Everyday Robots, unfolds as a sleepy, melancholy culmination of all Albarn’s work so far. And if sweat still isn’t showing, a little distress is.

Shriek is a refreshing dive into the ambiguous depths of the indie-pop pool, made possible by two musicians who have shown great conviction in revamping their sound without ditching the fundamentals that have made them such a powerhouse.

Though the pure, dripping niceness of the album can start to feel dusty after a while, the constant effect of washing prevents that.

No matter where TEEN decide to turn, they have to be commended for their creativity in conceiving such an other-worldly record.

A middle ground is still to be reached, but at the least, Plague Vendor is proof that even in these times of combos called Dancing, Girls, and the Teen Age, one can come up with an intriguing band name, matched to music that also begs for further investigation.

Their lyrics of heartbreak, being pissed off and the eventual willingness to admit when they make mistakes has made us feel all the while, they’ve just gotten better at saying it.

This duo continues to develop without forfeiting the high-energy antics that have earned them such a reputable DIY name.

That sweetness is exactly what we need after devouring the indulgent, carb-heavy, extra-sauce sound that is Drop, and (at the risk of allowing this metaphor to spiral further), we leave feeling totally satisfied and craving more at the same time.

The band’s tendency to venture into festival-ready rhythms and guitar noodling has remained an integral constant on their releases. With Light And With Love is no exception, but it also finds the band exercising their unique roots-pop expertise to an even deeper effect than before.

Tremors makes it clear that he has plenty of his own material to work on. His reliable vocals lead us through the enjoyable confusion that the album establishes, ever cool and whole-hearted, with a genuine sense of emotional investment.

It strikes you that the band’s songwriting, Battle’s vocal command, and the musical muscle is effortlessly melded. Which then has you heading back to the beginning of the record and realizing they’d hooked you from that very first tune.

The Slasher House is like going to one of those haunted cornfield mazes around Halloween time. As you sneak through the maze, things are a little scary, and you’re not always sure what will happen next. But it’s exciting, fun, and once you realize you obviously will make it out alive, you want to keep going back in.

On the whole, So It Goes covers a wide range of ground musically, sometimes making it hard to comprehend as a cohesive piece in its entirety. By doing so however, Ratking has made a rap album that is truly fitting for the modern New York.

he album is as much seductive as it is creepy, with hollow and haunting sonic gestures that together compose an alternate universe ambience.

The ease with which you can get lost inside Range Of Light is no dismissable feat.

There’s a sense of maturity and control present, without losing their trademark edge.

You can enjoy Salad Days for its unadorned flow and easygoing weirdness, or you can stop, reflect and be moved by its fresh honesty. It’s worthwhile either way.

The issue on here is that not enough tracks combine both of these two, cool, newfound elements--Kinsella’s vocal and lyrical growth and the expert jamming that surfaces throughout.

The album’s strongest moments come when Felice settles on his deep, lush baritone and considers using it in favor of poetic lyrics or complex instrumentation.

We know that there’s still plenty of life and love and pain to come, but we’re pretty okay with it. In fact, we’re ready to hit the road and let Lost In The Dream pull us in again and again.

Sonically, the capricious trio has brought about a fresh positive energy while still delving into the darkness that has always been present throughout their career.

Hauschka’s ingenuity to rework his instrument into a entire orchestra is astounding. But his ability to avoid the usual, overtly romantic notions of forgotten cities and instead replace it with a portrait of refined desolation is equally impressive.

Simply put, their sound has organically reached a more developed state. Each song brings something new to the table with few tunes just bleeding together.

Piñata might be long, but it moves fast.

It seems breathy, angelic, and narcoticized is the default setting for indie rock female singers these days. And we may also need to reel in that trend too. But hey, if it ain’t broke... Which it is not on It’s Alive.

For now, this band’s M.O.--Graves’ machine gun mouth racing the bands’s nerve-strung music to the finishing line of each 113 plus/minus-second blast--is welcome in the currently, often drowsy world of indie guitar music.

Float through this album right when you wake up or right before you go to sleep. Either way, it’ll calm you down and make you think.

This latest iteration of gauzy grrrl garage rock does the sound right by tightening the hooks and adding more forceful rhythm.