are; I want nothing more than to love this, just this, forever.

Human the Death Dance may not be perfect and perhaps not even an improvement for fans, but regardless, it's full of wonderful moments that should satisfy fans and serve as a great introduction for newcomers.

The album is packed full of glossy guitar riffs, silly sing a long lyrics, and bombastic arena-rock choruses.

Guns is a fun album, made for fun people, but that doesn’t mean that instants of awkwardness don’t result.

Tomboy doesn't speak loud enough for us to hear it. It hums, rather; it mumbles. It actually can't speak.

Last Place is a fittingly contented throwback/possible farewell.

Eremita has the makings of something excellent, especially given the quality of the guest performances and the sheer creative vision that Tveitan holds within himself.

For an album heavily predicated on Adams' historically hit-or-miss songwriting, Ashes & Fire is surprisingly steady.

The album is the result of its own thought process, and ultimately becomes the most revealing thing Lekman has written, even if it is his most succinct record.

Thrice Woven may be credited with returning this Olympian outfit on the right path but ultimately, Primordial Arcana combines the band’s better features into one, defining release.

It's a take it or leave it sort of deal and though I presume that is exactly how it's going to be received among most listeners, there's a fan base here for any romantic fuzz-nerd with a sweet tooth, which considering the success of the inferior Dum Dum and Vivian Girls (of which one plays in Best Coast's live band (with all due respect)) is quite an audience indeed.

Beneath the psychedelic bluster and cluttered production job, this is still mostly the same old Noel. The man's been doing one thing for most of his career, and continuing to do it well even post-Oasis.

Air is a masterpiece of production and gives the best few tracks from the entire collection. Earth is a cool-down lap after the more developmental and progressive preceding discs, showing a Thrice that is willing to trade in all that has made them great during their niche period (1999-2004) in favor of pursuing a less challenging but equally viable sound

Rheia is remarkably and unexpectedly cohesive in sound, while still sprawling and thoughtfully arched.

What Go lacks in depth- yes it really is this cheery, eat your gummi bears- it makes up for in being honest. Go is the most candid, open look into Jonsi Birgisson we've ever received.

Perverts’ 90-minute runtime and average song length of ten minutes could be intended to alienate, and undoubtedly harmed the record’s replay value for me as I continued to dig deeper into it. Perhaps this is the point, or perhaps I’ve missed it entirely. Either way, my respect for these compositions never dwindled because of their bravery and clarity of artistic vision.

Lyrically, however, the album is just another soul-searching journey, and while he may be getting too old to call a “boy genius”, he's not lost any of his wistful intelligence.

The second half of the album is much more consistent if you still feel like listening, but beyond a spare moment or two (“This Blackest Purse” is surprisingly touching), most of Eskimo Snow is easily surpassed by other songs from Why?’s catalogue.

Traditional Synthesizer Music’s rudimentary way of coming to be has an added bonus in that it’s softer on the ears than pretty much any of its predecessors, making the points at which Funk wakes from his slumber all the more palatable.

Basically, Oversteps is solid to chill to. But don't expect to be entertained/enthralled in the slightest.

Themes for Dying Earth is fragile, beautiful to behold, dazzling at times, and easily one of the best surprises of the year thus far.

The bare arrangements are a compliment to her voice, which is nimble enough to meander through all of the record’s introspective verses while also retaining enough power to deliver the occasional knock out chorus.

Metal Forth isn’t a bad album—it’s just deeply disappointing. It doesn’t feel like a new release, and more importantly, it doesn’t sound like a Babymetal album. Ironically, the three excellent original tracks only highlight what the rest of the album is missing.

It’s smart at points, silly at others, often musically unremarkable, occasionally pure pop gold and easily listenable without providing significant satisfaction for more than ten to fifteen minutes after the act of consumption.

In the long run, How Long Do You Think It's Gonna Last? will be remembered as a success of chemistry and careful balance. ... They sound confident and ebullient, and even the darkest moments are tinged with the hope that community and collaboration can bring: the sound of musicians reveling in the sheer, simple joy of making music, with brothers or with the family that they chose.

Despite the lack of any real surprises, Awakening easily stands with anything else Sacred Reich has ever done and shouldn’t disappoint any longtime fans that are still out there. For those that were too young to experience Sacred Reich back when they were originally active, just be prepared for some early nineties-style metal with a few songs that move back in time to a point when no-frills thrash ruled the metal landscape.

For old school fans of the band, Dying of Everything would be more than enough. ... for newcomers, this might be an issue, as we're not in the 90s anymore, and to impress a new generation of metalheads that think this or that deathcore album “could use more blast beats”, Obituary would need to submit themselves to a change that isn't feasible or realistic.

None of them break any new ground for the act, however, they are really tight songs overall.

The Killers’ sixth studio album embodies the band’s liberated spirit and boundless appetite for the grandiose, all while beginning to make up for over a decade of below average material. Imploding the Mirage will finally have you smiling about The Killers again – and yes, this time, like you mean it.

A&E is a record that has the propensity to entice fans old and new across the genre spectrum.

As Buke and Gase ebb and flow from one creative whim to the next, Scholars marks one of the oddest and most intriguing albums of the early year.

Two Suns then is everything it could have been--a worthy follow up to Bat For Lashes’ Mercury nominated Fur & Gold... and so much more. Here and now, take a trip, you just may come out enchanted.

In its execution, the record is near flawless, an essential distillation of the sounds of Gonzalez's youth, nostalgia and melancholy and happiness all mixed up into a sparkling pop stew.

Overall, Lost Girls ends up as a fun record that luckily, doesn’t overstay its welcome. It has groove and substance as it takes its cues from the likes of Prince, David Bowie, Madonna, Cindy Lauper or Peter Gabriel to name a few.

The music is more intimate this time around, and makes for an infinitely more telling description of who Baths is.

As such, not much of the sonic territory meandered upon here is particularly new for the band, but they manage to provide highly satisfying renditions of many of the styles they’ve explored over the years. As such, this latest album feels like a rather comfortable, but nonetheless impressive, addition to the canon.

Real Emotional Trash is a simultaneously funny and interesting record, shaped with just the right kind of meticulous care to strengthen its band-jam aesthetics.

No matter which extreme you believe it to favor, Endgame sees Rise Against as fiery, passionate and motivated as ever, when it comes to their wide-reaching social commentary.

This album is Madeline’s garden, a flourishing melodic/electronic progression from Night Night’s straightforward indie-pop, and a shell-shattering statement of confidence to boot. Kenney has come into full bloom, and Perfect Shapes will forever capture that moment.

A standalone masterpiece. It’s the kind of album capable of captivating a new audience; an evolution from traditional Irish troubadour folk that is both dark and masterful.

This isn’t an album to convert the naysayers, but for the already initiated, prepare yourself to once more sing with your heroes, 33 rounds per minute.

Dream On is missing something, and as long as Boman continues to trudge the path of minimalism (that almost borders on indifference), her music will struggle to differentiate itself from the thousands of other indie-pop/folk songstresses out there who all write and sing about heartache in a similar way.

Overall, it is an exciting era for FKA Twigs fans, as she continues her winning streak.

Make no mistake this is NIN as usual, but [it is] an effortless, inspired, and unaffected Trent Reznor the likes of which we may not have had the pleasure of knowing for almost a decade and a half.

Feed the Animals, despite its tentative start, is chocked full of the same bombastic booty-shaking moments that defined "Night Ripper."

This album is so pure, so deeply felt that cynicism and pre-prepared anti-hype will just slide off it like a light breeze; that even low points like the clunky, ridiculous "returner" - the band's worst song, as if that means a lot for a band who've never made a bad one – barely make a dent. It's the finest work by a band finally mature enough to trust in sound and texture and feeling, and in good time it will outrun any lingering reputation and be crowned as a masterpiece.

Depression Cherry is a startlingly easy record to get lost in.

There are times when the idea of experimentation can become too much to bear.

This is good because Letlive know their strengths here, hooks and Butler, push both ahead to the front, and come out with the best eleven tracks of their career thus far, easily.

This record is very Crystal Castles of them, which is altogether a compliment and a criticism. It’s witch-house pop. You’ll find plenty to enjoy here undoubtedly, but there is still unrealized potential within White Ring’s arsenal waiting to be discovered.

After nearly 15 years of middling releases, Parasomnia is a triumphant return to form – possibly their most creative, focused, and engaging work since Metropolis Pt. 2.

Where he goes from here remains to be seen, but if this is just a first step in his rebellion against the conventions of the rabble of the garage scene, then his next move might be the game changer this was supposed to be.

The Hawk Is Howling is just an ambiguous mixture of the band's past.

Though it never explodes, No One Can Ever Know comes to its unnerving climaxes at just the right points and feels in its own right like a totally cohesive recording of something dark and unforgivable.

It doesn't help that the music in general is so stubbornly tepid. Sure, overall it's a step up from The Black Market, but there's nothing here that gives the hope of Rise Against vaguely recalling what they used to be good at.

Gorgeous melodies are ubiquitous, and seemingly every moment has been carefully crafted with immaculate attention to detail.

Pleasant, often phenomenal. And then afterwards, most of it is gone minus those times when it got real.

It's a shame that the album fails to hit, and in some ways, it's also a shame that it's not terrible, either.

New Moon is simply a more casual affair by The Men, a perfectly passable rock record by a band with the talent to pull that off and without the anxiety that you’ll want to pay attention.

For its new fond feeling and its quick animal stride, t offers something that we can all be swept up in, and all from the moment "Animal Life" gets close.

Similes is, while a pretty record, oddly disjointed, a collection of pretty chord changes without an identity to give it life.

At the end of the day, how one perceives Holy Moly! depends on whether they’re a glass half-empty or half-full type of person. On one hand, sound-wise, this feels like a step towards the right direction. On the other hand, Blues Pills are kinda like the 2005-06 LA Lakers; replace Kobe with Stephen Jackson, or another decent shooting guard, and what you have is a 20-win team instead of a playoff seed. Similarly, replace Elin with another decent vocalist, and chances are that we wouldn’t be talking about Holy Moly! right now.

Aside from its occasional highlights, Crisis of Faith feels haggard, tired and lost: branching in a handful of uninteresting, jarring directions with little apparent rhyme or reason.

If they’ve been treading water for the last ten years, then How to Solve Our Human Problems, Pt. 1 is the sound of them emerging--refreshed, invigorated, and ready to return to the hearts and ears of fans across the world.

In trying for everything, they’ve highlighted the disjointedness of the end product, turning a fully-fledged transformation into an erratic collection of middling-to-great Belle & Sebastian songs.

What makes this effort so different is its ability to transcend those mere qualitative descriptions and transport one’s mind to its most emotionally darkest corners--even if it has to clear away some of the cobwebs that we attempt to veil our pain in.

No track wanders along aimlessly or over stays its welcome, as Salome is a perfectly constructed rock record. At times beautiful while at other times eerie, this is a debut not to be missed.

The Tortured Poets Department is too pulseless to inspire anything at all – and so when Swift does lay down the occasional track with colour in her cheeks, the results tend to tower over the rest of the album regardless of any visible issues they bear. Practically every one of the its greatest highlights is a glaring case-in-point for one or another of its recurrent flaws, yet transcends them through sheer pep and conviction.

War Paint may not be an album of 2011 contender, yet it challenges to be the most lyrically impressive.

A distinct spirit? Always. Forging new ground? Only in the minds of marketing execs.

Trail of Dead sound rejuvenated, ridiculous and ready to rock. From the gloriously corny 80s riff that "No Confidence" rides to greatness to a recurring musical motif that ties all these disparate sounds and several interludes together, paid off perfectly in the moving closer "Calm as the Valley", XI: Bleed Here Now is a complete piece of art.

When the last few tracks roll around, it becomes clear that Tobacco and Aes are sticking with the same formula for the album’s duration. Tobacco will gradually layer more variously-filtered keys, Aes will find something to chant for the chorus, and then some distorted vocals will close the track out. Two albums of this might get tiring, but for 34 minutes, it works perfectly despite the predictability.

This is much more of a traditional rock record than anything else Frank has done, and that’s a good thing because it means that it’s probably the most consistent album he’s made.

For all intents and purposes Clairo’s debut album, Immunity proves to be everything that people who’ve watched her ascent could hope for. She has set the stage to dominate her own slice of the forlorn indie-pop niche, alongside peers like Baker, Heynderickx, and Soccery Mommy.

I’m Going Away finds the band embellishing on their debut, the criminally underrated "Gallowsbird’s Bark," which also found the band at their most melodic.

It may be palatable and generally inoffensive on a whole, but Ghost on Ghost really goes down best when viewed as a supplement to other better, more transcendent material already out there.

ARIZONA BABY is Kevin's most diverse album yet in production, veering from Southern-tinged slappers to euphoric rushes of R&B to more Blond(e)-inspired meanderings, but an emotional vulnerability that follows on from "MARCH" and the like pulls these disparate songs together into something more.

In the end, what you’re left with is a generic rock album with a couple of noteworthy moments and an aftertaste that will probably alienate a few long-time fans of the band.

The dreamy sensation and emotional relevance of Futures is apparent here, and the catchier tracks (especially the designated singles) sound as natural as they ever have, at least since Chase This Light.

There are instrumental bridges on this album that seem, blissfully, to go on forever, leading perfectly into the next song.

She appears to be in the right place creatively, but she just needs to take her own advice and break free.

His performance on The Off-Season will have hip-hop oldheads smiling, nodding, reminiscing on days of old. ... The lack of any poignant through-line either sonically or thematically will have bespectacled journalists shaking their heads and talking about how Kendrick does it better.

Pretty much, Say Anything offers more for fans and opens up the Say Anything sound for new ‘users’ to come and enjoy. It’s the perfect balance of a step forward and a redaction to a more “safe” sound.

Because this album sticks so memorably, so unwaveringly brightly, it's useless to resist it. The only thing to do is love, and so I do.

A non-household album by an oft-overlooked electronic artist/producer, Queen of Golden Dogs is an intriguing, mysteriously intelligent dark horse of a record. Fans of broader electronic/experimental pieces, prepare to be delighted in the delirious lunacy of Vessel’s apex-to-date.

It is the soundtrack to every want and desire, and every wish and memory--but most of all, it is simply beautiful.

Even though Farm may be the album we (should have) expected from Dinosaur Jr., it is still an excellent record that offers a variety of different qualities, while remaining as much fun to listen to as they have ever been.

Not much is worth listening to here; the record's second half saves the abysmal first, yet never approaches the greatness they're capable of.

Overall, Melanie C is just good ol’ fun that does exactly what it says on the tin, and occasionally unearths moments of greatness like “End of Everything” and “Who I Am” which elevate the album into more memorable pastures.

Alopecia stands out as an interesting little album.