Børns has improved technically as a singer since his last record, and he’s smart not to cede the spotlight to Del Rey, instead using the album to twist his peculiar brand of romantic retrofuturism into inventive new shapes.

“Flux,” with its sharp focus and even sharper songwriting, could be a sign that the world is ready to focus — even if its residual chaos makes one need to let out a scream now and again.

SMD sounds like it's found a handle on its sound.

This time, there are moments of eye-opening wonder.

The three brothers and a cousin reconnect the dots of their career and interrelationships in an impressively catchy set of 11 songs.

For an album that’s seemingly been in turnaround for so long, Broke sounds very much of the moment.

Almost every song is a gem, the lyrics thoughtful and melodies memorable.

The intense and intensely bearded Maine singer-songwriter showcases a lighter side on his superbly crafted third disc.

Mostly, though, 21 sounds as though it was built around Adele's presence.

The Cult reunites with two former collaborators--producers Bob Rock and Chris Goss--with satisfyingly brawny results.

Pulling the entire effort back from the precipice of cliché is the immediate charisma of vocalist Megan James, particularly engaging when hurdling over cleverly constructed lines of wordplay.

While each movement works on its own, Elements is best experienced in one long pass.

The dizzying succession of beats per minute paired with thoughtful lyrics about music's role in shaping memories gives Saint Etienne a chance to create a rare entity: Dance music for the thinking person.

Never is frank, fearless, and restless--a 14-song rattle bag of damaged samples, uneasy hooks, intuitive melody, and dry humor.

Following an uncharacteristic hiatus, singer-songwriter Ryan Adams returns with this lovely, low-key effort.

Keys has rarely ever sounded so at ease, so downright sensual, as she does as her latest.

Proving itself to be more than a reunion cash-in, Heaven & Hell--the re-brand for Black Sabbath with Ronnie James Dio on vocals--has a batch of new material that is every bit as menacingly delightful as 2007's concert tour that revived the lineup after 15 years.

There's not a lot of replay value in Björk's new mode, but it still works humbly well and the computer visuals go a long way toward expanding on the fragile, chamber orchestra feel of the music.

Her vivid miniatures of complicated intimacies and everyday inadequacies slip between the cracks of country, folk, and rock, and they're as graceful as they are unflinching.

Evermotion is an airy, winsome release that puts less focus on guitars, dabbling instead in horns and electronic and new wave sounds, to terrific, moody effect.

From its length (18 songs, 66 minutes) to its guest list (Kanye West, Rod Stewart, Danger Mouse, Lil Wayne, Yasiin Bey, M.I.A.), the album is as much a large-scale production as his debut was. But it’s done on Rocky’s terms, with every element enhancing the sound that he laid out on his initial mixtape.

Harper leaves a few arrows unstrung from his deep musical quiver here, but the ones he fires all seem to hit their mark.

Halestorm’s third album is packed with straightforward mud-in-your-eye rockers, but also throws enough stylistic curveballs to set it apart from the crowd.

By midway through the album’s opening title track — its rolling banjo, accordion, and bagpipes atop raging punk chords as Al Barr and Ken Casey stake out an us-versus-them ethos — they’ve practically ionized every molecule in the listener’s body until all that’s left is the rush that the band intended. Although it may be schtick, it’s a really good schtick, and the Murphys are damn good at it.

April, the third Sun Kil Moon album by Kozelek and friends, has several such sweet spots, the kind we hope will never end.

An 80-minute prog-metal fever dream that proves the band is back and better than ever.

The Seattle boy-girl duo of Grant Olsen and Sonya Westcott fashions narcotic, melancholy pop songs that would make the band's influences proud (Neil Young and the Velvet Underground in its quieter moments chief among them).

Just about every note and lyric on Erin McKeown's Manifestra is a step away from the norm. Yet the songs are so beguiling you can't help but follow.