Don't expect anything in terms of experimentation--this makes stellar mixtape fodder for an indie-pop prom night also scored by Dum Dum Girls and the Morning Benders.

Here Mega Dave isn't even that annoying. Perhaps it's because the music is so strong, or maybe it's that he's giving exactly what you expect and doesn't try to be anything else.

On his third Iron & Wine full-length, he goes for his biggest sound yet, but the production is mere window dressing for some of his best songwriting.

But the kicker, for both music and lyrics, is Xiu Xiu's version of a pep talk, "This Too Shall Pass Away," where Stewart shows that being the most tortured musician of all time makes his fleeting flecks of hope doubly heartfelt.

At times, the free-association gets to be a bit much, but it's all held afloat by trampoline beats from a stud cast that includes the likes of Diplo and El-P, all channeling Magoo-era Timbaland, Kelis-era Neptunes, and Hov-era Panjabi MC.

Their wail-and-bash raison d'etre continues to bring more intense, absurd listening pleasure than any other noise band on the planet.

Rook is flush with the hallmarks of Shearwater’s style, from high-wire drama to near-hymnal stillness. Although its songs aren’t as uniformly good as those on 2006’s "Palo Santo."

The beats are eminently funky, the rhymes tight, and the topics decidedly old-school: plain-spoken boasts, the rejection of greed, and an acknowledgment of our communal evolution indicate the overall tone.

That patented caterwaul is in fine form.

There aren't many punk stalwarts who can weave a tale of being down and out quite like Mike Ness, and for the most part he's in top form on this seventh studio release from Social D.

A merger made in musical heaven.

Luckily for fans of music and controversy alike, Madonna's compulsions reap musical dividends as she continues to bang into a dance-tastic G-spot, and the results are part sour, part sweet.

Loose, loud, and fun.

In This Moment are up to some weird, wild, wonderful stuff.

One must reconcile with the absurd fact that Lulu exists before realizing how genuinely brilliant it is--when it's working.

Their signature '80s homage is consistent across their songwriting, lyrics, album covers, and design - even their videos. And despite their claims to the contrary, the duo have enough self-aware irony to rise above the level of a throwback novelty act or a one-trick nostalgia pony.

Their stuttering, airy synths would serve as an appropriate soundtrack to a nightclub in Heaven.

There’s some exceptional songwriting here.

Although it packs 20 songs into nearly 70 minutes, Field Music (Measure) feels remarkably concise and well-plotted — a series of harmony-rich guitar-pop ditties and resonant motifs that are covertly part of a larger package.

Sonically, it's jaw-dropping, particularly on headphones: every cymbal splash and synth squiggle purr up-close and personal. But most of these 10 tracks are so subtle, they might drift past unnoticed if you're not listening hard enough.

Past Time was mostly content to present Grass Widow's aesthetic--cooing, ethereal gang vocals, sinewy guitars, a general state of breeziness--as opposed to Internal Logic, where those things are part of far more memorable songs.

See The Light has an airy feel that is more suited not only to actual dancefloor dancing (rather than the thump-until-blackout oblivion of most current electro) but to the gentle torch-song pull of Ruiz's emotive bleat.

On their debut, the young Beach Fossils separate themselves from the rest of the pack by coloring the ubiquitous surf-pop sound with a listlessness that makes them seem like weary veterans.

The result bounces all over the place, from zippy new-wave rave-ups to tinkly twee-pop lullabies to handsome folk-rock jams with trippy guitar sounds.

Anyone up to date on the current dance-punk scene would have little trouble taking most of these 11 songs as outtakes from recent albums by such higher-profile acts as Soulwax, LCD Soundsystem, and Simian Mobile Disco.

Songwriter Stuart Murdoch often makes good on Morrissey's promise to deliver songs that live up to their titles.

This latest entry in the old-icon-meets-young-iconoclast trend is lit up by the sparks between the principals.

The disparate riff-based writing can be too heavy on cue cards and too light on connecting the ideas, but it's that same friction that makes the band worth listening to.