If there's one thing that defines Midnight Boom, it's the new sense of fun that The Kills seem to have discovered.

The album's production is without needless fanfare and benefits from it immensely. It allows the weighty three-piece to shine without trickery.

Aurally consistent, hauntingly introspective, and beautifully self-reflective in its just-over-a-half-hour duration, Don't Wait Up may not rewrite the hardcore how-to book, but it does showcase how to bow out gracefully, with nearly 20 years' worth of respect earned intact.

All We Grow is still a remarkable debut, a perfect companion for these upcoming leafy fall months, and a huge indication of really good things to come.

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.

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.

Civilisation II is the more substantial and overall impressive release of the two, showcasing stronger hooks, more versatile songwriting and a delicious enthusiasm for synth pyrotechnics.

This thing is a beast. If nothing more, We Cater to Cowards has convinced me that I need more of this kind of noisy bullsh*t in my life. After wading through all this thick sludge, at least two showers will be necessary, but I’m in no rush; I’d almost forgotten how much fun it can be to play in the dirt.

Strange Desire is perhaps the fullest-sounding and most charismatic indie-pop album you’ll hear this year, just in time to become the defining sound of your summer.

Minor complaints aside, pound for pound and song for song, Unbreakable may just be the best pop album of the year so far.

The fairly impenetrable wall of sound Nine Inch Nails created here is admirable, especially since everything is presented in just over 21 minutes.

The result isn’t moving, per se, but it is at its best affecting and warm (Reach Out, The Pillar of Souls and Cimmerian Shade exemplify the record at its most beautiful, for my money). ... Interestingly, the duo save their best - and their most experimental - until the final two tracks.

Each time you listen to it, you feel like you’re gaining a little piece of rare knowledge from the singer’s weathered and experienced life. It’s hard to fault an album that makes you feel such a connection, and Byrne’s latest does just that.

In short, Long.Live.A$AP takes what made his debut new or exciting and more finely hones it.

They’re darn right they still belong, since Lostprophets have delivered an excellent album that is a reminder to all and sundry that this is a band with not only a storied past, but also a very bright future.

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.

If their self-titled LP represented a slight dip in the usual quality of this band, Cold of Ages represents a trip both back and forward--back to their earlier days in terms of material and the quality of the compositions, but forward in terms of recording quality, evolutionary potential, and available elements at their disposal.

The album as a whole makes for an unnerving, yet oddly rewarding experience which needs to be undergone by every fan of eclectic metal.

It is a hodgepodge of stupid ideas that one will either find brilliant or, well, stupid. However, it is hard to deny that it is a pop album of massive ambition and yet, suffers from none of the pretentiousness that plagues most of the Killers contemporaries in that aspect.

Sleigh Bells have crafted something entirely unique and that in itself is commendable, and the fact that they've done it with such a bold sound is all the more praiseworthy (or even surprising).

And through the tragedy, what remains, this testament, is a spiraling exercise in gorgeous music, a record knee deep in that subtle legend, but ankle up a collection of tunes as haunting and surreal as the personas and events that surrounded it.

On SOUR she was a budding superstar; on GUTS, her sound has fully bloomed.

If 03.15.20 is a full stop to one of the most dynamic, inventive, frustratingly inconsistent discographies of the last decade. I'm not convinced Glover's multi-hyphenate brain could ever stop working away, creating shows and songs and short films and botching album rollouts to a ridiculous degree.

As of right now though, Evil Urges is on the top of the heap for 2008.

This is a beautiful, cohesive album that stirs so many emotions and speaks for itself. It might not be as immediate or as catchy as ADD, but does the most important thing: paving new grounds.

While lacking the immediate and defining qualities of their previous releases, the album still manages to outclass its peers in almost every regard.

Swift still prefers to write about her own broken love stories, the production is still a glossy pop-rock with only the faintest of country tinge to harken back to her roots, and Swift herself is still as dead-to-rights honest as she's always been.

Mieke has undoubtedly struck gold with her sophomore album, notching a significant improvement from her already-respectable debut.

Although Every Country’s Sun isn’t a flawless album (there are a number of tracks in the middle section that need more time to kick in), it shows us Mogwai nowhere near losing their touch.

What a pleasure to have a songwriter and singer of this calibre making albums like this, with seemingly limitless texture to dig into and infinite potential meaning for every listener. Just so long as they give it the time.

Back with a bang so refined it’s positively deafening, BLUE LIPS is an intriguing, befuddling, unique collection of songs that signals the start of a new era for ScHoolboy Q: the man who survived the CrasH.

Music that is this desolate and isolated is rarely as rewarding as Little Joy which is what makes it one of the most successful records of the year.

While Angles lacks a definite image, it is the band's best purely musical statement, and as the band members explore their 30s, perhaps it is time for them to retire their young, aggressive punk image and become successes in the first sense of the word -- strictly musical.

After a series of good-to-great efforts, the self-titled manages to present a much more unified mood than its predecessors and additionally cuts out the spoken word moments which (in my opinion) greatly detracted from previous albums. Here, it all comes together.

LP3 is a house built brick by brick with patient songwriting--lush arrangements that blossom over a lengthy period of time, cultivating in fully fleshed out songs. Where’s LP1’s charm largely came from its high energy and juvenile tone, LP3 is the labor of seasoned musicians.

Shimmering psychedelic post-punk to get lost into.

Fade is not an exciting record on its face, but finds itself in the emotional peaks that surface hazily here and there, through colorful production and exquisite songwriting.

This is yet another strong release from a veteran crew whose mature-era output puts the vast majority of bands of their tenure to shame. Additionally, as a relatively trim outing and with its inherent jamminess (that’s a word), Ancient Astronauts can serve well as a solid first experience for Motorpsycho novices.

PP&DS is self-indulgent, silly, messy and heartfelt. It's Cudi at top songwriting form, and the songs on it are arguably the best he's ever written.

It is an incredibly unique performance that builds upon the collective legacy of its members not by pushing them to their extremes, but by uniting them back to a rooted sonic aesthetic that all too often gets buried when they are apart.

Faith takes every single ounce of her experiences and infuses them into her music. It results in one hell of a theatrical roller-coaster ride that holds attention from beginning to end.

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.

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.

It successfully adds another wrinkle to her sound with the addition of sweeping string sections, majestic brass horns, and epic flourishes. It also can’t be overstated just how brilliant this album’s pinnacles are, with ‘Becoming All Alone Again’, ‘Up the Mountain’, and ‘Spacetime Fairytale’ standing out as particularly dazzling career highlights.

The album clatters out of focus in a pleasing fashion.

Far from a unified artistic statement, Other Truths refuses to pin itself down, and marks itself simply and modestly as a showcase of some of the best talent in genre. A minor miracle, if you will.

Quite simply, Mechanize corrects all of the band’s past missteps including those made prior to Dino’s departure. It is a collection of everything that made them great without any of the extraneous influences that came later.

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.

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

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.

Overall, Our Raw Heart is a truly encompassing journey that requires multiple listens to unfold itself (much like any YOB album). There’s anger, frustration and melancholy to be found, still, at the end you’re left with a sense of relief.

Black Noise is something worth delving into. It is something intensely personal and emotionally gray, but it’s also grounded, accessible enough to welcome you inside.

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

Expo 86 proves that Krug and Boeckner still can do what's always been most important, namely writing songs that still kick *** at every available opportunity.

It's easy to imagine a superior album being made from sequencing it with the best of its predecessor. But there's a simple, unassuming quality that would be lost if you did.

Alongside "With Oden on Our Side," Twilight of the Thunder God just might be the strongest record Amon Amarth has written thus far.

The massive hooks and catchy choruses that the band has forever been associated with also return, providing Lowborn with some of the group’s most memorable tracks.

Hearing Taylor Swift sing makes you remember these things, how you can wax poetic one day about the efficacy of love to change lives permanently for the better, and the next rail about how love leads only to pain and heartache.

At just over thirty-five minutes, the length of the album works to its advantage too, not overstaying its welcome as well as solidifying the fact that there's nothing exceptionally challenging about In Evening Air.

Off-kilter rhythms and dark thundercloud choirs may occasionally spell doom, and the incessant shrieking of the newborn in the next room may keep you up all night, but the album’s captivating parlor trick is its ability to stand confidently in fire and brimstone and smile through the rupturing of its eardrums.

It is a legitimately excellent record that lives up to (and sometimes even exceeds) the song writing standards set by the band on "Dirt" or "Jar of Flies."

They sound and act unlike many of their contemporaries, and seem preoccupied with carefully carving out a unique space in the modern indie scene to inhabit. It’s a fun space, regardless of how you may get there - and I’m glad to be here.

Freed from the obligations a full album would have entailed, Wu-Tang are free to make their best music in over ten years.

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

Wooden Shjips succeed in making their material as easy listening and cool as possible, and tread on the trails of acclaimed artists such as Tom Petty.

It will be bettered, as surely as night follows day, but there might not be another album released in the next 12 months that offers the same delirious, sugar-coated enjoyment, let alone one that matches it with Kapranos' casually whip-smart lyrics.

Hello Exile is full of idealized versions of Menzingers songs, a little slower than usual but still containing all the sonic and lyrical hallmarks that we’ve come to expect.

'Videotape' closes off the album peacefully, like a peck kiss goodbye, and it fittingly finishes the sparse emptiness of the record. However, the entire album lacks a climax.

The record isn’t immediately absurd, but rather keeps its composure and subtly turns convention on its head with a smile.

It’s the sound of musicians that know exactly what they want to be.

This is an album you can connect your own hopelessness with. It's weirdly relatable, this album, with not really its lyrical content but its various moods.

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.

Overall, the journey Everything Was Beautiful creates is definitely more entrancing and vivid than And Nothing Hurt.

Variables is not only much more ambitious than its predecessor (sorry Bring Backs), but also the most forward-thinking album Alfa Mist has put to wax thus far, and an experience far more suited to ruminative cigarettes by candlelight than vape-assisted marathon study sessions.

The placement of certain tracks on Microcastle are an obvious glaring weakness, but one cannot take away the pure execution and quality of the songs.

In self-reflection, Hopkins deconstructs Singularity; for all its avenues, detours, desperate reaches and anxious retreats, true inner peace rests on a foundation of simplicity. A modest concept, often taken for granted.

It feels strange yet familiar, rather comforting and welcoming while also showing the artist being peacefully exalted about it. Some will need a tunneling machine to get to them, and some other will do with a spoon, but there's treasure to be found in the heart of Fossora, and if willpower is not enough to help you find them, mushrooms will surely help.

One certainly shouldn’t turn to Weather Alive when looking to jam out hard, but for a cohesive batch of wistful mood pieces, look no further.

it’s an excellent change of pace for the band, and proves that they can indeed write spacey, esoteric mid-tempo songs instead of...well...spacey, esoteric breakneck songs.

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.

Each of Hecker's layers are shards, something incomplete, but with just enough shards, a fragmented, disturbed image is formed, and that is the result of Ravedeath, 1972.

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.

Fans of the band’s earlier albums should enjoy it, while those pesky unbelievers may even be converted as well.

The Golden Medallion will “click” better for those that can find bits of themselves between the lines, but Fight Like Apes have crafted a fine pop album in their own right.

The overarching weakness seems to be that, while this is a set of songs being performed by talented musicians clearly having the time of their lives, it often feels like nothing more, simply a (great) set of songs rather than a coherent album statement. The previous paragraph’s fleeting criticism is just that, though: fleeting. The Record, when compared to Boygenius, inevitably comes out much ahead, reflecting the singer-songwriters’ substantial growth as musicians in the intervening half-decade.

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

This is not the first time the band has wiped the slate clean, but they’ve never sounded as focused or purposeful as they do right here and now. Tidal Wave may sound like a transition, but it feels like a resounding statement.

When You See Yourself is a welcoming return to form for Kings of Leon. It’s a nostalgia sucker punch for those in the right time, in the right place. It's an album that their fanbase will revel in.

Duffy is a major talent, and Rockferry is little short of outstanding.

Little of the album ever actually dips in quality (“Don’t Call Tonight” is the only real leftover nacho), the confusing aesthetics of the album cover and the decision to tack “Die With a Smile” on here do go a long way to making this package feel a tad disjointed and lacking a bow. Still, the aesthetic failings are only a disappointment because the contents are so dang good.

This album has the feel of a “for us” record, one that rewards the band for making it and decides that it’s okay to create something deeply personal and a little self-indulgent.

It's consistently great stuff--this is among the best hip-hop albums of the year by my reckoning.

It's an album you appreciate not because you have to, but because you want to.

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

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.

Flowers at the Scene features influences from various decades of pop, classic/art rock, jazz and successfully experiments to offer an eclectic and rewarding collection of stand-alone tracks.

In refining the band's sound and style so effectively, The Fire is ultimately a resounding success which meets its objectives.

I Am Very Far is certainly a more enthralling listen than The Stand Ins was; though it may lack some of the emotional impact of Down the River of Golden Dreams, or especially Black Sheep Boy, the album remains a welcomed addition into the work of a band who commands great quality-control.