It’s obvious that Brett Anderson and Bernard Butler have not lost a bit of the touch that made them famous in the early 1990s.

Quality is a very conflicted album. On one hand, many of the tracks are close to the level mind blowing, production and rhyme wise. On the other hand, some of the tracks are just plain boring and muddy.

That vocal in 'The Kill Tone Two' is unfortunate, because the rest of the album approaches some spectacular peaks.

The album, like most of Vanderslice’s albums, meanders along like a pleasant afternoon: it is all fair weather and blithe breezes, fairly consistent in both tone and tempo.

Musically, he’s ditched the clean, plainly instrumented indie-country schlep of his previous efforts for something brassy, something downright soulful.

Where this release stands out is in overall sound and songwriting.

It’s a little disjointed, more enigmatic, and more confounding than its predecessors: a gentle, mysterious giant of an album that could only have been created by a father.

It's not a perfect record, but it's perfected, about as good as the debut from a band that traffics in this kind of music can be at this point.

Uncovering the strands that make up Black Mountain’s debut album helps describe what the album sounds like. What it doesn’t help describe is how well the pastiche is constructed and how enjoyable the proceedings are.

Kotche delivers on all accounts, tastefully propelling the music into timelessness, nearly filling the shoes of his faves: The Band’s Levon Helm, Beefheart’s Drumbo.

Vernon’s music is stripped-down, uniformly quiet, and confessional, his clipped, cracked, Will Oldham-inspired lyrics not evidence of cabin delirium, but the work of an artist warmed by a creative glow that only pure isolation (read: freedom) can fully render.

With No Flashlight, Elvrum is shifting the focus of his music onto himself. It’s unclear whether this is the smartest move to make, in light of his obvious production mastery.

Finn is a decidedly great lead non-singer, and because of this, he has to rely on brainy, culture-referencing wordage as opposed to impressive melodic style or range. Fortunately, his banter rarely disappoints, even if it is a little repetitive at times.

It doesn’t always succeed, but it most definitely exceeds expectations.

[A] lean, effective debut.

The tenderfooted wandering of the We Are Him’s final third make it less compelling than its flagellating first half but have patience; Gira always gets there.

At times, as with Segundo, it’s tempting to just let Molina pull you under.

BYOP’s debut cascades on itself. Its compulsive, one-sitting punk is delivered with absolute self-conviction.

There’s nothing groundbreaking here, and this record could very well sound sickeningly syrupy come December, but Hal have found a way of reflecting the sun from a time when it wasn’t quite so poisonous.

The Fratellis are beyond infectious.

If you can get past all the arch pretension, When the Deer Wore Blue rewards you with plenty of tunes.

Hera Ma Nono improves on "Ok-Oyot System" in almost every way: the guitar sounds are more vibrant (padded with reverbs, phasers, and other bubbly what-have-you’s); the songs hang together better as a record; the slide between Swahili, English, and Luo is as effortless and colorful as good pidgin; and, most importantly, it usually gets at--or at least hints at--African music’s most cherished balance: unhurriedness with a pulse.

Some of the sonic twists and turns that Delays pull on You See Colours--the multi-tracked vocals, the airy guitars, the pulsing synths--are jaw-dropping.

Underneath the big production, Steele writes some great melodies, and that’s the real reason that his sometimes dubious experimentations pay off.

Even if [some] of it gets a little one-note, it's an addictive note.

The majority of Nastasia’s guitar-and-piano bit parts are full bodied and masterful, overshadowing many big-footed leading ladies’ recent folk releases.

Cryptograms is by no means a flawless record, but taking the time to speak its language, tap into the dueling forces that make it tick, is an intriguing reward.

None of these songs truly sound fully-formed, able and confident, but all of them have their "moments," and some of them do come crashing down like a tidal wave of yearbook memories