At 14 tracks long, there are a few songs on Hardly Electronic that feel superfluous. But that’s a minor quibble, especially since we’ve been without new music from The Essex Green for a dozen years. ... And now, Hardly Electronic is here, and it more than makes up for lost time.

At times, the manicured production seems to be actively undermining the emotional fuse of the new-old material. ... Present-day Tegan and Sara are very much grown up, gay and alive. The record, though, could have used more of that grainy adolescent roughness.

While the 12 songs on Hello Exile don’t sonically deviate too much from the rest of The Menzingers’ previous six albums from the past decade or so, it offers a level of introspection relatively unheard in their genre. It’s an honest portrayal of where they are at this point in their life: not ready to settle down and give up the 4 A.M. nights at the dive bar down the street, but also realizing that those around them are in the process of doing so.

For all her bratty star power, Charli XCX’s purest magic lies in the intimate--not the irreverent.

Each of their albums experiment with genre, but GINGER is all over the place, never really sure what it wants to be. But moving forward, it seems pretty clear the group from that “BOOGIE” performance is a thing of the past, for better or for worse, and they’re attempting to evolve into something else. It’s just unclear if becoming the boy band of their dreams is the best use of their talents.

Xiu Xiu’s esoteric lyrics and challenging, textured sounds are part of what make them so singular as a group, but can also be overdone. OH NO’s moving moments of catharsis and uplifting hope are muted by how exhaustingly over-the-top the rest of the album feels.

A new level of vulnerability from Florence Welch and deft, atmospheric production from Emile Haynie (Lana Del Rey) makes High As Hope another album of cathedral-filling, mountain-moving sound, with Welch’s vocals the main source of power.

Very few tracks manage to claw their way out of the monochromatic haze of too similar textures, tempos, and sentiments, leading one to believe that Johnson and Molina are too perfectly paired to push each other in any new directions.

The Montreal quartet is mostly successful in this balancing act, delivering a handful of thematically-obtuse pop missiles heavy on reverb and guitar, with trademark synths still lurking low in the mix.

Where Eno falters, Byrne picks up the slack. In a first for the notoriously skeptical artist, Everything that Happens is cautiously optimistic, maybe even hopeful.

Frost captures the best aspects of one of rock’s finest eras: a balance of structured songwriting and loose grooves, catchy choruses and meandering solos, hard rocking songs and easy-going attitude.

THEESatisfaction's zoned songwriting won't earn any retrospection, but it's wonderfully reassuring that they made an album like awE naturalE--it's living proof that unique statements can still be made in those old, unstylish indie-hop tenants.

For all its production merits and accomplishment as a tasteful ‘80s electro throwback, Museum of Love’s downfall is that it’s only nine tracks (and one is a 56-second intro).

There’s a bit of guilt in sneaking a peek, a bit of unnecessary personal fluff and a few deeply held secrets that are gifts to receive. Ultimately, what’s most impressive about In the Seams is that Jones chooses to portray Saint Saviour in this way and stick with it throughout the entire record.

Vinyl collector or not, it’s ultimately the strength of Segall’s songwriting that makes this four-songer a must-have for anyone who only has, like, seven of his dozens of releases in the past five years.

Genre-bending but with a common gothic ambience throughout, Gemma Ray is equal parts story teller and musician as she skillfully intertwines a diverse collection of 12 independent chapters in the form of songs that stand strong individually, but intensify when put together.

It grapples with and effectively communicates what happens after the party, what it feels like to come down.

“Can’t Decide” and “Compensating” (featuring Young Thug) showcase Aminé’s impressive skill of making his vocals—which sway between syrupy cadences and hard-hitting verses—effortlessly melt into quirky melodies.

There's nothing Sadier's fans won't enjoy about this record. But that doesn't mean there's much to love.

Elastic Days is Mascis at his most playful and fun, further adding to one of the most accomplished back catalogues in the history of indie rock.

The gloomy and beautiful tracks on Love is the Devil may be pointing a way forward for Dirty Beaches, they may have been conceived as a spiritual complement to Drifters, or they may just be a temporary detour; whatever their intent though, their presence is a welcome addition to the Dirty Beaches catalog.

Even if nothing on here rises to the career-best heights of 2003’s Apple O’ or 2005’s The Runners Four, it’s another strong album from a band whose sheer continued existence (and refusal to bend to conventional recording standards) often feels like a triumph of absurdity in the face of encroaching hopelessness.

With Actually, You Can, these four individuals have created a celebration of human possibilities and one of their best records to date.

Tribute To may be minor in James’ catalog, but it proves surprisingly moving in its off-the-cuff run-throughs.

Parallel Play ends up being a fan’s record: one whose economy and intelligence will delight the Sloan faithful but probably won’t change the band’s fortunes or alter its trajectory with a generation raised on American Idol.

Dark Bird is a devastatingly personal listen, much more so than his stripped-down efforts.

Death Song, their fifth full-length, is both unlike anything they’ve done before and also the most purely Black Angels album they have released.

Unlike many retro-revivalist bands, they've got Hames' sassy vocals front and center, ensuring that the band's both smiling and showing its teeth.