A satisfying mix of adult pop-soul love songs that evoke his early work. These amiable, adroitly produced and arranged songs confirm his inimitable knack for graceful melodies and effortless hooks.

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.

Every song here features cascades of syllables, careful integration of repetition, and narrative momentum.

If there are no uptempo blazers on the order of "Rolling in the Deep" or "Rumor Has It," the album doesn’t suffer in quality for the lack.

With the creative confidence to go with his considerable skills and heart, Logic crafts some polished and appealing material.... Overall, a step up for the sophomore.

No one does heartbreak and yearning quite like this veteran singer-songwriter, who sounds renewed here with a streamlined sound in these 12 carefully observed, beautifully sung songs.

Church had already set the bar high for himself with his watershed 2011 release, “Chief,” and more disparate 2014 album, “The Outsiders.” He vaults over that bar with “Mr. Misunderstood,” in some ways a love letter to music itself and to the ways it can save a soul, a heart, a sense of self.

It’s fascinating to hear how some songs started in one direction and darted into another one entirely.

On Return to the Moon, their debut for 4AD, the duo play off each other’s strengths--Knopf’s kaleidoscopic art rock and Berninger’s impressionistic storytelling--to skim the best of both worlds.

Wolf Eyes’ travels through the depths of noise and despair sound like they end up at a place where the gates read “Abandon All Hope,” but the group’s ability to put across its artistic vision with such totality should inspire at least a flicker of optimism.

His self-titled debut on Anti- Records requires several listens before it comes into focus as a shape-shifting exploration of identity both personal and universal.

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.

Fueled by exploration and musical experimentation, Carlton’s reinvention finds her a long way from “A Thousand Miles”--and in a better place, artistically.

On Divers, her breathtaking follow-up to 2010’s “Have One on Me,” the singer, songwriter, and harpist affirms her stature as a visionary. It’s the most streamlined of her four albums.

There’s plenty on Storyteller that will sound familiar to Underwood fans, and a few filler tracks. But a little stretching goes a long way, and this might be her most interesting album yet.

Singer-songwriter Josh Ritter is moving fast on his eighth album, but he never puts a foot wrong. The 12-track collection, produced by Trina Shoemaker over two weeks in New Orleans, is positively giddy with wordplay.

For all the lyrical power of those songs (and others here), the album’s most affecting moment may be its most plain-spoken: At the set’s end, Lund shares a song about a young niece who died of cancer, “Sunbeam,” that brims with quiet, heartfelt beauty.

A forthright album of pop songs that make it clear she is ready to be honest and even vulnerable in her music.

Among 12 originals there are a couple of failures (“Winslow” is soft, creamy, and dull), but the vast majority insinuate themselves into your brain with repeat listens. Not much commercial potential, but a job well done.

Whether he is grappling with his confusion with the modern world in the searching title track, mulling the delightful aggravations of relationships on “If It Wasn’t For You” and the joys of making up on “A Little Smile,” or working up a froth on his rage, rattle, and roll version of Television’s “See No Evil,” Jackson is in peak form.

Colvin struggles with the Band’s complex “Acadian Driftwood,” but otherwise shines.

Stories drags a bit at the end, the low point being a reggae-lite track starring former Fugee Wyclef Jean and the fusion-minded Matisyahu, but when it hits, it hits big.

What’s surprising isn’t that the band takes such leaps, but that it nails its landings so surely.

Unbreakable is much closer in sound and spirit to her peak self, and her most solid release in years.

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.

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

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

Now six solo albums in, Vile sounds like no one but himself.

If you didn’t already, it even makes you appreciate Swift’s stealth songwriting, particularly when scaled to its essence.

Gilmour’s fourth solo record summons a heady dose of the grandeur he brought to Floyd.

The players clearly thrill in wringing every possible sound out their instruments, making La Di Da Di one of the year’s most satisfying trips into the sonic unknown.

[A] fun, star-studded tribute, recorded with new Vampires Johnny Depp and Joe Perry

The album is assured and seductive, to the point that the despair underpinning so many of the songs isn’t immediately obvious.

Glynne’s first solo album (which has already hit No. 1 in the UK) is a bit all over the place stylistically, but flaunts her formidable pipes and undeniable talent for injecting a lyric with vulnerability.

Finn’s second solo album is packed with songs rich in street intelligence and wry humor.

His formula-defying sixth record probably won’t provide his breakthrough [in the United States], but it’s an undeniable creative triumph.

The Book of Souls is a triumph, packed with instantly memorable songs and riffs, vocal heroics, triple-guitar fireworks, and vital, committed performances.

Coproduced and primarily co-written by Auerbach and Michels, Yours, Dreamily satisfyingly careers from gauzy, reverb-soaked late-night soundscapes to raucous, fuzzy freak-outs.

Her latest has a surplus of them [uniformly great songs]. It suggests Cyrus, at 22, has figured out how to present her views in a way that’s still powerful but also musically interesting and cohesive.

While drummer Mikkey Dee shines on an unexpected cover of the Rolling Stones’ “Sympathy for the Devil.” That efficient if unspectacular borrowing aside, this potent record ranks among the year’s best.

If you are a Beach House fan and want a shimmering soundtrack to serve as a backdrop for daydreaming, then Depression Cherry should fit the bill. For everyone else, your mileage may vary wildly, even within the span of one listen.

Thomas continues briskly down the middle of the road with a collection of jaunty pop ditties, brooding midtempo rockers, and heartfelt piano ballads.

An album that’s incredibly enjoyable even as Jepsen stands on the precipice of heartache.

It takes band mastermind Ellen Kempner exactly eight songs in 30 minutes to hook you and leave you wanting to hear more.

A highly listenable rebirth.

None of it would work without Royce’s supple voice and sweet charisma, which help to make offerings like the glitchy “Handcuffs,” which in less skilled hands could sound like a slippery commitment-phobe’s insincere come-on, recall a soul pried open.

Tracks like the straightforward “Huntin’, Fishin’, and Lovin’ Every Day” and the shimmering, wistful “Just Over” apply Bryan’s smooth charm to aspects of the Nashville template, his omnivorous nature peeks through here and there.

Often built around little more than the words, DeMent’s homespun warble, and a piano sometimes fleshed out by stringed instruments--is closely aligned to DeMent’s best work.

A magnificent, subtle reshaping of classic honky-tonk sounds and sentiment, fulfills that promise and then some.

The result is a great effort from a still-striving free spirit.

Blood, is a statement of purpose and self-discovery.

The group compensates for meager substance with plenty of style and energy, and has enough of both to almost pull it off.

The disc clocks in at less than 30 minutes, but its short songs hit like a hatchet to the head.

Their new debut album, Watkins Family Hour, retains all the homespun intimacy of a bunch of musicians enjoying one another’s company and talent.

There’s enough variety here that you understand why the whole shebang needed to come out--and vintage audiophiles will just about bow down before the quality of these tapes.

Deftones frontman Cheno Moreno shows up on “Embers,” but sounds tame next to the recharged Blythe.

It’s definitely more expansive sonically than Monroe’s previous work, which doesn’t mean it sounds disjointed; rather, it comes across as presenting different sides of the same artist.

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.

The veteran duo and its guests are challenging and provocative throughout Born in the Echoes, even as they creatively blow up dance floors.

Nothing here is quite as instantly engaging as MS MR’s breakthrough single, “Hurricane,” but the duo’s gaze remains trained on both the expanse of the horizon and the insularity of the internal drama.

You can feel the giddy fun Parker was clearly having in the studio.

Quieter but equally captivating.

The tracks vary from astonishingly good--Gregory Porter taking up residence inside “Sinnerman” with a palpable desperation, the urgent instrumental track matching the calamity of his emotion--to acceptable, as when Mary J. Blige renders “Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood” a sort of edgeless quiet-storm jam.

Ghost Notes unsurprisingly reflects (and reflects on) the band’s maturity, but retains the confidence and playfulness that made it an alt-rock touchstone.

[The music] gurgles gradually into consciousness like the titular binary, the colors of sunrise and sunset enveloping in the electronically rooted compositions.

Lucky 7 is a bit too comfortable; despite consistently solid returns, it would be nice to see Statik raise the stakes the next time he’s up to bet.

Vince Staples goes all-in on his sprawling double-LP commercial debut, and the returns are decent if not world-beating.

If there are no obvious radio-ready hits on par with “Adorn,” his massive hit from 2012’s “Kaleidoscope Dream,” there is something more potent in their place: a stone-cold classic not tethered to time, genre, or expectations.

[An] unsparingly intimate, deeply moving 11-song cycle.

Wolf Alice balances the difficult combination of seeming guilelessness and utter confidence.

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.

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.

That theme stays consistent, but our heroes are far from complacent. Indeed, much credit goes to 7L, whose inventive productions provides cannon fodder for the rappers to blast apart with witty punch lines, clever metaphors, and agile flows.

The group has expanded to four pieces for its most accomplished, most musical album yet.

Where “Butter” sounded like he downloaded every idea in his brain into the music, this is more concentrated and immersive; the 13 intricately sculptured songs inform one another and cohere into a complete work.

It’s an appealing snapshot of how Lambert has grown, and how he’s still willing to surprise his listeners and himself.

Surely someday, Of Monsters and Men, the successful, melodic pop band from Iceland, will actually burrow beneath the skin and reveal genuine depth, but the pleasures of this, their second record, remain mostly on the surface.

With Norwegian noise artist Lasse Marhaug producing, Hval walks a tightrope over melodic, sometimes lush pop music surrounded by dissonance straight out of a horror film.

Unsurprisingly, they double down on Drones to satisfying effect. That means broad strokes, big beats, and expertly placed electronic filips and vocal processing as the band explores its big themes in ways both satisfyingly corrosive, such as the speedy metal riffage of “Reapers,” and oddly saccharine, as on the somewhat corny and generic uplift of “Revolt.” Muse fares better when churning out inspiring head bangers where nuance isn’t a major factor.

FFS is more than worth the wait: a stylish, outsized romp that balances Franz Ferdinand’s gentlemanly muscle with Sparks’s adoration for the theatrical.

The knotty, gleaming structures often have hooky pop appeal (bassist Reid Anderson’s “Dirty Blonde,”), and the band can deliver an affecting ballad with brushes.

This new album, their first in four years, is a fine return to form, Emily Saliers and Amy Ray trading lead vocals and reclaiming their pristine harmonies without much fanfare.

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.”

It’s refreshing to hear Jamie xx go so widescreen.

How Big How Blue How Beautiful is a record about maneuvering around and through matters of the heart--sometimes triumphant, sometimes sad, and always deeply felt thanks to Welch acting as tour guide.

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.

Why Make Sense? is another branch of the band’s tree, an album of infectious pop riddled with bigger questions and dilemmas that ripple well beyond the dance floor.

Parker is in fine voice, and despite a few vague lyrics the songs are strong, especially when guitarist Brinsley Schwarz adds his distinctive punctuation.

It’s no slight to say there’s not much here beyond the classic songcraft, the splendor of their high-lonesome harmonies, and the way their guitars entwine and frame the songs so beautifully.

n album of movement that reaches toward the sublime.... Ratchet meanders a bit near the end, but its haze also mirrors the slow awakening that marks the end of a night spent reaching for dance-floor ecstasy.

The Desired Effect absolutely brims with pop-rock goodness, spanning several styles that are tied together by the singer’s gifts for combining an instantly memorable tune, clever turns of phrase, ace instrumentation, and his airy yet powerful voice.

His fifth solo record, after a four-year absence, is his most focused and affecting effort, accenting his funk-soul side and melodic instincts.

Funny, poignant, melodic, and warm, Miller shows that his travels have served him well as a songwriter.

If anything, these new songs are bolder showcases for the ensemble’s talents.

Harris and Crowell cowrote six of the 11 tracks, and some are polished gems, including the title track.

Simply put, Love Songs for Robots is gorgeous. It’s also mysterious; it doesn’t reveal all its layers on first listen.

If there’s an elegant groove hiding in a lost soul record, Oddisee’s found it, from the horns of “Contradiction’s Maze” to the bells of “Counter-Clockwise.”

His juxtaposition of dreamy, doors-of-perception tunes and frustrated romantic ones can feel odd, but the musical brilliance keeps the project in focus through to the angst-ridden, Harry Nilsson-like folk of “Get the Point.” Just don’t expect a light listening experience.