Loom seems to touch upon many periods within the extensive annals of indie pop, but Fear of Men put their own stamp with smart, modish pop tunes that intend to make sorrow, in the face of uncertainty, sound invigorating.

Two is a gem amongst the labyrinthine post-Cap’n Jazz projects.

Under Color of Official Right is built with a steely fortitude, treating its subjects with respect and bluntness even if there’s nary a hopeful or comforting prospect to look forward to.

Salad Days is a testament to love at its most selfless and pure as much as it is the fear of holding on to it.

Perfect Pussy constantly find new ways to stimulate that teenage bit of your brain that wants to scream and punch things and has a lot of things to say but doesn’t know how to say them.

Cloud Nothings might still be young and quite indebted to their 90’s influences, but their latest shows they’ve already mastered all the qualities of a truly great rock band and all of their contradictions: fury, angst, precision, sloppiness, catchiness and, of course, fun.

Teeth Dreams on its own sounds like a transitional record, compelling in spots but nevertheless unfulfilling.

Forcefield chiefly sounds more relaxed and natural, fully letting go of the stilted verses and swift tempos they’ve been gradually forgoing ever since A Lesson in Crime made such an immediate splash.

While there are plenty of technical elements to recommend it, The Classic just lacks that indefinable quality that would make you return to it repeatedly.

Now seven albums deep into their career, Liars remain a lasting and distinguished presence, one that continues to question the confinement of genre and fashions their identity around a refusal to do so.

Although the record’s themes are well-worn, her approach to sound remains pure.

Hansen has appropriated this kind of self-reflective, blissful IDM with skilled craft, but when the final result is too inwardly focused and monolithic you wish he’d let out a bit more.

Listening to it can be exhaustive, particularly during its clumsier second half, in which the narratives are duller (particularly Dossier), the musical progressions more stagnant (422). It’s undeniable, though, that this is a very original, fruitful record

Granduciel apparently spent hours going over and over tracks as they were developed from their demo stage into full blown band pieces, occasionally completely abandoning latter versions to return to the demos, and that was the case with album standout track An Ocean In Between The Waves-it looks like an inspired decision.

Those who love the group for their approach to melodicism and big hooks will find a lot to love about Tomorrow’s Hits, but those who still long for the group’s noisier days will only be further repelled and forced to stick with their first two albums.

MØ might have just released the freshest, most joyful pop record of 2014 (even if we heard most of it in 2012-3).

A work of faultless skill and assured sophistication, The Take Off and Landing of Everything positions Elbow as one of the most quietly ambitious and rewarding acts of our generation.

With a perfect combination of loose noise and tight melody, Eagulls’ self-titled debut puts the group on the fast track to be taken seriously, even compared to peers on their third or fourth try.

G I R L sounds like the work of a much less interesting artist. But if Pharrell’s goal was to bring happiness to his listeners and vibrant tunes to the charts, then by all means he’s fulfilled his goal.

How long this approach will remain fresh or whether Hoiberg can maintain the quality of his productions after the novelty wears off are questions for later records. For now, enjoy Wedding Bells. It was made for no other purpose.

Oxymoron is definitely not the game changer many thought it might be, but it's yet another very good addition to the combined Black Hippy legacy.

As simple and unchallenging as Atlas is, it’s undoubtedly the group’s most emotionally resonant album, both sonically and lyrically, even if Real Estate chooses to unleash them in a diminutive sigh rather than a fearsome roar.

The earlier albums were hyper and hi-energy affairs whereas Jumping The Tracks is more measured and has a more constructed feel.

With this latest (and perhaps last) album, it’s still true to say that Xiu Xiu haven’t delivered a wholly complete work, but then it probably wouldn’t be a Xiu Xiu record if it was.

While lyrically ponderous and sometimes grim, (“Am I a waste of life?/I ask the night”), Hubba Bubba satisfies an impulse pleasantly.

The wondrous sonic beauty of Morning Phase sheds light into Hansen’s otherwise absence of presence, so when the swelling, cinematic strings of Cycle open the record, it’s as if we’re surrounded by an omnipotent being coming down from the heavens.

That’s the wonder of St. Vincent. It’s a personal album that’s well-written enough to provide something we can all identify with.

The good news, at least, is that Phantogram have made a solid album. The bad news is that it spans across their two LPs with plenty of forgettable filler in between.