Sure, the societal spying and corruption Reznor forecast in The Slip has played out, but Hesitation Marks is a triumphal I-told-you-so, still whispering for rebellion.

Repave is not just an album created in the interim of Bon Iver releases, but a project that weaves something together that has been there all along. In that sense, the album is both unfettered and cinematic.

The polished sheen on each track dulls any inquisition into what (or who) is behind this music. That said, there is an undeniable human brilliance at the album’s core, and the tension of those aspects makes it an irresistible listen.

Although airing also-ran tracks, Belle and Sebastian have proven their idiosyncratic voices shout the loudest.

Right Action finds Franz Ferdinand embracing their seductive musical strengths, but this time, the usually emotionally charged tracks drenched in lust, loathing and sarcasm are replaced with lyrics blessed by the priceless gift of hindsight.

A well-produced and sunnier combination [of Aerial Ballet and Sunflower].

At times, Nika Roza Danilova’s opera-trained voice sounds overly formal against the string-only instrumentation. But the compositions benefit from her willingness to shed her electro goddess skin.

The lyrics on Carrier stand as the most meaningful in their catalog, making their newest album stand once again as the band’s best yet.

These post-punk/new-wave tracks rumble by with a forcefulness not heard since the ’80s. Soak up the gleaming destruction.

Superchunk continues fishing for perfection--and, as always, the band brings the hooks.

Appropriately, the Brooklyn ambient-musician’s incandescent-yet-stentorian release acts as a warm and pacifying salve for the heartbroken and exultant alike.

Think Aqualung on codeine, sans flute, swapping vagrants for couch potatoes.

Everything comes together, creating an album as deep and wide as the vistas it conjures up.

In short, the band brilliantly harks back to the nearly forgotten art of blissful pop.

As soon as the first bright notes of An Object wave you over to the album’s distorted incandescence, you realize that something is going on.

Drenched in echoed vocals and layered synth lines, Howlin maintains an incredibly optimistic, carefree tone.

Gogol Bordello’s incomparable brand of swaggering gypsy punk hasn’t lost a whit of its euphoric urgency.

Paracosm is a beautiful, beautiful album.

Los Angeles–based Superhumanoids explore life’s dichotomies with the sonically atmospheric Exhibitionists, illustrating the contrast between the masculine and feminine aspects of human relationships through vocals, lyrics and instrumentation.

Its inability to be contained within one genre is the band’s strength and triumph.

II is the perfect 21st-century escape from so much banal guitar music.

It comes on slow, seeping into your memory through dusty riffs as expansive as Texas plains.

Although there are moments on the album that, despite its ambition, simply feel like fool’s gold, others—like the honky-tonk-slash-futura-disco of “Phantom Rider”--shine like veritable gold flakes.

It’s not perfect, but strong songwriting philosophy like this deserves to be noted and heard.

Uninhibited and jubilant as it is fully realized, Cedermark might be sturdier than he lets on.

Their self-titled LP has the troupe’s familiar indie-“folk”-meets-psychedelia soundings, yet adds some new wrinkles.

After two impressive EPs for Tri Angle, his debut Without Your Love continues to thrive on subterranean nighttime pleasures.

Ceremony, the second record from Anna von Hausswolff, buffets us with a cold, yawning beauty.