While some of his New Orleans ilk have strayed from the region’s classic bounce sound, the lead-off title track assures us that the same old Juve is in the mix.

As always, these include gorgeous guitar playing and pristinely arranged harmonies, and the gospel-inflected moments are especially effective.

Her fourth album comes as a pleasant surprise, arguably tough country at its finest. Her clear, pristine vocals convey longing, heartbreak and the sexiness of the working class with honesty and grace.

The most engaging film characters have likeable qualities that conflict with something that’s inherently hard to stomach. Brooklyn’s TV on the Radio masterfully employ this tension in Dear Science,--apparently their major breakthrough album.

The Toronto trio's idiosyncratic blend of psychedelic rock, techno, industrial, New Age and cosmic folk has solidified into a sound that's unmistakably their own, and that doesn't depend on the theatricality of their live show to work.

A Treasure is a snapshot of an era when Young's then-label, Geffen, went to war with him for not representing himself in a commercially viable way.

The ambitious arrangements that separate this band from their moody contemporaries can actually make the album feel too emotionally intense for everyday listening.

You find yourself wishing for even one bonus track reuniting some of J Dilla's alumni artists over an unreleased beat.

Everything is worth hearing, but frenetic waltz-meets-hora dance track Comrade Z is a definite standout. This isn’t quite as fun as Gogol’s music, but it’s more thoughtful than DeVotchKa’s Gypsy punk brethren.

The grand aesthetic that makes Arcade Fire such a force is on full display. But compared to last year's plodding AF album, Reflektor, Butler gets to the point so much quicker.

The Yeah Yeah Yeahs haven’t changed as much as they’d like us to believe. They still write great pop rock songs.

Vile’s laconic drawl and laid-back guitar heroics are so addictively blissful that eight or nine minutes don’t feel like enough.

Free Your Mind is ego-free party music that will fit comfortably onto a variety of dance floors.

It never really achieves the celestial heights of Cosmic Sky, every song after the opener feeling too much like an extended comedown, but From The Ages is an essential record for anyone who likes the sound of guitars sounding like guitars.

Thorn succeeds through low-key, simple arrangements and her empathetic, sensible voice, which has the all-seeing authority of a storybook narrator.

Some Nights could be the breakthrough album that propels Fun. to the arenas where their lack of self-restraint will finally make sense.

Flux Outside flies by effortlessly and still leaves you with choruses you'll be singing to yourself long after the disc ends.

Treading territory similar to Wilco's and working with producer Thom Monahan, they layer drum machine, vintage keyboard, organs and strings atop acoustic folk-rock textures and Cabic's soothing vocals.

Dan Auerbach’s production helps shape that drama, but he’s accurately interpreting her vision rather than directing Del Rey, who suddenly seems completely in control of her brand.

While the Marshall Mathers LP sputtered toward the end, the sequel gets better past the halfway mark.

The SOLs are skilled at crafting songs rooted in striking specificity.

Her evocations to dance, be present and claim space are the most potent and political moments.

The wild, bludgeoning crest of the album’s centre gives way to the soft, yellowing bruises of its final third, revealing that the band can be just as disarmingly potent and complex even while exhibiting the utmost restraint.

The music sounds slightly repetitive on its own, so he’s smart to collaborate with vocalists.

Side A is mostly introspective threats, neurotic boasting and paranoia about enemies. Side B is the same but with a focus on women and his love life. As with most of his releases, it works perfectly--but for 25 tracks to work is undeniably impressive.

While clearly her most varied album to date, it still sounds decidedly Mirah: DIY folk singer/songwriter of the 90s with that heartbreaking voice and a knack for killer guitar melodies.

There's nothing cerebral about her lyrics; she's a captivating, blunt performer, here emphasizing classic arrangements and raw emotion over poetic invention.

While moments on Vapor City might have sounded completely at home at a 1996 rave, the mood and sound overall are more wistfully nostalgic than retro.