Guilty of Everything is the sort of first album that takes itself too seriously in the most endearing way--it's something that must be purged before a band can move on.

It may not be groundbreaking or shocking, but it’s quite a good record nonetheless.

With albums as comfortable and likable as Twin Forks, there’s simply no reason to mourn Carrabba’s decision to give this new band his full focus for the time being.

Like its predecessor Indestructible Machine, the album belies her age and finds the singer churning out songs that are wise beyond her years.

Unfortunately, there are quite a few pitfalls outside of just weak hooks. The pacing of the album feels a little off, and it starts pretty early on with "Los Awesome" being a jarring change from the opener "Gangsta," though the former is much more enjoyable than the latter.

Wether or not Little Red is better than On A Mission is up for debate; the former is a much more consistent and even listen, but the latter features much higher highs and lower lows.

This is as good as any album post-punk/garage rock has produced in quite some time.

Morning Phase actually matches Sea Change in melodic beauty, and it might even surpass it in production quality, but the cryptic, repetitious lyrics of songs like “Blackbird Chain” and “Heart is a Drum” fall so far short of the devastating heartbreak that Beck wove on songs like “Guess I’m Doing Fine” and “Lost Cause” that it’s impossible to see this record ever achieving the classic status of its predecessor.

Cult unleashes some of the band's tastiest riffs and strongest songs yet while broadening Bayside's musical palate.

Ostensibly an album about finding hope and navigating through the pathways of solace, Augustines is a shimmering, first-rate slice of pensive and passionate indie-rock.

Nothin’ but Blood, the latest album from crass cowboy Scott H. Biram is a lopsided effort with some of the best songs Biram has ever written and some of the absolute worst.

For a band as talked about as they are, Voices needed to be a lot better. For now, it’s just okay.

If you want a refreshing, imaginative, heartfelt record which manages to be fun and emotional at once, So Long, See You Tomorrow provides everything you could want. Bombay Bicycle Club are the best at what they do.

The album represents a triumph for Have a Nice Life after six years of mostly silence, and is a more-than-worthy follow-up to Deathconsciousness.

Temples are a promising band that definitely has a great record--or perhaps several--in them, but this one isn’t quite it. It certainly does make for a colorful and fun listen though, so just unplug and enjoy the ride.

Kozelek’s rich, detailed lyrics here are revelatory, and the way he delivers them, in his sad, low, heartrending baritone, is nothing short of entrancing.

Echoing themes that bubble beneath the surface of all his work both with TSMZ and Godspeed, Menuck spins vitriol and tenderness, desperation and hope into a narrative that is both vivid and somewhat frightening.

Overall Wig Out at Jagbags isn't exactly a disappointing release, especially since it's far better than the breed of record many other artists multiple decades into their respective careers make. It is a frustrating one though.

Whereas Sinners... felt transitional, Cavalier Youth feels thorough; these tracks are freshly waxed and radio-ready.

Metropole is very close to being a masterpiece, falling just short of their own standard set by The Greatest Story Ever Told.

Sophomore albums always find bands trying too hard, struggling to live up to their magnum opus and Mind Over Matter has all the hallmarks of exactly that.

Transgender Dysphoria Blues has an universal appeal that will resonate with anyone.

If the whole record were as explosive as these final two songs, it might have been Switchfoot’s best. As is, Fading West feels like a somewhat minor release from a band that has never lacked for dependability.

These guys have created a pop-punk album that isn't timeless, but that's not the point. Wishful Thinking, by design, tells the story of a point in time, one that only has meaning because it won't last.

For a stopgap release that no one expected, assembled from outtakes, B-sides, and covers that all but the most ardent Bruce followers would call inessential, High Hopes is still a remarkably cohesive and consistent record, and serves as a wonderful way to kick off 2014.

The title track kicks things off with a familiar formula, with ghostly vocal samples and static noise building into a beat that kicks off, and from there things start to feel a little less familiar than they have in the past.

Place A Wilhelm Scream into whatever brand of punk genre there is, it doesn't matter. It is unquestionably the best album released this year in whatever genre you choose

This is plainly Beyoncé’s most personal album yet, one forged in the fires of public miscarriages, a wrenching journey that does as much to combat this years Yeezus-led political misogyny as it complements with its own version of black empowerment and self-love, one that is staunchly, inclusively, womanist.