Eclecticism like this can be a drag when it’s forced or disingenuous, but Friendly Fires’ enthusiasm is disarming.

The tunes are repetitive in the vein of Oakey's earliest industrial post-punk '70s rants, but with the angry friction of those heady times cooled off, like a trip to the corner after a heated outburst. And if the album doesn't quite attain the life-altering awesomeness of Dare--well, what album does, really?

Ellison excels everywhere else, keeping the beats brisk and the instrumentation organic and lively.

These New Puritans maintain a sense of prim composure that may appeal to listeners who prefer their dread to be more precise, less anarchic.

Musically, the septet are as colorful as ever, only more resonant and with fewer xylophones--plus a newfound emphasis on rhythmic muscle.

Because Seger has honed his craft to such a silver-bullet point, the album never feels like a retread; as on John Fogerty’s underrated Deja Vu All Over Again from 2004, roots-rock tradition seems renewed in Seger’s hands.

Although driven primarily by Meluch’s intrepid acoustic guitar, Temper is a many-layered affair, an engaging concoction of delicate electronics, birdsongs, and tape experiments that resonate with impossible harmony.

It's a grower--don't go in without some time to invest, or the desire to listen multiple times and peel apart these lavishly constructed layers.

Khan might be getting bolder, bigger, and more experimental, but pushing past what everyone expects or wants from you as an artist sometimes works - even the third time around.

There’s something oddly accessible about the mess the duo make on Why Bother?

You’re unlikely to encounter another pioneering techno-pop act entering its third decade with style and substance largely intact.

The title cut is the best of the lot, an anthem about the beautiful chaos of family life where wine is sipped from a jelly jar and “peanut butter is everywhere.”

Ejstes seems more concerned with texture and feel than with hooks. Translation: it all sounds better once you’re stoned.

Gutter Tactics recalls the anger of the recent past and memories we'd like to leave behind--perfect timing.

In 'Your Big Hands,' she and her pals work up a rowdy roadhouse groove worthy of Car Wheels–era Lucinda Williams. And 'Mexico City' has ringing ’60s-pop guitar twinkles that give her melancholy travelogue a welcome splash of whimsy.

On Smoke, his blog-buzzed debut, he offers a tuneful, mellow bedroom pastiche of trebly early-’80s punk funk, spirited, rhythm-rich worldbeat, and post-Beck white-guy R&B.

'(Keep Eye On) Others' Gain' and the title track sound similarly hopeful. The gloom is still there on 'You Remind Me of Something' and 'Willow Trees Bend,' but it feels less crushing. There is also more variety to the sonic textures.

Down There harnesses the core duality upon which the AC empire is built: a warm and pure pop æsthetic folded harmoniously into layers of murky swirls and drips.

On the whole, King Animal is a welcome return, and though it doesn't reinvent the wheel, it reminds us why these guys were considered the architects of the Seattle scene.

For evidence as to why labeling subgenres of electronic music is tedious, look no further than this debut LP from UK collective Darkstar.

So if Thr33 Ringz fails to shock, consider also that it fails to disappoint.

Texas Rose is moody and layered, and Raposa is adept at creating a world that is deep, enveloping, and enticing.

Romance Is Boring doesn't eschew the sugar-high, too-clever angst of its predecessors altogether, but the band have learned how to vary their song structures, often opting for a darker, more atmospheric aesthetic.

It’s this willingness to experiment with sounds and percussion that distinguishes Psapp from their electro-organic brethren.

The finished product is a cobbled-together dazzle that contorts your mouth into a 50-minute succession of grins and wows.

It's infectious, and though the album is heavy in inspirational debt, Passive's highs are tantalizing enough to lure you to come for a bright-eyed joyride.

What separates Reed from his would-be contemporaries is just how much Come and Get It! is not a pop-crossover record -- a point that is the album's strength, as well as its potential weakness.

At first, the minimalist, glitchy grooves sound like a lot of the neo-electro trend these days. But Mason’s off-kilter lyrics and psychedelic sense of melody soon overpower the thrift-store Gary Numan and Depeche pastiches and the trite S&M vibe.