Quality though it could be, if only the vision wasn't so occluded.

What's really amazing about Bish Bosch is that all of its myriad components are somehow pulled in to exist on the same insane planet.

Although this may not be the band's greatest work, at least it's not a parody of what was. Soak that Positive Mental Attitude up.

[Alberta Cross] appropriate the lolling blue country leanings, rock folksy aplomb and sultry gospel that kids love in Kings of Leon, and murk it up with the shrouded-cloud heaviness of their collective homelands.

An effort to be commended, but you don't have to care about global economics to enjoy the booty-shaking beats.

Just five tracks, each piece from The Mystery of Heaven resonates the way a film score does--with grandiose, cinematic, room-shaking effect.

By the end of the year, expect Harris' star to steadily rise as 18 Months continues to devour the calendar-and the universe.

'Allelujah!'s symmetrical sequencing-two 20-minute suites, two 6-minute drones-is as stark and stout as anything the band have released to date, unflinching as it stares extreme horror dead in the eye.

It's an unmistakable departure. But when her staid delivery and lyrics sink in, the artistry that draws listeners toward El Perro Del Mar comes to light.

Sure, none of us can tell the past dozen or so GBV albums from one another. But we wouldn't trade any of 'em.

Lonerism is a dense slab, and much may resist exploration on the first 5, 10, or 20 listens, but the swaths that pass through even the most garbled neural net are nourishing enough to sustain a considerable journey.

The music is nice enough, beautiful in parts, and will set a perfect mood for those who can slow down long enough to take it all in.

Fuzzy while never saccharine, Our House on the Hill dispels any notion of a sophomore slump.

In deadly seriousness, it's hardly an exaggeration to suggest you've surely never heard anything like (III).

Common throughout is a scorching sensuality that is destined to make Free Reign the soundtrack to a lot of smoldering affairs.

The Soft Moon's sophomore album Zeroes is an experimentation in industrial sound that doesn't fully hit the mark.

White-hot electro-effects romp through New Order–meets–G-funk dance beats while Diamond Rings' seductive baritone harmonizes scandals of unrequited love and ambivalent liaisons

It's a real coloring book of an idea, but too many crayons and a shaky hand have left the original images looking blurred.

The Inner Mansions succeeds when Jamison forgoes the idea of connection and works on a higher plane of thought and structure.

P.O.S. takes a page from labelmate Aesop Rock, but with less verbosity and more purpose, more swagger; the record starts slow, but good luck putting it down.

A welcome noise to these mandolin and Simon & Garfunkel–influenced days, Lost Songs is anything but: muscular songwriting, enviable melodies, ferocious playing, dazzling production.

Not for the fainthearted or short of attention, several of Psychedelic Pill's tracks drag on--wildly and intoxicatingly, of course, so there's little room for boredom to set in.

What emerges is a cathartic, theta-wave blend that could score a fighter jet skirmish over a Himalayan peak during a lightning storm and the opening montage of a siren-strobed cop show from 1985 with equal efficacy.

New listeners may not find this a better entry point than any particular album, but casual fans who have enjoyed the last four releases from the band should greet this as a welcome surprise.

Young Hunger proves that Valley can shine even on the most crowded of dance floors.

When Love and Regret sounds both old and new, both insanely derivative and sometimes transcendent, you can probably guess the rest: great introduction to a band.

More provocative and aggressive yet theatrical than any full album the moody Martha has executed to date. Brava.

Blak & Blu proves that an outstanding talent isn't predicated on having a signature song, and that the 28-year-old is worthy of the hype thrown his way.