Lost Songs is brash and sincere, a caterwauling beast of chunky guitar chords and drums that never give you a chance to breathe, and in its best moments is as fiery and hot-blooded and rousing as anything off of those earlier albums fans are always pining for.

Local Business feels as pressed with adrenaline through its run as the albums before it, but this final indictment of meaningless life is as vitally summative of the album as anything else, a stony acceptance of what's happened and a hundred justifications lacked.

What you find in Transcendental Youth aren't answers to any big questions, but instead questions to a bunch of answers that never meant anything before but now seem exceedingly important.

A passionately resonating, electronic-underscored tour de force that somehow never betrays their true essence.

For the die-hard Four Tet fan who jumps over every release the man has put out, Pink isn't really going to offer much outside of a rather flash piece of packaging that coincidentally happens to store all of his recent tunes in one convenient place. For others though, it's simply going to be another Four Tet release, which is a lot better than a whole lot from everyone else.

The album excels, featuring some of the artist's finest work, despite being mostly retreaded material. Do not let this be a deterrent, though, for there is something here for the devoted members of his "Wolf Pack" as well as his fiercest detractors.

Only in spurts does it ascend to the heights of the band's opening three acts, but it does manage to triumphantly assert itself as a leaps and bounds improvement over Coheed's most recent material.

While decidedly uneven and lacking in the sheer number of hooks a regular dose of Newman provides, Shut Down the Streets does have two of the best songs of his long career.

Converge has become synonymous with consistency, and the band's latest effort proves that after seven albums they still have what it takes to put their listeners through hell in the best kind of way.

They might not be fracking new rocks with their sound, but for those in the know with ears to blow, it's manna from an alternate heaven.

Album Title Goes Here is simply, and honestly, a pointless release, a record designed for two very different crowds, yet lacking the ammunition to even moderately please anyone.

The very elements that made No Doubt popular in the first place have disappeared.

That consistent album we're waiting for still hasn't come just yet.

The defense that it isn't trying, that it's just for kicks, would I guess be admissible if the songs weren't so entirely devoid of substance.

If you despised Sigh No More, then you will find nothing here that even attempts to change your mind. If you found the band's debut to be charming and fun, then Babel is absolutely worth your time and money.

[Moms is] about lamenting family trees and the things that created us worse for wear. Together, Harris and Seim have created a rock album punching the stomach the way their lyrics do.

This unconventional marriage winds up being one that's most conventional, with the traffic of conversation decidedly one way.

Despite some missed opportunities, Violent Waves is exactly the album Circa Survive needed to make.

Come Of Age exceeds the expectations granted by its title and instead shows that the group are already wise beyond their years.

Dense, satisfying, and fun--this deserves to go down as one of the peaks of baroque pop in recent years.

Maybe Today, Maybe Tomorrow is the band's best release to date.

It's a righting of the ship back to the quality control we've come to expect from the Raveonettes but nevertheless still an accomplished retread of a formula, nothing more.

As a whole Negotiations does little to distinguish the individual songs from the album's greater artistic statement.

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.

this is a Mono album through and through, so much in fact that this reviewer felt déja-vu during some of the more lulling parts. Depending on one's feelings towards the band, this will be a key factor in whether or not this is a worthwhile listen.

The thing about Emerald Forest and the Blackbird, though, is that it has no logical direction and no cohesive force, despite its strong and intriguing concept.

Within its 26 minutes lies an amicable amount of intensity, passion, and palpable creativity, portraying a fresh sound that absolutely begs to be heard.

There is not one note out of place; the music remaining tight, aggressive and addictive throughout.

With their eighth studio album, Yellowcard anything but disappoints.

Sun is a rewarding return to a new Cat Power, one who seems more at ease with her music and herself than ever before.

The Seer is everything we could have hoped for--it is Swans, standing proudly and unabashedly at the top of their game after nearly thirty years.

Not even some admittedly slick production can drag this out of the mire.

Devotion does something remarkable in making the universal--love, heartbreak, and yes, devotion--feel specific, simply because Jessie Ware doesn't sound like she's lying.

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.

While it still sounds fresh it's still wearing the same threads, still talking in the same voice and moving in exactly the same way.

[A] thrilling and possibly definitive album, it's impenetrable, multifaceted, and irrepressibly imaginative.

Tapes is hampered by unimaginative mixing and a serious lull in proceedings at the halfway point.

While his lyrics may not make complete sense and can be hypocritical at times, Nas is on top of his game with Life Is Good.

A huge chunk of the record comes across as a potent reminder that even at the height of her powers, Lopez tended to provide second-rate, filler radio pop which was distinctly inferior to what Britney Spears, Christina Aguilera, and even Shakira were pumping out at the time.

It doesn't quite spike with the sharp edges of old, but the passion is in a more intelligent place, and it's a place worth returning to with at least the same frequency as those hospital walls.

With its obtuse rhythm and the inevitably impenetrable lyrics, Om offer their own truth, one with many questions and answers.

In summary, it's a good album and a perfect indication of the progress Tankian has made and will continue to make as a musician.

All in all, TNGHT is a tremendous and kaleidoscopic introduction to a dream production duo that has already turned heads (HudMo has spent the last few months keeping Kanye on point), and it shows that TNGHT has only just begun.

Laborintus II is a strange and unique creation that despite being far from the days of Mr. Bungle and Faith No More, feels completely and totally Mike Patton.

Ten Stories is at ease with its ambiguity and style-shifting.

None of these songs are entitled to be the album's best and none of them work towards anything other than creating the quiet, gloomy album that it is. And yet there's so much of this focus given to each song.

Gossamer is huge, bombastic, and all over the place, spraying synths and outsized choruses like confetti over some deranged future-pop festival.

With Channel Orange Frank Ocean has proven himself as one of the most significant artists in popular music today; his next effort will definitely have the potential to be a genre classic.

The band certainly doesn't sound one hundred percent confident (or even comfortable) moving into more accessible territory, but their fidgetiness results in one of the most intriguing listens of the year.

So good are these songs that you don't realize they're all sort of the same until you've gone through, like, seven of them, and even then it's difficult to fault DIIV for sticking to one sound since they do it so well.

Their experimental ambition and artistic integrity is extremely promising, and with a little more focus, direction, and experience, they could be something special very soon.

What this all boils down to is another solid outing for the group.

It is perhaps the most unforgettable work of her career.

Bloom has continued making Beach House a Thing in indie music, a band that has a feasible future, that won't be just forgotten and left by the wayside. It's nothing to get excited about.

This album just seems too comfortable.

There are still traces of their recent, more mature outings, but those moments are predictably outshined by the ones that harken back to the band's glory days.

The duology of Love Letter and Write Me Back has been his most soulful and inspired work since Chocolate Factory.

The main problem with In Our Heads is its musical anonymity.

There's No Leaving Now is an album that begs to be picked apart, but that can't be picked at.

It ends up being a mixed bag of give and take, but as an assault on all senses it always manages to succeed.

Live From The Underground offers nothing game-changing, but is definitely enjoyable (especially on high energy jams like "Yeah Dats Me"), emulating its influences well.

PiL have created something solid, vicious and with enough value for repeat listens.

Instead of relying upon the old classics, touring the same old stuff, he and SP have forged ahead to create a record that could well be the catalyst of a stellar second era for one of rock's more interesting groups.

Without any quality control or stylistic cohesion, Usher stumbles into his best record since Confessions. If only this was better planned.

Endless Flowers is an album of summer anthems for those who like their beach days mixed in with a good dose of torrential summer downpours.

It's their most accessible record both musically and lyrically.

it sounds like Motion City Soundtrack are warming up for an absolute classic. This isn't it--but it'll serve just fine in the meantime.

They might always struggle to recapture the spark that drove their first two albums, but The National Health might just be what the doctor ordered.

Ohnomite is another solid addition to a growing, consistent discography.

One can't help but feel that Avary's grasp on quality control is waning, with too many of these--admittedly solid and likable--twelve tracks delivering predictable and forgettable results that fail to reach any great heights.

In a world where many acts of a similar age rely on their past, eschewing their original passion and fire for heritage, tradition and tribute, it's comforting to know that Young can both usurp these elements and carry on ploughing his own furrow.

Rumors of punk's demise may be exaggerated, but perhaps someone should tell Almqvist and company that it's long over for them.

There's a depth to these tunes, one that comes not out of fast nights and wrecked relationships but the hindsight and experience of age; it's a well that, thankfully, seems to be getting deeper and deeper.

SMD's latest is an exploration not just in sound, but in concept; it feels like a defining statement, not just for them but for dance music in general.

Completely unaided by flat production and little or no deviation from one or two initial ideas, it's verging on an insult to the memory of one of punk's pioneers.

In the realm of Sigur Rós, it's akin to breathing plain fresh air: in some contexts, refreshing, but in others, just... there.

Celebration Rock is near-perfect in what it sets out to do: making people happy, bringing them together.

While it fails to better its predecessor, Anxiety is a mature, personal and vulnerable release that is both a brave and natural evolution for an undoubtedly talented artist.

Among the Leaves is notable for the bitterness and resignation of Kozelek's lyrics; for the first time, Kozelek's erratic and standoffish personality onstage shines through on record.

Time Team, while displaying shades of true brilliance, is simply an album that doesn't know what it wants to be, and makes the adjustment to compensate for its lack of identity far too late; which is odd, given how well it was doing up until that point.

While it may not have that instant classic feel of Caution, it more than lives up to its older brothers in every way possible.

Ab-Soul performs well in this complementary role and shows how versatile he really is, almost a west-coast amalgam of Brown and Kanye West, yet still a slightly weaker and more inconsistent sum than the parts.

Her best effort yet.

Each of the album's thirteen tracks passes by without any fuss or fight; every song blending into one long blob of grey matter that leaves such little impression in spite of repeated listens.

As with previous efforts, Cancer for Cure pushes the sonic envelope of hip-hop beyond its contemporaries from the very start

Twelve Years might not put Daytrader on quite the same level as recent releases by labelmates Hot Water Music, Cheap Girls, and Sharks but they're well on their way.

The real problem with The Money Store is MC Ride's consistently incoherent mumbling and meme-of-the-day approach to making hooks.

Not only is it essential listening for hip-hop in 2012, but also one of the few records that pushes musical and cultural boundaries in general.

Ufabulum is perhaps not a terrible album in any respect, but at the same time it simply is an incredibly boring one.

Although she is a great poet and lyricist, a little restraint would help in these situations. Seeds is still a great record nonetheless, and shows Muldrow hasn't yet lost focus since Umsindo.

Neck of the Woods marks interesting territory in their development; it both stands its ground and stretches its legs without actually feeling like it's desperate to do either.

Make a point of hearing one of the angriest, most intelligent, and subtly hopeful albums of 2012.

A refreshing yet sweltering collection of acid rave and breakbeat conundrums, all held in check by Lone's perfectionist qualities, but despite the upheaval Lone's latest LP fires on all cylinders only when he chooses to hold onto that which has served him well in the past.

This is an empty record, and the exact opposite of what it means to write classic music, because through all its forced smiles and fake problems, it's an album that means absolutely nothing to me.

It is easy to tell what you are going to get with Monolith of Inhumanity, and the album delivers just what you expect plus a bit more.

Weather Systems should be considered another milestone for Anathema because it is most certainly an improvement on everything they've been working towards, but in all the commotion and attention to the minute details the band may have lost sight of the bigger picture, leaving everything just a bit too sterile and formulaic to truly be considered anything more than excellent.

Much like the Socialist commune they share a part of their name with, BJM retains the mysterious cult image that attracts a few but repels many.