On Mala he certainly could have done himself some favours by trimming away some lesser moments (particularly the pointless minute long “Mala” or “A Gain”) but there’s certainly a sense that’s he gradually becoming more efficient with his song writing.

Girls Names does not dwell on the dourness, but conquers and transforms it into a solace--a sound resulting from some hallucinatory fever like a Max Ernst painting, realizing the shadowy dimension parallel to this existence.

Frank Ocean might have a gutsier pen game–and Usher more moves and Miguel more sex appeal--but 20/20 is easier to fall into a groove with than any of the best contemporary pop/R&B albums out right now.

There’s a confidence exhibited here that’s refreshing.

New Moon has extended the the group’s realization of their own freedom.

Punk Authority sounds too accomplished to be the product of mere caprice.

A tangled and glorious mess of aggressive glitches and clipped synths and stuttering beats and hints, shadows, and fragments of tunefulness.

The duo retain a stripped down approach and it helps make each production choice and songwriting turn feel pondered and noteworthy, each track carving out its own identity and mood within a larger thematically consistent body.

Sweat’s new album, All My Love In Half Light, follows from her debut, Mantic, utilizing the same setup albeit this time she sounds clearer, grander, and more in control of herself and the world she’s creating.

Javelin’s sound has in fact undergone distilled changes, but the result is still a fun album that once again brings up the question of what could be next for the duo.

When viewed on its own, Vol. 3 is a pleasant, though fundamentally flawed, ending to Smith’s musical journey.

Sudden Elevation is her first album entirely in English, and is the result of an escape to a seaside cottage to focus herself on her songs and the concept of the album itself, detailing the way tracks would ebb and flow. As a result she’s created arguably her best work to date.

Lesser songwriters might stop there, and accept lyrical maturation as the only necessary step toward a sophomore effort, but Crutchfield also uses Cerulean Salt as a way to expand her sonic palette beyond the crackling acoustic guitar ballads that marked her previous work.

They’re wisps and fragments that might leave you feeling nostalgic for the nostalgia that marked Payseur’s past. If only the messages contained within the songs rang as true as the guitars.

Neither cold enough to make a disquieting impression nor warm enough to connect with the listener the way the artist’s own A Strangely Isolated Place or, hell, Amber did.

If The Year of Hibernation was childhood nostalgia, this is existentialist pubescence.

Push the Sky Away has the ability to move without raising its voice above a whisper.

When taken as a whole, and as an effervescent thumbing of the nose at the noise establishment, Total Folklore goes by like a breeze, even if the last 11 tracks (three of those ambient interludes) feel a bit overshadowed in the wake of “Ulysses”‘s monolithic, alien bliss.

Both [Frankie Rose and the Outs’ 2010 self-titled] and this one are short, sweet, and undeniably charming rock records that hold up on repeat listens more than you might expect.

There’s an impressive amount of sound and instrumentation for a trio. The consequence is that McEntire doesn’t stand out quite as well as last time, and can easily get lost in the tight, economical work from her bandmates.

As a product of Yorke’s mind, AMOK represents a measurable progression over The Eraser. It’s more experimental, varied, nuanced, and likeable.

Torres doesn’t really feel like a debut, let alone something remotely self-released–the songwriting ability and surprisingly fantastic and natural production allow for this journal-esque story to get its due.

It seems that with General Dome, Buke and Gase have managed to do just fine, and they’ve created a record that looks forward, as well as backward, to what indie rock has been and what it has the potential to be.

The most frustrating thing about these eleven songs is that it sounds as if Lidell is shackled by the aesthetic, and it’s totally self-imposed. He’s capable of more.

Anxiety matches the emotional heights and immediacy of the music Ashin was inspired by, but what arrives from his limitations--as a singer, as a DIY-ist--adds to the record a personal foundation and raw authenticity no amount of budget could erect.

While Sally Shapiro (the duo) take some much-appreciated baby steps towards new sounds on Somewhere Else, Sally Shapiro the frontwoman remains just as stuck in unrequited love as ever, and the music that supports her is no less bouncy or plasticine as her previous stuff.

The band have taken their influences with their own abilities and made an album that is as accessible as it is excitable, and seems set to capture the hearts and imaginations of young lovers everywhere.

One Track Mind aims for the feel of a great dusty road-trip album, and only through its staggering consistency does it slightly fall short of such heights. But when it hits its highs, as if often does, the collection is a transcendent experience.