This overflows with ideas and intricate synth patterns while maintaining the emotional resonance of the band’s best work.

The Messenger, his second solo album, is a bracing reminder of his talents as a sonic architect.

It's simply another sturdy album that plays up what Fall Out Boy does best: rocking the arena with barely a second to catch your breath.

Frontman Tom Chaplin continues to imbue it all with freshness and wonder making Strangeland an inviting place.

No Time for Dreaming is a searing testament to the power of perseverance.

While the contributors are many, Cass County is a Henley vision down to its bones.

It's classic Nine Inch Nails with a few extra-disturbing flourishes.

The former Roxy Music frontman doesn't disappoint on his 13th solo album, a mesmerizing swirl of pulsating guitars, whooshing keys, and lite-funk undertones.

Sally Shapiro has beguiled fans at the intersection of electronic dance music and twee indie-pop with its near-perfect time capsules of ’80s synth-pop. The format hasn’t strayed much on this third full-length album, although the landscape has.

By reinventing the idea of what a guitar-centric band should sound like from the bottom up, Girl Band has established itself as a much-needed force in rock, and Holding Hands With Jamie is among most exhilarating opening salvos of 2015.

It's the rigor and directness of the voice-music connection--and the apparent lack of artifice--that makes for the work's stark power.

Finding Forever finds Common at his best lyrically, which means at his most basic, bending beats to fit his deliberate delivery.

Tillman had released solo records before joining Fleet Foxes in 2008, but none of them was as vivid as his latest.

Overall, the group's singing is mixed too low (vocals are not its strong suit anyway), but the music is consistently strong.

Fortunately, the alt-country singer-songwriter’s gifts of soul mining are so acute that the songs — inspired by her mother’s passing and a wrenching breakup — enrich as well as exhaust, and engender cautious optimism.

Galactic backs each act with professional, jazz-influenced ease and, on some songs, a hedonistic, dance-rock pulse a la Prince, all the while keeping its Mardi Gras flavor.

LaMontagne plays exquisite lead guitar throughout, backed by James on celestial harmonies that boost the psychedelic mood even higher. The resulting album is soothing therapy.

Lost Animal is the project of Australian musician Jarrod Quarrell, whose hypnotic songs sound utterly suspended in time and free of genre.

At its best, Vampire Weekend takes the exceedingly familiar template of indie rock and invigorates it with a chiming guitar sound that suggests the band has been spending its downtime browsing afropop.org.

Not only does the trio turn over new delights in familiar numbers like "Gloria's Step" and "Turn Out the Stars," but it even unearths "Song No. 1," an Evans composition he never recorded.

Smith creates wide-eyed compositions with textures that cascade over one another, capturing the vast celestial wonder of synthesized sound.

The disc exudes confidence on every front, though the group’s ambitions seem scaled up to world domination.

Steel Train is among those bands whose members weaned in the '90s and are now busting out their coming-of-age anthems. The band handles the job well on its new self-titled album, capturing the angst and uncertainty of young adulthood with freshly rendered details.

The Chieftains' new Voice of Ages gives voice to the Civil Wars, the Decemberists, the Low Anthem, Carolina Chocolate Drops, Pistol Annies, and the Secret Sisters, among others, but its identity as a Chieftains album is never in doubt.

In addition to a clutch of strong originals, the men also take on another lion with a cover of Bob Dylan’s “Don’t Think Twice, It’s All Right” and each puts a stamp on one of the other’s classics as Haggard tackles “Family Bible” and Nelson croons “Somewhere Between.”

Clapton shares some of his most transcendent guitar playing in years, especially the slide-guitar peaks of “I’ll Be There” and “I Got the Same Old Blues.” Most of his collaborations are inspired.

Regardless of the constantly evolving mood, RJ finds new ways to surprise and engage your ears.

Its 12th full-length album fits neatly into its discography while sounding contemporary and building on the trio's lean electro-rock.

When the fireworks gently pop and fizzle out in the last breath of EMA’s new album, it feels like the only way to close such an emotionally visceral set of songs.

All told, the LP stands as a convincing counterargument against those who claim hip-hop’s ’90s golden era can’t come back again.

Despite the fuller arrangements the whole package remains haunting: pristine on the surface with an uneasy core.

What a Terrible World, What a Beautiful World is one of the indie-rock band’s most enjoyable and lively efforts in recent memory.

On her new album, Harris has meticulously written and chosen a group of folk and country songs that support the nuances of that voice perfectly.

Ultimately, Stay Positive achieves the admirable feat of being a record you can listen closely to or rock out to, equally adaptable to late-night wallowing and the party at the water tower.

When everything coalesces to take the songs up a notch, especially on “Death Trip on a Party Train” or “Meet Your God,” they prove punk rock knows no age limit.

The music here is lush or spare when necessary. More singing in this context makes her shine more brightly.

From the terrific pulsing opener, "Don't Make Me a Target," to the curt horn and acoustic-guitar stomp of "The Underdog," these wonderfully produced and arranged songs brim with optimism and are pounded out purposefully.

For those on the lookout for alternatives to what currently passes for country music, Midwest Farmer’s Daughter is the latest reason to cheer.

[A] rich, dark collection of songs.

Now there’s an expansiveness in the music, borne out of a confidence that allows the songs to unfurl rather than rebound like pinballs.

Aiko’s producers, including No I.D. and Dot Da Genius, create expansive, inventive tracks that mirror the allure of her lithe vocals and intimate phrasing.

Street Songs of Love is among his very best and a worthy successor to 2008's "Real Animal."

Sometimes his influences, especially Nas (“On and On”), are transparent, but nothing here feels derivative. The production, filled with scratches, sonic invention, and live instrumentation by DJ Premier and Lawrence’s Statik Selektah, among others, often matches the MC’s audacity.

Sometimes the pair slips into an uncomplicated groove, and the results transcend the duo's deep, signature whimsy to lift Gnarls Barkley into the realm of classic.

Patch the Sky might not be saying much, but Mould’s putting his all into saying it.

Gore brings together light and dark, airy and grinding, in a way that makes these seemingly disparate qualities seem like natural allies.

You might expect a schizoid clusterbomb from Lights Out, but instead it’s an impressively seamless mix.

The seven songs on this EP, now being re-released onto the bigger stage through Astralwerks, are the epitome of the predominant contemporary mercurialism, where lo-fi electronic retro-futurism meets psyched-out garage.

If there's any particular conceit here, it's Merritt at his wry best, sharpening his pop hooks and keeping songs tightly wound.

The duo has left the cartoon buffoonery behind and drill down on making a rattling, raucous record.

This time out the musical gambles are bolder and the outcome proportionally more dramatic.

On his 12th official album, the 38-year-old's impressive work habits have both loosened and deepened his craft.

It's intensely devotional, but intensely satisfying.

Hypnotic Eye offers the band mostly in lean, mean, garage-rock machine mode firing up the fuzz and swagger.

Twenty years on from "Kerplunk," Green Day couldn't possibly replicate its early urgency, but the band can manage to keep its sound nicely unhinged.

The album finds the group covering some favorite songs and tying them together with its own rootsy flair.

This 11th album is slighter than the group’s finest records yet there are enough emotionally true narratives here brimming with soul and bruised wisdom.

The music? Thrilling as ever.

Part of the appeal as with M.I.A.--is the attitude and defiant urban undertow that draw you in, and, while not immediately accessible, it's ultimately irresistible.

It’s a vastly superior record, drawing you in with its electronic, murky ambience and the impression that these songs are coming to you from a singer submerged in water.

The results are extremely life-affirming.

Less visceral than Beach House and more rhythmic than Trespassers William, GEMS creates its own distinct shade of contemporary dream-pop. Usher’s angular guitar work and layers of synths provide a luxuriously designed sonic backdrop for Pitts’s doomed romanticism.

"23" furthers the group's recent fascination with a sleeker presentation that favors sheen over squall.

With each new release, its sound becomes more polished, and Last Light finds a groove between a radio-ready opus and an experimental jumble.

The band is clearly comfortable with the medium that it occupies between aggressive and technical post-hardcore yet is beginning to tread new territory.

After four self-produced albums, the Ohio-based duo enlists Gnarls Barkley's Danger Mouse to infuse their guitar-and-drums minimalism with a fuller roots-rock feel, and the results are fresh, intriguing, and often inspiring.

Anyone who rues the scarcity of smart, serious pop music for grown-ups should snap up the entire Sam Phillips catalog. On second thought, skip "Omnipop." But don't miss Phillips's splendid new effort, Don't Do Anything, a collection that dances in her signature mystery space between darkness and light with strange grace, emotional candor, and winsome hooks.

Listen a little closer to the sly, snarky lyrics and glam grooves on this feisty debut and you'll hear that this former downtown New York spice girl has at least a few things on her dirty mind.

The sultry singer [Bobbie Gentry], who had a hit with "Ode to Billie Joe," is part of this essential new Light in the Attic compilation that explores a fringe strain of country music.

This is the album for people who used to be Franz Ferdinand fans but strayed. It gives them a reason to come back.

It's nothing more--or less--than the latest chapter in his extraordinary, funhouse-mirror version of honky-tonk traditionalism.

Don’t Stop is an electro-pop truffle--a tasty confection with a hard, glossy shell surrounding a smooth, melt-in-your-ear interior of cheeky, playful lyrics.

Nearly half these songs are the original demos, which explains some of the austerity that makes it such a compelling listen from a band that's still at the mercy of its muse.

When Joyce Manor cracks open its sound the results are satisfying despite (or maybe because of?) being delivered in bite-size form.

It’s the work of a talented rapper who takes palpable pleasure in the possibilities of language.

New Found Glory is at its best when sounding highly caffeinated, even if breakneck tempos belie a song's blue mood.

Held is a haunted forest worth getting lost in, but don't expect to be on your own for long.

Arriving toward the end of summer, Another Self Portrait feels perfectly suited for the type of reflection that accompanies autumn.

Its songs are more impressionistic, brash in their knotty arrangements and assured in their execution.

After his 2005 debut, DeVaughn ups the ante with a sprawling effort that works as a showcase for his lush vocals.

Yoav proves that a guitar and his voice are the only instruments you really need to make powerful, versatile music.

It is a surprise and a thrill to hear that even as the band enters its "artsy" phase--expanding its instrumental palette to include mewling saws and clattering percussion--the songs remain uniformly excellent from stem to stern.

Most of Little Hells is musically quite simple, giving the sense that whatever Nadler has to say rests entirely in her sound, not in the songs themselves

Congratulations, MGMT's time-warped sophomore release, is a strange beast, a candy-colored acid trip set to music, and easily the most hallucinatory rock record of the year so far.

Shelton continues to shine as a singer, especially on the heartfelt "I'm Sorry'' and the title track, a tender duet with wife Miranda Lambert.

Williams adapted the song from a poem by her father, Miller Williams, and it gives Down Where the Spirit Meets the Bone its emotional compass if not its melodic direction. The rest of this double album, Williams’s first, settles into a deep groove that suggests the singer-songwriter was fired up and couldn’t--and shouldn’t--whittle her latest to a standard 10 songs.

The music can be enjoyed apart from the story, but either way, this is a must-have for true Cooder fans.

In addition to producing the set with an ear for warmth, Grohl plays drums on “Let It Rain” which definitely gives the band some extra snap. And the group’s signature harmonies are lush throughout. Given the title, we look forward to a possible “Vol. 2.”

With her slight but sweet voice, Musgraves has a way with a sing-songy chorus, many of which she co-writes with her frequent collaborators and fellow hitmakers Shane McAnally, Brandy Clark, and Luke Laird.

Be it personal or observational, O’Connor is definitely in charge on Bossy.

The album bumps from electronica to cabaret to jazz and back again; it's busy but never feels schizophrenic.

As always, the British-French band has crafted upbeat, bubbly, retro-futuristic songs from strands of krautrock, lounge, French cafe music, and samba.

Middle Cyclone is by far Case's most quixotic album, and that's saying a lot considering the abstract ideas behind her last studio album, 2006's "Fox Confessor Brings the Flood." Yet it's also the most revealing and rewarding work in a 12-year recording career that has seen Case evolve from an alt-country siren to a singular songwriter as capricious as a weather vane.

His richly contoured, slightly raspy voice and the production work of Austin Jenkins and Josh Block (of the scruffy Texan rockers White Denim) give the album heft.

LP1 is the kind of soft-focus album that the late American R&B singer Aaliyah might have made.

Even Spike Lee appears to show he got game. All this would be distracting if the 14 tracks weren't so darn good. Luda's lyrics are so sharp and supremely witty throughout.

With Rick Rubin at the helm, employing his trademark austerity but not overdoing the dryness, the group swings for the fences musically, lyrically, vocally, and emotionally. Its batting average is sterling.

There is a new energy and focus acting as the perfect foil to Hot Chip’s lyrics, which have always been remarkably clever, particularly in the emotionally stunted realm of dance music.