Though occasionally confounding, it inevitably turns out to be time well spent.

Majestically sad (“Almost Home,” “Saints”), soulfully sad (“A Case For Shame”), atmospherically sad (“Going Wrong”), trip hop sad (“The Last Day,” “Tell Me”), Northern soul sad (“Don’t Love Me”) are all interesting but often too subtle variations that almost make you want to force feed him Zoloft at times.

This is more, almost more than you can take, and it’s better than less any day.

Sunlight on the Moon is utterly pleasant, slightly off-kilter and melodically memorable, but if you listen to it hard enough, it’s also a bit disturbing.

Deer Tick’s fifth and latest offering is a tad darker and surprisingly personal compared to earlier efforts. The result is ultimately a stronger album, but it takes a little time to get to the good stuff.

Devour is a completely impressive collection from start to finish.

With twenty tracks and plenty of impromptu circumstance, it may not offer the same potential for pure appreciation that a standard anthology of studio tracks might provide. Nevertheless, there’s an adventurous spirit contained herein, and The Chills show they’re adept at heating things up as necessary.

The Canadian chanteuse offers up a series of deceptively delicate entreaties that quickly give way to the sort of emphatic rhythms and boisterous melodies that reflect an unmistakably bold confidence.

The Avett Brothers have established a singular style. And with it, a well-deserved reputation that assures their place among the best of the breed.

No Age has made an album devoid of joy, yet I couldn’t help but smile when listening to it.

It would seem as if she’s making music from a disengaged point of view.

Intended as the follow-up to Griffin’s sophomore set Flaming Red, Silver Bell finds a young artist still determining her direction. Griffin’s furtive vocals dominate the album overall, but the settings shift dramatically throughout.

From the opening cut of “Earthen Gate” the songs nudge, heave, shove and then finally bulldoze their way to your hearts.

Despite those candid confessions, Arrows never bows to Scattergood’s self-indulgence, given the swooning synths and other cosmic confections.

Somewhere along the line, this became an amazing band, and songwriting/arranging this masterful elevates Blur The Line to modern-classic status, fully justifying the 5-star rating applied at the top of this review.

Unison chants (“Kaani”) and stray bursts of percussion (“Nouvel”) punctuate the multi-lingual songs, but the dominant timbre is a delicious, delirious clang.

Pushin’ Against A Stone is an impressive calling card to the rest of the world that this, until now, under heralded artist is both an adept student of American folk music traditions and a modern day practitioner with perhaps preternatural talents.

The compelling 46-minute result shape-shifts with graceful ease, never losing touch with its pop song aesthetic.

It’s a balance of brainy introspection and communal joy--hard to do but easy to listen to.

Ambitious and inviting, Siberia puts Polvo in a more accessible place while remaining faithful to its artistic vision.

This is the kind of show that often carries a “had to be there” air, especially given the heavy participation of the crowd and the freewheeling nature of the performance. But Chilton’s charm and talent make Electricity By Candlelight wear surprisingly well.

Happily, The Ghost of the Mountain succeeds in every respect, an album that sounds like the product of a group rather than simply a collaboration between like-minded associates.

Nature Noir feels like it’s got a bit more substance and structure, a natural foundation under the otherworldly sheen.

So while songs such as “Beautiful Dream,” “Run” and “Gloria” may be anchored with a touch of techno, there’s also plenty of sparkle and substance to keep most folks satisfied.

This debut from Dangerkids is ambitious only in the fact that there is so much wrong with this record.

The EP is the perfect cherry on that sweet cake that is Light Up Gold.

You can’t help but feel a little let down that they didn’t experiment a bit more on this one.

To be sure, Blitzen Trapper can be commended for breaking down the boundaries between roots and rhythm, even though they may alienate those more accustomed to the tried and true.

From the heads down deliberation of Alligator, Mississippi to the teasing double entendre of Sweet Tooth, White’s music captures a particular time and place when pop and pretense weren’t necessarily intertwined.

On Oni Pond, their fifth, is quite possibly the closest they will ever come to being considered de-cluttered.

The mixtape of emotions Trentemoller has produced on Lost is proof of his virtuosity.

It’s merely average, one likely to fade into memory once the buzz dies down and the fire goes out.

Despite the duplications from previous collections and a heavy emphasis on dubious alternate mixes, true devotees will likely still find Made in California an essential acquisition.

Yes, this type of record has been done before, and arguably better, but there are still some powerful tracks on The Things.

Allegedly a bubblegum record, in reality this is Collins’ take on psychedelic pop, with twinkling keyboards, polite guitars and a heretofore unimagined Collins croon that could charm the panties off a lesbian punk rocker.

It’s that free-flowing vibe that helps make this seem more like an overdue reunion for the home town crowd as much as any attempt at a polished performance.

While that sad waste of talent and potential deals the album a serious blow, the rest of the set proves mostly satisfying, even when the song selection remains relatively unknown.

Their latest, crammed with 17 tracks, will likely be a case of too much of a good thing for all but the hardcore fans.

Tales of Us unveils yet again how talented Goldfrapp truly is as together Alison and Gregory continue to craft music that does not pigeonhole them into a set genre; they simply make exceptional music.

Elvis at Stax, discreetly packaged, replete with complete credits for musicians, singers, and studio personnel, and excellent (if fawning) Robert Gordon liner notes, is a nice corrective.

With Sleeper Segall sounds almost, well, mature, and emotionally invested.

The lush production and whimsical tone complement May’s discerning ear for song arrangements, making Warm Blanket his most endearing effort yet.

The good folks at Shout Factory didn’t opt to only offer these discs a second time around, but instead provided added enticement via two bonus extras, a stunning live recording from Nashville’s Polk Theater, recorded around the same time as I Feel Alright, and a live DVD from the Cold Creek Correctional Facility where Earle had earlier been incarcerated.

Over The Rhine have made their masterpiece at last.

Good as this is, it could be that much better.

Derivative? Sure. But also blissfully compelling and entertaining.

King Khan is, so far, pursuing a sound that is more huge than slick, and it sounds great.

It all combines to create an album of magical (realist) splendor, a journey into a past which will always have more to offer each time you listen to it.

The ferocity in their delivery and the sheer sweep of their eager entreaties create an anthemic exposition, resulting in a series of songs that make it impossible to sit still.

["Arkestra" is] a mess and a resolution all at once, a miasma shot through with clarity. The rest of the album is good, but if you need one reason to play it again, this is it.

This is the ordinary world made radiant, surreal and strange, its everyday objects glowing with internal light.

It’s unlikely that Carrier will be the offering that brings that promise home. Yet it is a superb showcase for the pair’s ample prowess.

The impotence of railing against it is a theme running through a lot of the record, and in the case of Nightingale Floors, coming to terms with the past has freed Rogue Wave to turn in what might be their finest work.

Opening the door of your mind’s eye to the psychedelic sludge and acid punk hooks of Slave Vows will gain you a lot of decadent pleasure, little insight and even less mercy.

These slow-rolling, Southern-bred sentiments serve him well, and indeed Gone Away Backward appears to be a fine step forward.

The raison d’etre here is warhammer shred, with little mercy and less restraint.

While the tunefulness of these tracks may not be so obvious--and in many cases, almost entirely elusive--she entices her listeners to peel back the layers and discover the shimmering glow that emanates from within.

Though some lyricless segments blur together, a few stand out.

The album is gorgeous, almost an abstraction of what musical loveliness could be.

In isolation, he finds beautiful music; with a band, he discovered confusion, pretentiousness and ultimately an average record.

Fondness for Jackleg only grows the more time you spend with it.

The rock vibe of past records is all but gone but not completely as the final song, “Brio” smokes along.

Phillips’ very considerable skill is in getting to the core of an idea, stripping it down to essentials and then shading it subtly with cross-currents of meaning and musical counterpoint.

The Ash & Clay, which is the new record from The Milk Carton Kids, is a fine representation of a dish that’s been plated to near perfection with but a small amount of key elements to make it a delight.

Certainly, there’s a fine line in-between a record bearing cohesion and every song being a clone of the tune before it, but Naomi suffers, even if slightly so, from multiple personalities.

Soft Will is certainly pleasant enough (which shouldn’t really be what you’re striving for with a rock album), and I’m sure is being hailed by indie taste makers everywhere who like their rock on the sterile side.

Melbourne is easy to listen to, but hard to make sense of.

Paul Walker’s not for everyone but will at least get the 40-somethings to quit bitching about Green Day.

To the Happy Few combines the experience of veterans with the joy of rediscovery.

Written while staying in the New Jersey house in which he grew up, the record isn’t so much nostalgic as wistful, as if Jones was surveying the streets he used to walk with good memories but no desire to relive the past.

As long as those instrumental additives remain intact, Poco will always excel in more than name alone, but with fewer voices in the mix, it also remains a challenge to reach that high bar established so early on.

Flowers is his third solo record and, unsurprisingly, it’s a collection of lush, textured compositions that, intentionally or not, accurately depict the graceful, exciting and endless landscapes that Iceland is so famed for.

Fortunately, most of the singers feel a kinship to Drake that comes through. They communicate that this is a cause worthy of their most thoughtful interpretive skills.

Anthemic stuff abounds here but they really hit a powerful stride in the middle with the fast-paced “Lizard Kids,” the funky bottom of “Lunar Phobia” and the girl-group sweetness of “Wrack Attack.”

Club 8 exist in their own bubble and continue to make music for themselves. You can’t fault them for that, on the contrary, they deserve your deeper respect for it.

Waiting for Something To Happen is an excellent record.

Though there are some slow-burners on this record; songs that might not stick on the first or second go round, they are worth the patience once they finally click with the listener.

The overall mood, however, is thoughtful and somber: unlike You Are Not Alone, this is a contemplative late-night album rather than a celebratory Sunday morning one. It’s wonderful.

Year of No Returning may not be the definitive post-Harpoons Furman record – he’s got another one coming this fall--but it is an album to build on.

Yessir Whatever may not be as essential as other titles in the extensive Madlib library, but is definitely worth checking out if you dig the id of his art.

It makes for a suitably successful second record that, regardless of the salacious story surrounding the band that made it, pretty much lives up to the inspiring promise of their first.

Subtlety and finesse are the watchwords here, two elements that deliver artistic intrigue.

Cosmic concoctions of this sort are all too rare these days, so it’s rather refreshing to hear this sound revisited, particularly with the added investment in melody that Elephant Stone tends to allow.

Somewhere between the somber and the swagger are the expansive and loosely-narrative “King of Cleveland” and “Famous Friends Along the Coast,” which both play like cinematic vignettes. Rich with imagery, resonance and hooks, they feel less esoteric than the rest of the album. But these songs are relatable and immediate, and lend a groundedness to the 12-track collection.

This album balances that joy and sadness perfectly and powerfully.

None of these songs (well maybe “Hear No Evil”) will really shock long-term Lightning Bolt fans--but they do depart in interesting ways from the main project.

Practically vibrating with the will to realize its ambition, Crime & the City Solution finally produces its masterpiece.

To fully appreciate the album, it needs close attention. The magic comes when the members of the quartet start bumping each other up to the next musical level, and it helps to discover the steps they take to do that.

The whole project is haunted by mournfulness and death. And that of course suits a Nico tribute well.

Hearing “Love Is the Drug,” “Virginia Plain” and “The Bogus Man” this way embalms the material. And many lose a key dimension without vocals.

While some songs are utterly slow paced, they are obscured by the strength of the aforementioned tracks as well as “The Fall” and “Last Dance.”

With a reflective outlook worthy of Bragg’s now venerable stature, this weathered perspective serves him well.

It’s intense and contradictory, a bundle of bravado and doubt and vulnerability and longing that stays with you for a long time after the last chorus fades.

Though the songs can come off as occasionally sterile (“On A Day” quickly comes to mind), it’s still a pretty impressive collection of songs from a band that’s only been around for a few years.

The pair keeps the door unlocked for the curious, but doesn’t put out tea and cakes in welcome, either.

He came out the other side with a hard-won wisdom, emotion and sense of craft that, like soul music, never goes out of style.

As the set progresses, Simon seems to shore up his resolve.

It makes for a varied bunch if ever there was one, a set of songs that proves both deft and divine.