"Unbroken" is her best effort yet. Ignoring the first 4 songs, it's a great album, filled with songs that have meaning.

Take Care is equal parts dick-waving egoism, emotional wreckage, and mature understanding.

A great success on every level; this is their best album since The Earth Is Not a Cold Dead Place.

In some ways the album works better as a slightly blemished and broken piece, because like its protagonist it exits quietly while still leaving so much to say, and it's those pieces of work that weeks later are still being debated over that stand the true test of time.

It all combines to create a very particular aesthetic, perfect for late night drives or dank smoke sessions, and the album doesn't have any higher ambitions than perfectly fitting these particular situations.

The great thing about Red is that Dia had a hand in writing every song, and it's that personal stamp that allows the album to appeal to longtime fans despite its musical direction.

Be it the furious pounding bass of the dubstep angle she toys with, or the amorphous dark ambient she seems to wallow in, whatever led you to Emika's debut LP will also leave you breathless.

A very, very impressive album all around.

What Relentless Reckless Forever boils down to is a pair of decent, if not good, songs at the beginning, several painfully average songs in the middle, and a mish-mash of mediocrity at the end.

Can was light years ahead of their time, and the ideas they present in Tago Mago and sequential albums are still incomprehensible even in today's eclectic and varied music scene.

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

The Path Of Totality is an album that doesn't work because it tries to be something it's not; no, it fails because of not just its terrible premise but its truly dreadful execution.

Once again, Kate's found a new sound world to operate in and made an effortlessly great album that works both as a conceptually cohesive whole and as a set of standlone songs as warm and comforting as a roaring fire.

Despite its hyperactive tendencies and its scale there hasn't been another record released this year as gorgeous and completely owned by a band as Everything.

Down and dirty, it grooves by on soulful power chords and Carney's relentless hammering of his kit.

They sound like they'll probably end up being one of the most enduring bands of our era.

777 - The Desanctication leaves the band treading water, unable to escape onto dry, firm land... This leaves Blut Aus Nord in a funny situation: they are 2/3 of the way through a trilogy that has no character other than its egg-shell atmosphere – thin and prone to cracking with no solid musical base underneath to resist and hold the shell in place.

Their anti-rave anthems have simply improved beyond what anyone could have possibly hoped for, and Sepalcure is set to turn a lot of heads, in and outside of its constantly argued over genre.

The [line-up] present on Ersatz G.B. were also present for 2008's Imperial Wax Solvent and 2010's Your Future, Our Clutter, records that showed enough touches of class, craft and ingenuity to reassure The Fall's notoriously hardcore following that the future was surprisingly rosy.

Integrity to the fans, the fun tongue-in-cheek of the album and the no-*** rock n roll makes Here and Now a standout record for 2011, and may even win Nickelback some new fans.

The result is a record that's immediately familiar yet inventive, funky, fun, and always impressive.

It is meant to be fun, catchy, sexy, and danceable, and while it isn't groundbreaking by any means, it succeeds in reaching all of its goals.

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

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.

It has all the enjoyable little quirks of New Found Glory's earliest material, and most of the songs have the potential to stay lodged in your brain for days.

It's tempting to label it as "primitive", what with that understatedly ominous cover art, but that undersells the album's strange immediacy, the way that these tracks feel absolutely familiar in spite of their grave otherworldliness.

Dive is the kind of high quality release one expects from Hansen.

Because beauty comes thick and fast with this album, and even though it's taken wholesale from more popular sources, here it feels like we're only now hearing it for the first time.

Martin's newest record is a successfully didactic and direct body of work.

They are an emotionally rich dialogue that is so easy to relate to, it's hard not to get lost in his sentiments.

Parallax, unrealised masterpiece or not, sounds like the man in his bedroom with a thousand songs to leave unexplained.

Ceremonials is truly one of the few recent pop LPs that works both as a collection of individual songs and as a true album, with the right balance and flow to keep the record captivating from start to finish.

The Vision is a true mixed bag that while offering up a few outstanding gems, disappoints more than it probably should and reveals its maker as far less of a visionary as we all assumed him to be.

Lyrical content aside, Thirteen sees Megadeth do very little wrong.

Sure, Blitzen Trapper attempt to vary the formula a bit--there's the jangly campfire number, or that one about astronauts--but when it comes right down to it, everything's all the same.

Metals, in its muted, gray imperfection, feels vital--even when it isn't.

Long Live the King serves as a supplemental EP worthy of a glance from the casual listener, and most certainly from every fan.

So while Stronger has its redeeming moments, they mostly come when Clarkson does what she is renowned for doing and has already done better. It is a little too heavy on the balladry and serious tones, which are the same things that doomed her other two slightly lesser received albums.

Their debut LP does succeed, however, in meeting the expectations of their target demographic; delivering a consistent batch of ten catchy tracks that waste very little time getting to their contagious choruses.

Any message contained within Lulu is lost in the whirl of discordant guitar work, Reed's mutterings and the complete sense of abject disappointment that surrounds the entire album.

Audio, Video, Disco has neither creativity nor moxie, except in the sense that Justice is damn determined to give homage to the worst excesses of macho rock posturing.

Noel has crafted one of those rare gems in an LP where every track is a potential single.

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.

The unfortunate harm that has come with Portnoy's dismissal is that the drum sections are now entirely bland and lack any real power. This combined with the band's decision to include three ballads are really the only things wrong with A Dramatic Turn of Events.

Night of Hunters feels refreshing, unique, and utterly lovely; it's another great success in a career that has quite a few of them.

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

From the ashes of Volta, an album that occasionally felt like a career-killer, has come an album of startling beauty, furious invention, and inviting, warm atmosphere.

As it stands, we have Neighborhoods, large and vapid, every bit an inconsistent mess as it is a guilty pleasure.

Their unique perspectives on racial and class identities are perspectives that hip-hop needs to remain vital, to remain that genre that united so many other groups throughout the genre's dominating decades. And the best part is that they fulfill that role while still joking.

Yes, it is undoubtedly inferior to its predecessor, but it instantly delivers an enjoyable crowd-pleasing package.

Youth Lagoon's debut consistently delivers on the suggestion of its appellation: youth.

Overall the album is a strong crowd pleaser so to say, though most of the album has to work a bit to get out of the long shadow of the major anthems hitting you early on in the first fourth of the track list.

Wilco have had their peaks and valleys, but they have never sounded as confident as they do on The Whole Love.

The Hunter is the album that shows that as long as Mastodon stay true to their selves, they have the creative wherewithal to not only endure but keep themselves in the spotlight for years and years to come.

Elsie is nostalgic, contemplative, and persistent; it's also one of 2011's best.

For a band that once never failed to make an impression, be it positive or nauseating, the fact that the best Hysterical can muster is indifference is simply disappointing.

Major/Minor is just another testament to Thrice's ability to do no wrong.

There is really nothing bad about what Opeth have presented us here, but after ten full lengths they're starting to develop a moderate case of Dream Theater syndrome, although obviously less self-indulgent.

So while Velociraptor! takes us to a few different destinations than we may have expected, it is ultimately going to elicit the same divisive response which its three predecessors did.

Just as the Arctic Monkeys do not belong in the American desert, Hard-Fi has little to no place at a London rave. It is such a waste really, since the catchy songwriting nous that still makes Killer Sounds bearable, is also why it is such a disappointment.

These moments of stepping outside of the indie pop comfort zone are what give Mountaintops a bit of zest, but it's also what makes the album less than a stellar affair.

Even if Strange Mercy is like a blender with its top blown off, it's undeniable how convincing St. Vincent has become.

While I may appreciate this album despite some of its fundamental flaws, I'm still not exactly clamoring for another Chili Peppers record. As stated before, I'm With You doesn't suggest a future for the band: instead, it showcases one stuck in the mud, capable of churning its wheels but not moving forward.

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

These are the blunders we have come to expect from Wayne, but we expect to be compensated for our time with some classic tracks, and on Carter IV, there are none.

Listening to something like Thursday is the ultimate form of escapism that so many of us flock to music for. That's a quality that should be celebrated, not criticized for its lack of immediate pleasure.

It's hard to mess up a good thing too badly and there are certainly enjoyable moments on The Green Album.

If Primary Colours still left any doubt, Skying makes it certain that The Horrors have moved on from the shadow of the (unfortunate) title of being NME darlings and into a realm where their future releases become something to mark on the calendar.

Though it may not capture our hearts as instantly as the ideas of nostalgia and romance, The Rip Tide ushers in different dimensions of emotion and that is a progression to be admired.

We're left with a mess of an album that sounds too good to hate.

While I can't rate this as highly as I hoped I'd be able to, a song like "Felt Just Like Vacation" seems like what this band is and has always been, different though it is.

With cliches becoming scarcer, there is clearly lyrical growth evident, yet one could hardly call them ground-breaking or especially relatable.

Slave Ambient is the work of a band making us listen for every piece of them.

Perhaps Sky Full of Holes will be that album to some impressionable youth whose idea of power pop revolves around Justin Bieber ballads, but for longtime fans it just sounds tired and dusty. Fountains of Wayne are still doing what they've always done, but I think I've finally grown up.

Sure, the album is a commendable attempt at maturity which suggests that the five-piece are unlikely to take their careers for granted. Unfortunately, Everything's Fine is another example of a band attempting to grow up far too fast, and coming unstuck because of it.

Its hidden nuances become more apparent with each listen, and it's this replay value that is Fair to Midland's greatest strength.

There's nothing wrong with writing four-minute protest songs that relish in the best of their psychedelic influences, but it'll be when Portugal. The Man really unshackle themselves and start writing what they do best that they will establish themselves as a band on par with their forebears.

Fly From Here attempts to offer, amongst all this, an image of Yes that isn't hampered by the past, with five tracks smuggled onto the end of the record but having no narrative relation to the 'epic' that sells it.

In keeping with Givers' multi-dimensional aural assault, it only makes sense that vocals would also come from multiple sources. While drummer Kirby Campbell occasionally lends a hand, it is predominantly Guarisco and Lamson who brilliantly deliver the boy/girl dynamic on show here.

Basically, fans of In Flames' last four albums are sure to find plenty to enjoy on Sounds of Playground Fading as it is easily better than a lot of what they've done recently, but it could have been so much more if the vocals could be anything more than adequate.

Black Up is at first mind-bending and perhaps confusing in its production and aesthetic, making it easy to lump in with fringe rap artists cLOUDDEAD. But to do so ignores the visceral qualities of the album, both in Butler's lyrics and in the production.

It straddles that difficult line between accessible and adventurous, making for a fine stopgap between Fiery Furnaces records and an excellent summer album regardless of the year.

Whatever they ought to be doing is lost in mess of lame ideas buoyed by big hooks and pop flourishes.

With Leveler August Burns Red have reached the limitations of the metalcore rule book that they have been glued to ever since their debut.

If this is what we're going to be getting from Boeckner and company, perhaps Wolf Parade can stand to take a break for as many years as it needs to.

Whatever's On Your Mind fails to leave much of a lasting impression aside from the hooks and the impressive way the band can make a straightforward pop tune sonically adventurous.

The more muscular sound apparent second time around assists the much-discussed lasting value of the sextet, making this album as much of a grower as it is immediate.

So sigh with me; for all the promise their reunion had, they sound as if they're remembering how to work together, painting their album by numbers rather than taking risks or adding artistic flourishes of their own.

Despite being Simple Plan's poppiest release yet, it is also their least catchy, indistinct and forgettable.

Go Now and Live is by no means a bad album, since it is a solidly composed, straight-ahead rock release with some satisfyingly driving rhythms. The experience may even assist the growth of this talented band, rather than hamper it. Too often though, the songwriting feels incomplete.

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.

If you've heard the albums it's drawing its material from, you've already got all of those secrets figured out. Ultimately, that renders this album as a novelty of sorts, a release that should only have a footnote in the story of her career rather than its own chapter.

For all of her posturing and ruminations on life, love and other such considerations, you may well ask yourself whether she is merely playing a part and recycling old themes or if she has the experience she so eloquently sings about.

Arch Enemy seem content with resting on their laurels, and while that may please the kind of fans who are upset that In Flames haven't be repackaging Whoracle for the past ten years, it ultimately lacks substance.

Listening to the joyous simplicity inherent in the album's mood, you get the feeling that love, for all its pitfalls, really is the simplest thing in the world to feel; you need only to be inside your house, the city without, the falcons overhead, the days stretching off into the future, and listen.

Where its cool and dynamic at first, by the time the albums over you get the sense that there was too much, too quickly, and something was certainly lost. While it may break away from the hardcore realm, giving these songs more room to grow and expand would have greatly increased the replayability of Parting the Sea beyond the first listen or two.

Until Gibbard can harness this newfound happiness with the kind of lyrical flair his fans are used to, Death Cab remain in danger of being, well, just another indie band.

There is a sweet strand of diversity, subtle or otherwise, permeating the record and points towards the coming together of comfort and talent.