A dark carnival for pale shoegazers who burn up when the sun hits their papery skin, Surgery is acid rock cloaked in leather jackets and chains.

It is clear Holopaw know how to unearth beauty when grounded in the harshness of reality; they also have the wisdom to leave the indisputably beautiful moments just as they found them: ready and able to elevate the soul.

Like any good instrumental album, Maritime does its job in providing a getaway.

Sons and Daughters stand apart from their poppier counterparts with their less-produced sound and their sturdy foundation of nothing more than a chugging rhythm section, intense vocals and that awesome mandolin.

A handful of these recordings show promise, and should prove enjoyable for diehards and newcomers alike.... These standouts sadly don’t compensate for the rest of the album’s general blandness.

With its elegant simplicity, Spelled in Bones may not be concerned with being an epic, but it unwittingly becomes one; it is an album capable of stirring something greater within its audience.

Body of Song truly falters in its inability to successfully blend two sensibilities.

His best tracks are truly phenomenal, worthy of the talent he’s enlisted and speaking well of his own abilities.

Alpine Static, while inherently visceral, is also emotionally gripping.

When not so buried in dank sonics, Farrar's familiar songwriting drawl feels more crisp and lively; being able to hear the record's engaging pop hooks is a revelation. On the other hand, this newfound production clarity reveals that Farrar might be running out of ideas.

It sounds a whole lot like you’d expect the new Xiu Xiu album to sound.

The next album from the Most Serene Republic will be the real deal breaker, though; they'll have to define their role within Arts & Crafts either by diverging from the Broken Social Scene sound, or by mimicking it even more.

So much of Illinois feels magical, however, in much the same way as a large State Fair: there is commotion and wonder as the population is continually enchanted by progress, but to unknown purpose.

Clap Your Hands Say Yeah gets my pick for summertime album of the year.

We know in their perfect pop moments, Fountains of Wayne can be inspiring, but Out-of-State Plates proves that in imperfection, they can wear even the most admiring fans out.

At once introspective and indisputably catchy, their complex dynamic and easy likeability should certainly satiate the radio gods.

You’d be hard-pressed to find a music snob who can’t be won over by Cantrell’s lovely compositions.

Yes, the album sounds beautiful - there's little doubt about that - but living solely on a good sound isn't enough.

If only Embrace gave us more of the spacey, Mercury Rev-style psychedelia of "Near Life" (sans McNamara's poorly mumbled vocals), it'd be easier to forgive their lack of imagination.

X & Y is uninspired adult pop that drops jaws only in its capacity to elicit yawns.

It is immediately more slanted than their standard fare - incorporating electronic elements and seething mystery at times - but it still sounds like Teenage Fanclub, which is, on all counts, a thoroughly good thing.

Get Behind Me Satan is the first White Stripes album that sputters because it’s the first White Stripes album that tries to sell their image instead of their music.

Here Come the Tears fits nicely in Anderson and Butler's catalogs and certainly beats anything they've done in the last five years, but it makes matters clear that all they'll ever do is release clones of what they once were.

A River Ain’t Too Much To Love has more in common with great books than it does with great rock albums; it’s intelligent, introspective, sensitive and best experienced in a very quiet place.

It boasts the asset of versatility, possessing the buoyancy and charisma of a distinguishable party album whilst remaining resistant to the usual temptations associated with the so-called “lap-pop” tag.

A Certain Trigger is a strong release from its opener on, though it has noticeable shifts in momentum, with a second, rousing tour de force in its closing tracks.

The best part is that nothing feels forced or overtly formulated; every bout of vocal scatting, jazzy electric guitar coloring and organ chord arrangement seems to be the product of gradual mixing sessions.

This is the kind of headphone or background music that won’t have you looking to change discs, but won’t distract you from whatever else you’re doing, either.