Jackson Browne fans will be extremely satisfied with this set, one that Browne himself must surely be smiling upon.

With Here And Nowhere Else, they’ve thrown the first punch, and it hits you square in the jaw.

The bottom line is, these guys have always just wanted to rock, and Himalayan is the first album that doesn’t let them.

The songs are fast and short; the energy throughout the album is infectious and continuous--which helps to not overwhelm with its cranked-to-11 setting and should have most eager and willing to keep coming back.

Not merely a product of maturity, Nickel Creek has grown without losing its palpable joy or wondrous ability to make musicianship as accessible as the engaging way their voices draw listeners to them.

The music never seems to come from a place of desire to convey something true or honest from within DeMarco, but instead it paints variations of past emotions, interpret others’ honesty, gives a distorted remembrance of the past for a more entertaining present.

Over nine songs, Carey crafts a number of bright, warm, sweeping moments that fit with the album’s theme of the American West, land of exploration and possibility.

Ultimately, Just Because sounds like an almost-redefined version of The Belle Brigade, which is an impressive feat for a relatively new band. It’s just a little surprising that such a sad record can sound so blissfully blasé.

The expansive tracklisting makes for a CD-era 70+ minute listening experience. You can appreciate the varied approach that John and Bernie Taupin brought to the studio with the balladry (“Candle In The Wind,” surprisingly not a US-charting song), the ballsy (“Saturday Night’s Alright For Fighting”) and the busy (“Funeral For A Friend (Love Lies Bleeding)”) even if the results led to a less-than-cohesive album on the whole. As with many Elton John albums, there are hidden gems to be found.

As easy as it is to enjoy, there is something fleeting in its pleasures, as if it isn’t quite complete without occupying the same spaces as the band.

Teeth Dreams is the first time since Boys & Girls in America that The Hold Steady toes that perfect line between adolescent, backseat make-out sessions and stoned, intellectual discourse on the human condition.

Odludek does its job well enough as it pulses forward, though it strangely doesn’t stick as deeply as you might expect.

Half of the tracks on World Of Joy don’t even crack three minutes. It certainly validates the album’s garage-punk ethos, but at the same time, it barely gives Howler enough time to prove itself on its second album.

Ages and Ages have undergone lineup changes and lots of peripheral personal battles and have somehow managed to internalize and later deduce how to navigate the avenues of their own lives in triumphant--and insanely memorable--song. In the process, they’ve come out with one of this year’s best all-around albums.

Its coda features a lone, breathy synth that unfurls like a tattered flag planted high atop a snow-covered peak, and, like the band’s best work, the song is comparable to little else in the pop/indie landscape—a far cry from the tepid feel that permeates too much of this Mess.

La Dispute picked a perfect time to make a classic album in the post-hardcore spectrum that might be considered a classic outside of genre, too.

After the band’s album-by-album leaps in musical ability and acumen, it’s no surprise finding this much talent behind the band’s jokey exterior, but when they employ it in fresh ways, The Coathangers can sound like an entirely different band.

Lucius’ infectious melodies, keen self-awareness and shameless authenticity sweep through all 11 songs, making Wildewoman one of the most complete indie pop LPs this year.

Underneath the Rainbow finds the band straying from that place. Black Lips were probably the last band you’d expect to sound complacent, and now it’s becoming difficult to remember what made them so special in the first place.

Lost in the Dream pushes rock music forward.

The crux is the album’s smothering, reverb-heavy, more-is-more production style, which smooths over some of the off-kilter quirks that made Torches’ sprawl so alluring.

It’s an album that rewards close listening. Awake, though, doesn’t feel like much of an evolution for Hansen or his music.

The eight-song release is a runaway train, screaming down the tracks but controlled enough that it never runs off the rails.

It’s that refusal to paint in a single shade that makes The Take Off... such a fully formed listen from front to back.

While “Never Wanna Know” might divide, other moments are harder to dismiss.

With The Drop Beneath, Eternal Summers aren’t pushing the envelope in the same sense that some of their peers are, but that’s not a bad thing. They don’t need to.

It’s a quietly sublime work from a group of musicians who have always insisted--via their straight-up goofy music videos, Budweiser references and substitute teacher-like appearances--they’re just average suburbanites.

It’s another glorious achievement for an artist who has created so much amazing art since arriving into the world fully formed way back in 1982.