The roominess and the variety are what make this album so interesting.

It's a wise, mature labyrinth of an album that's both filled with vibrant life and haunted by death.

With her experiences and experimentation, she has combined and refined her sound to make it something that is similar and yet totally separate from anything she’s done before. St. Vincent isn’t afraid of being different or taking risks, and thinks we shouldn’t be either.

It’s that sonic gluttony that makes Holter’s production an alluring tryst that’s hard to let go of come curtain call.

["Be Above It"] sets the tone for an album that follows closely in the sonic footsteps of its predecessor while occupying a more streamlined headspace.

And if you are a big fan of the band-and if you invested in the reissue, that's probably a given--this will give you hours of quality material to get lost in. But if you're not super familiar with the band, aside from being able to identify that Corgan is that vampiric-looking bald guy, then use this reissue as an excuse to revisit--or just visit--this album.

The result is a beautifully poignant and cinematic album, a post-hardcore masterpiece.

You’ll be hard pressed to find another album that’s this much fun to crawl inside.

Too Bright is a near immaculate work. It’s bold but vulnerable and finds Hadreas taking risks in structure, content and sound.

It's a complex listen that strays from the tropes of standard R&B.

Unbound by convention, Daft Punk seamlessly included whatever the hell they wanted on this record. Not just because they’re musically sublime robots from a future of hovercrafts and Judy Jetson discotheques, but because Daft Punk knows when to edit and when to fall free.

This is very much her record-it's a fractured gorgeousness, with Garbus embracing her oddness in a gesture of self-love that results in an alarming, startling, fun and playful record.

A clean, laid-back production and ambitious lyrical themes.

Written and recorded herself, Are We There, her fourth full-length, is a Sharon Van Etten record through-and-through.

Where For Emma, Forever Ago thrived on its sparseness, the new record's sound is richly and carefully layered.

It's definitely not pop-more like battery acid-but in such talented hands, chaos becomes catchy.

Of the two rappers here, Killer Mike gets the most quotable lines, turning simple statements into punchlines and investing each syllable with a sense of rhythmic possibility.... Despite abandoning some of the more layered and mannered production flourishes of his solo work, El-P still packs these songs with stray details--the roar of a tiger, those gorgeous organs, the squeal of a dolphin--that can be jarring on first listen but gradually reveal themselves to be essential.

Everything feels full and complete, with each song taking a life of it’s own, while still contributing equally as much to the larger concept.

Space Is Only Noise is a paradox. It's a dance album that can't be danced to, a lounge album that you actually want to listen to, but most importantly, it's an electronic album with emotion.

LP1 takes the humid isolation of Twigs’ EP1 and EP2 and twists it into ten tracks of relationship Hail Marys. But there’s a subdued sense of strength running under Barnett’s pleas that translates into a dark confidence, and in that tension is where LP1 finds its best moments.

The record is engineered so that he never has to. Listen past the last track and be introduced to Acid Rap all over again as a voice promises on loop that it’ll be “Even better than the last time.”

To hear the band members tell it, David Comes To Life is the record they've been working up to for the past 10 years, a grandiose statement that closes off the first chapter of Fucked Up's history. It's anybody's guess as to how they'll follow something like this, but we're already excited for chapter two.

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.

It would be incorrect to say that the duo is pushing “weird” to its sonic limits; “curiosity,” mostly in the space of the extremes of human personality, would be most apropos.

Whether he’s softly plucking away or spinning a complicated web of chords, Tyler’s music is transportive in the sense that it can offer an escape from just about anywhere.

In between the soul-searching, Fleet Foxes cranks out some pretty great singalong songs. And that's what it's all about, isn't it?

As Phosphorescent continues to evolve as a project, widening its range and sharpening its lyrical acumen, that commitment has become more apparent, culminating in his best album yet.

Instead of feeling like a testing ground for a series of wild experiments, White has crafted a collection of hushed character sketches worthy of Randy Newman or Bill Callahan.

There’s no twist ending here--just another excellent Boards Of Canada album.

Sadly, Dan Bejar tuned down the distinctive cross-hatch in his vocals that has made skin crawl with delight, but, as has remained unchanged for over a decade, his continental blues are heard in his quick-witted lyrics; the lovely laments of Kaputt are full of tongue-in-cheek nuances.

Rossen's sprawling pop coupled with his subtly personal lyrics gives the album a bittersweet flavor that makes for some very impressive moments.

While Light Up Gold's re-release is quite literally nothing new, it's sure to garner a rash of deserved credit this time around, opening Parquet Courts to a wider audience that can further foster the appreciation of this excellent album.

Despite the brainy, composer-like attention to detail and El-P's complicated lyrics, this is still music imbued with a bracing sense of physicality. It's great stomping music.

With Sister Faith, their fourth album in nine years, Coliseum offers up its most palatable set of tunes yet, a continuation of the dirty-pop paradigms set in place by 2010’s House With A Curse, and the Parasites EP released the following year.

On a superficial level, Trouble Will Find Me, the National’s latest full-length LP, probably won’t convert any listeners who’ve written off the band’s music as boring.... Of course, the power’s in the poetics, and Berninger concocts some truly heart-wrenching images this time around.

A listless cloud of heartbreak penetrates every crack and many moments teeter on the maudlin, but The Worse Things Get has fight, too.

Vampires Of The Modern City stands to become the group’s Paul’s Boutique, raising the bar from being a fun but safe band to breaking ground ahead of their peers.

Wondervisions, its lyric-less debut full length, does not fall short on its abilities to stir emotion.

They expand upon the thrills of the last record with acerbic aplomb, catching us unaware with hooks and then relentlessly, lovingly, plugging away at the daily, death-y grind.

Carrion Crawler/The Dream could very well be born from a desire to please crowds as easily as it could be Dwyer wanting to craft jams as musical meditation.

[Slaughterhouse is] a master's thesis of reverb, crafted by an electric orator who, more and more, finds the pithiest ways to worship the guitar as instrument, drug and weapon.

The most resonant part of Doi Todd's music is the quiet darkness that she twists into an undercurrent of tenderness. Cosmic Ocean Ship is more openly joyous than other songs on previous albums, like 2008's Gea, and perhaps not as "mysterious" or grabbing.

Harmonicraft isn't just the best Torche release: It's a contender for one of the best loud rock releases of the year.

Mohawke and Lunice prove that you can strike a perfect balance between experimentation and restraint.

July’s strongest points come when Nadler has the most room to stretch her vocal muscles.

With The Odds, the Evens have perfected the model of what we may consider post-post-punk: simple messages, tight instrumentation-this is grown-up grunge.

It's just a little too long and continuous to listen to in one setting.

At 19 tracks, Old can get a little taxing, as if Brown, in an effort to be expansive, just decided to be everything all at once.... But you’ll forget about that once you realize that Handstand‘s beat is a dizzying tornado of synth and buzz that’s unlike anything you’ve heard before.

I Hate Music isn’t a missive on being an aging rocker as much as it’s reflective of the wisdom and maturity garnered as a touring band in what is too often--and outright mistakenly*--only considered the realm of the young and starry-eyed. Only Superchunk does it with the same unstoppably jaunty bounce and screaming guitars that defined (No Pocky For Kitty) and redefined (Majesty Shredding) their still palpable sound and made them leaders in their genre

Although there aren't any obvious standout hits here, that's not what FlyLo intended to create. Instead, Until The Quiet Comes blends together into a lush electronic soundscape you can daydream to.

The music is unlike anything Cloud Nothings has done before, and that's a good thing.

In all, this is a muscular yet not flashy outing from Gang Gang Dance, and its smooth confidence is a welcome respite from its self-indulgent neighbors.

Cave's noisy, dentist-drill guitar work is still prominently featured, but occasionally it takes on pedal-warped psychedelic tones as the songs stretch out beyond the band's typical garage-rock template.

Some might listen to Fear Fun and hear a man feeling sorry for himself, but with melodies so sweet and sentiments so comically self-loathing, this album won't suffocate you with sadness.

At certain points in Nikki Nack, like the track Manchild, her quirkiness feels out of reach, but it always comes back down again to teach you a little something about life, love and letting creativity shine through.

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

Black Up is a wild ride, but Butler's songwriting is not haphazard. To be sure, his laid-black flow channels a vibe similar to the who-cares attitude of those on the opposite side of the left-field hip-hop divide, but don't let that fool you; his music is weird, but it's also deliberate.

Through it all, the energy and attitude is unchanged. And although the band’s themes seem even more specifically focused, this album is really for anyone who’s ever felt held back.

LV's skill and savvy when it comes to crafting spotlight-gobbling beats presents the biggest drawback for the album in that it's disappointing that there's not one instrumental number on Sebenza.

TV On The Radio has become less animalistic, less apocalyptic, less conflicted -- and more loving, more comfortable, more soulful.

Thrice's latest, Major/Minor, is one of those elusive, much-needed types of LPs: urgent, aching and filled with heaviness-like pouring-liquid-steel-into-a-cast-iron-mug-and-chugging-it-straight heavy.

It's a real relief, then, to hear METZ's self-titled debut, a tight set of 10 gut-punch punk songs that, in 30 minutes, delivers the type of catharsis we've been lacking.

The band has crafted something surprising: a poignant, reflective hard-rock album that straddles the divide between '70s classic rock ambition and '90s alt-rock theatrics.

It's too cavernous and intangible to dance to but too wired for relaxation.

Pallett’s vocals that move from soft quiver to full tenor on the title track. And when paired with his simple pop tendencies, the intricacies are easy to absorb. All you have to do is listen.

An audacious compilation of carefully arranged instrumentals under reflective lyrics.

With its multiple parts, its recurring motifs and its thematic hutzpah "USA" isn't easy to parse or process, but it's not impenetrable; Deacon remains committed to pop forms and rock songwriting despite his concert-hall inclinations.

Floating Coffin sees Dwyer and company pulling off another successful paradigm shift, a step toward the sinister but with ample amounts of the flower-power charm that made them such favorites among psych snobs in the first place.

Clash Battle Guilt Pride sees Polar Bear Club's likable mix of working-class suburban punk and arena rock getting glossier production.

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.

While Fade's sleepy charms can appear slight when compared to the canonical totems in the band's back catalog, it's best to remember that this is a record about serenity, endurance and mortality.

A bright artist displaying skill and youthful eagerness--no shtick.

Earl’s skills are incontestable, but at times, it feels like he has nothing to prove. Doris could have resulted in one big shrug fest, if it weren’t for the ferocity in Earl’s bars--which is probably all the leverage he needs.

Piñata might be long, but it moves fast.

There might appear to be a hodge-podge mish-mash of genres here, with artist credits ranging from U.K. funk producer Lil Silva to hip-hop’s heady Ghostpoet (who’s Season Change with Doucoura is another album stand-out), but the blending of these somewhat disparate sounds is seamless.

This is why Blue Rider is so enjoyable: even while it pulls you in, you’ll still feel like you’re listening to it alone. That might sound like an aloof move by Cale, but it’s really just an expression of that feeling that comes with being en route.

Familiars‘ ultimately succeeds in delivering the third consecutive full-length gem from the Antlers.

While it may not be a distinct step forward creatively, the blue-collared Allentown, PA, quartet has managed another solid effort that maintains its edge.

Though her lyrics are incoherent, Barwick tells a story on this album that is up for interpretation depending on the listener as if Barwick created the music just for her.

From Africa With Fury: Rise is a solid sampling of Afrobeat, and if Kuti's goal is to show that his father's influence was not wasted on him, he succeeds brilliantly.

While the record might have benefited from some more discrimination on the cutting room floor, it's still a focused, complete record and a pleasurable listen.

Blake’s best moments on Overgrown occur when he finds that balance between the upbeat hip-hop rhythms and the down-tempo acoustics that so brilliantly parallel his voice.

While frontwoman Jehnny Beth’s theatrics take up most of the listener’s attention, it’s the rhythmic duo of drummer Fay Milton and bassist Ayse Hassan that keeps the band on track

Despite the length of the album, it’s gratifying to cup your hands over your eyes and squint into Vile’s self-effacing and self-reflexive world. There’s something invigorating about hearing a mind loop back on itself in constant pursuit of a question it never even knew it asked.

In between the tape hiss, the nature sounds, the subtle reverb, the sighs, it becomes clear that Bad Vibes has a soul.

The album is deceptively simple, but underneath the easy-listening vibe lies a fascinating medley of genres and musical references.

This album is clearly not one you would want to put on in the background of your next party. In every aspect (its forms, melodies, instrumentation, etc.) it is a challenging and engaging hour of music.

Every track on Tramp provides a singularly rewarding experience in one way or another. Only the album's pacing weakens its impact as a whole.

In the end, Oh No brings life back to Moore and his Dolemite legacy.

Thematically, the album is rich and varied, but there is a slight inability to maintain a through-line musically that can prove to be jarring on occasion.

Nothing on Settle is left wanting. Disclosure’s debut full-length, after a series of tight and well-curated EPs, has high points as high as any record this year.

There's a studio slickness and a consistent attention to detail here-crisp hand claps, crystal-clear acoustic guitar strumming, clean drums-that most contemporary garage-rock bands have little interest in.

A solid road map of new found diversity and eclecticism is laid out throughout a large chunk of They Want My Soul, and despite the inevitable growing pains, Spoon really does seem poised to continue rising from the ashes of their near disappearance.

The music achieves a throbbing equilibrium halfway through each track, which makes it easy to zone out. So maybe this is just great zone-out music.

They’ve clearly set out to be innovators not duplicators, and Cold Spring Fault Less Youth is yet another one of their projects that crosses electronic music boundaries and produces something extraordinary.

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.

Cut 4 Me ends leaving the listener with a dizzying feeling and a cooly slowed pulse. Now we have expectations.

Burst Apart is smart and calculated without feeling as though you're being duped by artificial feelings.