The songs on this soundtrack document a community of artists, as they picked up speed creatively. Cornell stood out then for his talent and work ethic and abundant artistic energy.

His third solo album is a subdued sonic adventure compared to some of his more frenzied output.

Spin is enjoyable, but inessential.

From a conceptual standpoint, Darnielle has achieved an exclusive analysis of the brooding would-be darkwaver, though the brilliance of the inside jokes could fall on deaf, pale ears here.

Relaxing as it may be, the album works best as vague metaphor, affording the listener room to infer, interpret and apply personal meaning, independent of any direction by Hartley.

With almost every track featuring very direct first person, Life After Youth is an extremely personal collection from Powell, but with some help from her friends and collaborators Sharon Van Etten, The Besnard Lakes, Steve Shelley (Sonic Youth) and Sal Maida (Roxy Music/Sparks), she has not only made the best record of her career, it’s also one of the strongest solo releases from any past or present Broken Social Scene members.

Although Endless Summer shines a light over the dark veil Sóley’s previously worn, its lyrics retain plenty of their solemnity.

It’s far more organic than any of the prefab productions that dominate the airwaves these days. The backing horns and sprightly pacing keep the music sounding effortless and bewitching, a traditional approach that’s been part of LaFarge and his namesake band’s signature sound.

Love & War starts off quite strong. ... The back half of the album with “selfie” and his Timbaland collabs is pure chaff, the kind of filler that a major label artist can afford to get away with.

The result is a new record that has the warmth, remembrance and intimacy of a photo album, one with which Cahoone charmingly invites you to get to know her a little better.

An undeniably hooky record that strays from its grunge-rock roots and finds the band in a place where they’ve found the fun in their craft once again.

Though rich with references to the past and drawing on the timeless Hi work of his mentor, Willie Mitchell, with Al Green, Don’t Give Up on Love feels improbably fresh, suggesting one of those outlandish Hollywood fantasies in which the hero gets a do-over of his life.

As with many of the bands they take after, Hoops don’t offer a ton of variation from track to track. It’s the subtle shifts that keep Routines interesting.

This bedroom project shakes with a gentle reverb and the snapping beats and upbeat percussion she programs using a drum machine. What connects Murray to her peers in Look Blue Go Purple are the similarly earnest lyrics, psychedelic dreaminess and low key production quality made modern with synths and other electronic touches.

Each track is an excellent pop song and a complete sound environment, the sonic equivalent of a sensually immersive art installation.

The tracks on async are more often gentle sighs of relief suffused with a reawakened wonderment at the beauty of simple sounds created by man made instruments and the natural world.

If Versus communicates anything--and it communicates a lot, sometimes too much--it’s an examination of the linear relationship between producer and listener, a warning for the artist against the magnetic allure of pontification.

What the world needs now, more than ever, is an album as valiant and compassionate, satirical and sensitive as Pageant.

Each one is charming and sturdy and well put together, evidence of an artist who is at the very top of his game and ready to reach even higher. Here’s looking forward to Volume 2.

In Spades carries a few more of the maniacal stretches that have marked the band’s most interesting moments, especially in the use of Dulli’s voice.

Shelley’s light is absolutely irrepressible. She is a tremendous talent, poised for a long and productive career in folk music, with a breakthrough into much bigger things very easy to envision.

Slowdive, the band’s first album in 22 years, is here, and it’s good in that pleasingly familiar way.

in•ter a•li•a is frankly as promising an album as we can hope to expect from a group of guys who set the bar and then ran away from it 17 years back.

The immediacy of the melodies--simpler and scrappier than she’s written in years--paired with the snarl of the arrangements, gives Pussycat a rumbling, cathartic honesty ideal for the anger of our times.

Pollinator their 11th album, is fun, imaginative and quintessentially Blondie--it’s punk’s “good old days” retooled for a wretched century.

There really isn’t room to talk about a lot of things--each subject they approach is weighty and broad enough on its own--but on Snow, The New Year takes those dark, hidden feelings and makes them joyous.

The album (somewhat) finds itself towards its end, where Goddard’s sonic explorations and falsetto, paired with simple drum work, are better suited.

Tonally, Feist exposes a storm of feeling on Pleasure, probing an abyss of her own confusion, lack of trust in others and self-imposed isolation, and yet also a core tendency to love and care.