As usual, though, the group are at their best when trying to come to terms with grace and beauty.

Consider Sun the start of Cat Power's new musical life.

Simply put, Themes is Pink at his most vivid.

This collaboration produces a collection of consistent but familiar tunes that seem hastily thrown together, each instrumental and vocal decision decided by the fate of a coin toss.

Woodland tunes are not rare and only a few tracks here get the heart racing and stave off a bad case of bradycardia.

It's an incandescent release that places a heavy emphasis on subterranean bass.

This is gospel-smacked, laidback music, tinseled by horns and strings and grounded in a big, big love.

Anastasis is a positively rapturous return for the Dionysus and Aphrodite of modern musical transcendence.

Bloc Party is back. Four years on the sidelines seems to have re-energized the lads-their sound is as frenetic as when they left us.

Complete with gorgeous harmonies and an intricate wall of sound that is somehow both delicate and powerful, the only thing that keeps Lieberson from succeeding outright is that most of the tracks clock in at around six minutes long.

The Dan Deacon machine returns from Bromst-land (relatively) leaner, (relatively) focused and (absolutely) teeming with sound.

Nick Weiss and Logan Takahashi sadly lack their forefathers' mastery for emotionalizing machine-made sound.

This is not your usual carbon-copy victory-lap album--it's an ambitious boundary pusher.

A 16-minute EP that has similarities to the trio's [Au Revoir Simone's] dreamy synth-pop, but takes the music into lusher, sexier '80s territory.

Grandiose, theatrical and picturesque, it's not to say the album isn't beautiful, but comes off as somewhat contrived.

Selections here appear sketch-like, but the artist's roots in post-punk drink amply despite the brevity.

While there are some lackluster renditions of Fleetwood Mac super-hits the gutsy reinventions of deeper tracks like "Silver Springs" (Lykke Li), "Straight Back" (Washed Out), "Storms" (Bonnie "Prince" Billy and Matt Sweeney) and "That's All for Everyone" (Tame Impala) remind us of what set Fleetwood Mac apart from the beginning: stellar songwriting.

All swelling organs, Teutonic strings and scathing political diatribes delivered in her winsome, insouciant vocal style.

Just put on Researching the Blues, the band's first album in 15 years, and you'll still hear their juvenile sense of romanticism and fascination with American pop culture.

Songs like "Santa Cruz" make this album fallible--they aren't as beautiful as the place and memories evoked from the titles.

Most songs manage to name drop Lewis' heart or tears in some way, but despite some melodramatic duds, Confess is still an exciting follow up from an enormous talent.

Inoffensive to the nth degree, this is a sleeping pill, not the double espresso we ordered.

Warmhearted and epic, Instinct aims for the moon--and sticks the landing.

It's Kiwanuka's staggering voice that makes you wince at its unrestrained sincerity and tenderness.

The juxtaposition of an earnest attempt at a spook with what otherwise sounds like super-weird children's songs is at least genuinely interesting, falling short of fear-inspiring, if that's what they were after.

Fang Island seems like a kickass live band, but sound somewhat scattered on headphones.

The duo shows maturation musically and lyrically, albeit wildly, proving that they are true, spirited forces to be reckoned with.

Ignore whatever purist backlash you may encounter. In Channel Orange, we have been granted a truly classic document, perhaps the very first that feels synchronized with the present decade.