Why it took ten years to craft is unclear, but if this qualifies as a comeback, The Hives have returned with a thunderous buzz.

As much as Broken Social Scene's identity is wrapped up in it's concept as a collective, their most transcendent moments are not their speedy grandiose party anthems but are instead the small soft details like the band setting into a slow almost improvisational groove in "Sweetest Kill" or the hushed vocals of Emily Haines, Leslie Feist and Amy Millan singing in poignant unison on "Sentimental X's."

Like its simple, evocative cover painting of puffy white clouds drifting by a window, Khruangbin’s music hangs and hovers, creating an ethereal ambiance beckoning the listener to explore more of their addictive, atmospheric sound.

Headphones make the experience even more visceral since listeners can concentrate on the intricacy of the tracks. But in any environment, Flat White Moon is an inventive, original and impressive project from a band who hasn’t yet found a boundary they can’t expand.

Like Peggy Lee, Francoise Hardy, Jane Birkin and others, Molly Burch is a chanteuse, exploring the edges of noir songs with beauty, sadness, and an honest vulnerability that’s powerful yet strikingly understated.

Marcus King isn’t pushing any boundaries on the leathery Young Blood, he doesn’t need to. His talents as songwriter, singer, and guitarist are skillfully displayed in these dozen roots rockers that any musician in this genre would be proud to have crafted with the energy, enthusiasm, and sheer professionalism he displays.

His latest, Songs and Stories, is simply Clark doing what he does best: relating life's joys and sorrows, from "Homegrown Tomatoes" to "The Randall Knife," in song.

Royal Blood shifted gears and embraced a more polished sonic profile and neon color scheme for Typhoons, given that intensity and darkness reinforce its narratives in this album more zealously than its predecessors.

The album, sees the pop maven realize her own strength and let it take her somewhere new while keeping with her characteristic candor and energy.

Son Volt doesn’t try anything fancy on Notes In Blue, nor does it need to. It simply puts the spotlight on the frontman and lets him knock every one of these songs high into the stormy skies and right out of the park.

On a single disc that runs just under an hour (each performance was about double that), there is unused time to add more. What’s here though is terrific with invigorated versions of Isbell’s best tunes given a crackling edge. Despite a mix that buries the keyboards, the sound is sharp and crisp, making this a great souvenir for fans and a solid primer of Isbell’s talents for newcomers.

[Producer Ryan Adams] allows Johns’ emotionally driven music to simply and effectively do its job, capturing a two day moment in time that will continue to resonate for years.

Those who believe the singer’s best work is behind him will rethink that after one spin of the impressive Apache, an album--significantly the first on his own label--that ranks with the finest in Neville’s storied career.

With a two-pack-a-day voice that combines the hard boiled/craggy rectitude of Tony Joe White, Johnny Cash, Kris Kristofferson and especially Waylon Jennings, anything Walls touches feels authentic and lived-in.

On Blue Mesa, Luke Winslow-King reflects on his strengths, weaknesses and need to keep moving with the lyrical and musical integrity of a heartbroken journeyman who understands, believes in and respects the road ahead and behind.

Over the course of 23 tracks—a mix of archival classics, recent entries, and a couple of covers—the band struts their stuff with the usual flair and panache.

The sound is quintessentially opiate--almost sleep-inducing--and upon writing that, it should be clarified as a compliment, kind of like falling asleep to NPR: It gives good information, but the undertones and lush notes can lull you to dreams.

If Berninger intended to establish an imprint beyond his day job, he certainly succeeded here. Once Serpentine Prison opens its doors, visitors will likely find it hard to leave.

It could be all tongue in cheek--and some of it probably is--but in the end, this isn’t an Occupy rally, it’s a rock album. And it’s not a shabby one at that.

The album in a nutshell: a broken heart carried with poise, good humor and endless charm.

It's a solid, not spectacular album with a few very fine songs.

Clark has an outstanding cast of supporting players helping to underscore her intents, among them, Derek Trucks, Lucius, guitarist Judd Hughes, drummer Matt Chamberlain, bassist Sebastian Steinberg, and of course Carlile herself. Nevertheless, Clark can claim credit for this remarkably revealing record and for having the courage to convey these tattered truths so well.

First Aid Kit’s latest may be a slightly more conservative gesture than their last record, but it synthesizes their many musical strains more fully than ever before.

Krall never seems out of place even as she takes chances in a space that could have left her sounding overwhelmed.

It’s unfortunate that a platter which runs less than 25 minutes includes filler, but there is little else to call the closing 1:40 studio instrumental jam “How ‘Bout a Hand for the Band.” It’s clearly fun for the musicians involved but not interesting enough to pad an already too-brief release.

It’s overwhelming proof, if anyone needed it, that Noel Gallagher’s best days aren’t behind him. If Who Built the Moon is any indication, the high flying British icon may just be getting started.

It shows that a talented, visionary singer-songwriter can comfortably do what she does so well, yet not be trapped by conventionality.

Rouse uses his recent psychoanalysis sessions to question universal questions of our place in life as we age. That he does so with such beautifully crafted, hummable pop songs is a testament to his long established talents as one of America’s more overlooked singer/songwriters.