While Shotter’s Nations contains some of the brightest spots we have seen from Doherty in several years, there remains a few songs with wasted potential.

Everything else on the album acquits itself with varying degrees of resonance.

Sky Full of Holes finds Fountains of Wayne back at the top of their game.

Good stuff, and it sounds raw as hell.

As an Alan Jackson album, Freight Train is so consistently likable that it makes me imagine that he might keep getting better over time, as well.

It tops a fine collection that reveals the kind of production and songwriting progress that every band which treads water should aspire to.

Dracula is the sort of successful experiment that comes along too infrequently in modern pop music.

In the Rainbow Rain is unapologetic and adventurous; through it, Sheff and Co. don't ask us to ignore the world's problems, just to keep dancing in spite of them.

The gimmickry of Moon’s music does prevent his debut from ever being labeled as great art, but it certainly doesn’t prevent it from being one of 2013’s most ecstatic, all-out fun albums.

Sigh No More inspires evangelism through sheer force of will. Between Mumford's gripping wail and the Sons' whirlwind revelries, it's a revival hard to resist.

Midwinter Graces is 12 tracks long, a perfect length, and most of the production is spot-on.

With his melodic knack and thrift-shop-debonair retro charm, Jones posits himself as a promising understudy to the similarly-inclined Britpop group Pulp.

Iif you’re looking for some pop perfection, this album displays it in droves.... However, things take a huge tumble when Years & Years try not to stick to their confessional-electronic niche.

On A Reality Tour, Bowie proves that love is well-earned.

This won’t be the album that turns on a legion of new fans, but that’s exactly the point: Def Leppard is fan service for the hordes of glam metal acolytes that have stuck by the band throughout their ill-fated transgressions and experimentation.

And It's Still Alright is a Rateliff record, and although he is joined by violinist Tom Hagerman, bassist Elijah Thomson, keyboardist Daniel Creamer, steel guitarist Eric Swanson, and guitarist Luke Mossman (and two drummers), the music sounds intimate as if it is just Rateliff speaking one to one with the listeners.

At its best, Time to Melt is a promising collection of seductive post-indie grooves. At its worst, it’s a goldmine of vlog-ready background music to soundtrack a West London influencer’s Bali sojourn. Either way, this is but a checkpoint in Sam Evian’s career, a coalescence of several years’ experimentation that he will undoubtedly proceed far from with his next release.

It's a grown-up album for grown-up fans; rest assured, Vedder isn't finished raging, but he does also have to sing his kids to sleep.

In general, you can tell that a lot of thought has gone into Delusions of Grand Fur. This is true of the well-crafted songs themselves, but also of the fluid trajectory of the album and the powerful lyrical subject matter.

Some progression and distinction from "Passover" to Directions to See a Ghost is discernable over the unremitting low-end vibrations, some tweaks to the combustive chemistry as it was previously established.

The overall impression the album leaves in its gossamer and steel wake is one of fearless, feminine selfhood. The Anchoress creates a series of love narratives for her listeners to peruse, asking us to think critically about them rather than passively listening.

Whether it was the influence of Steve Martin's style, or the chance to escape from it, with Nobody Knows You, the Steep Canyon Rangers have given their listeners yet another reason to keep listening.

Disjointed ending or not, Empire of the Sun has delivered a well-blended mix of disco, electropop and just plain fun that evokes the greats without copying them outright.

Even at their most tragic and at their angriest, most of the tracks on the album are calls to empathy in unexpected scenarios, feeling pain as a means of catharsis and in turn acknowledging the pain in others after turning inward. The results are amazingly beautiful.

This is wall-shaking club music for screaming crowds and vast towers of sub-bass. It’s hard to imagine listening to the whole thing end to end unless you were also working a case of beer at the same pace.

Slime Language might be seen as insubstantial in the larger scheme of Thug's career, and perhaps that's true. But this is just a refinement rather than an envelope-pushing statement, a reminder that Thug is great at making this kind of music even when he's not rousing the rabble over his flamboyant fashion or his abstract starchild gibberish.

On Supervision, Jackson is at her strongest, both sonically and vocally. She has, for lack of a better term, found her groove: from the pulsing disco rhythms on "Do You Feel" to the synthpop breakup anthem "Gullible Fool", La Roux is once again proving that there's still an audience and a market for music that is fuelled by nostalgic sounds.

It is a jarring, inventive, exciting, and compelling album that deserves and rewards multiple listens. Its creativity and complexity sketch out innovative new paths for this band as they approach one decade of artistry together. If The Alien Coast is any indication, we are in for boundary-defying joy in the future.

19 indeed boasts several distinct sounds by which Adele is given to do her thing. These are utilized quite harmoniously to fit her powerhouse vocal delivery, a stirring combination of her diverse influences ranging from the Cure’s Robert Smith to Philly soul queen Jill Scott to legendary rhythm ‘n’ folk chanteuse Karen Dalton.

The Desaturating Seven is completely focused on its adaptation of the source material, but musically it provides a jolt that reminds listeners of the band's '90s heyday.

This is a trustworthy and worthy addition to one’s album collection and live appointment book.

America Give Up comes out swingin' from the first bell and barely lets up.

The most impressive thing about Songs and Other Things is that Verlaine’s singing has actually gotten stronger with time.

Face Control does have at least a few things in common with a good poem: it’s a carefully crafted, modest, personal work that’s as much about purging the demons and anxieties that have been kicking around in the author’s dome as it is about creating something beautiful.

The album, co-produced by Urban and Dann Huff, has a smooth, lush sound that fits the material like a well-tailored suit.

Once again we’re offered heart-on-sleeve intimacy and melodies that contain pressure-cooked tension that never blows its top.

Now and then strings peek out, gently accenting the soaring vocals. ['Half Life is] a fitting close for an album of such quiet elegance.

Nurses may not always know where they’re going with Apple’s Acre, but it sure is fun to follow them anyway.

Chilly Gonzales has at least done a fine job shaping its aural side into a stand alone piece. It may be a grab bag, but Ivory Tower's contents are largely satisfying.

If the band is in danger of anything at this point in their career, it may only be that by now they pull off this sound a little too effortlessly, leaving a noticeable lack of tension or novelty at the center.

'80s synthpop pandering aside, Welcome Reality is a beautifully realized vision of an album whose pomp and bombast will appeal to those looking for pop that goes beyond dancing.

This is a country record with a pop heart.

There's both a nightlife vibe and a 1980s synthpop air on their second album, On a Bedroom Wall.

The band demonstrates a keen awareness of how much to push and pull in any particular direction in its now firmly established folk/blues/rock axis.

It’s a record that, despite all of its differing hues, manages to come across as a unified mosaic of sound.

Although Adventures in Dementia doesn’t quite have chart-topper written all over it, it just might be one of the more musically accessible Haines releases in these past seven years.

Better Than Home is the kind of album that define a career, and simply put, that’s better than most.

I Worship Chaos isn’t necessarily the best Children Of Bodom album but it’s as good as the best of what the band has done to date and nine albums in that’s remarkable.

You could see Dream World as a floundering piece of non-committal art, or you can take it as an eclectic ride where anything is game. But even a cynic from column A would have to admit that this is a mighty strong album.

A record that's more focused than the last two Bloc Party albums and one which finds the group in top fighting form, its fists balled up and its collective stare cold and unshakable.

Norah Jones proves herself to be as great a songwriter as she is a pianist and vocalist.

Small Black sometimes gets lumped into the chill-wave trend, sharing bills and fans with acts like Washed Out and Real Estate. The band shouldn't take it to heart-they clearly have more to offer than contentedly stoned background music. They'd do well to explore their own record collections again and not get caught up listening too intently to the music of their tourmates.

The band isn’t out to break any new ground here, which is what makes the record such a welcome effort; it’s comfortable, graceful, and uniformly pleasant.

Matters of love and life dominate the album, as they do all great pop, although there’s a sense that the band is more in on the joke this time out.

Mathematics’ intentions, evidently, was to put together a fun, lively compilation of some ill Wu-Tang related tracks, regardless of what album they appeared on or who was flowing on them. In that, he succeeded. The only drawbacks of Return to the Wu are its necessity and format.

It's not an especially varied or original offering, but it is remarkably authentic and engrossing, and for that alone, Stickles and company deserve applause.

If you're in a good mood, bop along to the tunes; if you're feeling low, wallow in the lyric sheet. Something for everyone!

Work is a more subtle, subdued album than Shout Out Louds' previous LPs. It is also a far more consistent one, capturing the band maturing artistically.

Like the Pains of Being Pure at Heart and A Place to Bury Strangers, Ringo Deathstarr dips into classic shoegaze with more than enough energy to make the lack of originality a non-factor, but there's something about the versatility the band shows on Colour Trip that makes it all slightly more intriguing than their peers.

Along with the bright and clean production, replete with snapping snare drums, droning bass and floaty synth lines that don’t overwhelm the addictive hooks, Trigga becomes an endlessly accessible collection of bangers and ballads alike.

The album keeps up songwriting quality at a surprisingly consistent level, taking a collective breath before barrelling into a series of fine tunes to close.

Despite some failures on the story-telling side, New Roman Times is a fantastic disc if you already happen to be a Camper Van Beethoven fan.

Evaluating it across his whole catalog, this occupies the second-tier below uncopyable classics that he churned out in the beginning of the 2000s. While that may be an unfair standard to hold any artist to, Peace Is the Mission provides the comforting thesis: if peace can be achieved by dancing, this is the album to spin.

Living Thing may grow to become known as Peter Bjorn and John’s pirate album, a rattling, jangly near-hour of music that’s completely in step with itself.

Americana is, finally, Neil Young's best and most complete record since 1994's Sleeps With Angels.

When Earrings Off! is good, it’s very, very good. When it’s not so good, it sounds too much like forced experimentation.

As on Myths of the Near Future, Klaxons have created an album in Surfing the Void that should work as well in a live setting as it does coming through speakers or headphones.

Just Enough Hip to Be Woman is more than hip, it’s simply glorious and a paean to the good ol’ days when pop was sharp and concise, and music for teenyboppers was actually non-synthesized and infectious.

The quartet, at least on this record, has melded into an impressive whole.

This is ear candy that's meant to be pleasing rather than personal, and avoids political or controversial topics. That does not make it boring. In fact, just the opposite is true. There are many charms to be found within.

It’s a great record, but it’s as if the band made a pledge to skronk--a collective aesthetic noise decision.

With still improved resources and an excellent group of musicians around her-The Grand Chandeliers features Shazad Ismaily's bass, guitarist Grey Gersten, and honorary member Mark Ribot-Holland now achieves a sound she probably never imagined for herself eight or even five years ago.

When word of a Jimi Goodwin album first got out, the reaction was to hope for a trifle at best and fear a disaster at worst. Instead, it’s the rare solo album that builds on the singer’s day job without turning its back on it. File under: Pleasant surprise.

The end result is an album that’s one half decent (even if it is a bit indebted to Ash, Haskins, and Haskins’ post-Bauhaus career) and one half incredible.

A perfect album of gorgeous dance music.

A strange mix of songs that, while varied, doesn't boast much personality of its own.

Somehow, it just might be the pop album of the year.

If you’re the sort of person who focuses on the fact that this album doesn’t exactly bring a lot of revolutionary stuff to the table, that Lerner’s lyrics are a little clichéd at their worst, that it’s a little too easy to slap Telekinesis! with the increasingly bland “indie rock” tag instead of focusing on the fact you’re listening to a collection of sincere, intelligently constructed, often beautiful songs, then you probably shouldn’t be bothering with this whole pop music thing in the first place.

Never mind the tattle in the press, the live show proves that the rumors are true. The music speaks for itself. The Gossip is the real deal.

Sure, there are special treats like a guest vocal from Phil Oakey (the Human League), but overall, if you like Little Boots, you will love Hands. And not liking Little Boots is like not liking fun.

All in all, Tipped Bowls is a very nearly excellent piece of accessible electronica. Nearly excellent.

This is a record for fans of Jerry Jeff, certainly, who will appreciate these reverent covers from an obvious and devoted acolyte. But, for Snider's fans the album will be even more powerful; as a celebration of his deepest influence.

The album is charming and charismatic, and full of 1980s vigour.

Given the strength of the music and the shock of the Spree’s new choice of uniform, it is too bad that there isn’t something a little bit more biting, a little bit more revelatory in the lyrics beneath that music, the soul behind the uniforms.

Drastic Fantastic is not so much a revelation, and song-by-song, it might not even quite surpass its predecessor in overall strength, but it’s proof that she’s for real.

Some of the reworkings on Still Within the Sound of My Voice are timeless themselves, and are worth more than a few words of praise.

It’s funky, it’s debonair, and it’s overall something that rewards repeat listens to isolate elements and notice the flourishes of colour that GusGus brings to its sound.

Undoubtedly solid, diverse and finding well good use of its plethora of bass players and its loveable, nutty front man, Melvins deliver yet another solid release.

Jawbone isn’t likely to shoot to the top of a fan’s “favorite Paul Weller albums” list anytime soon--the stuff he does regularly is far more effective. But as a debut soundtrack, this is an extremely strong effort, and with Weller continuing to push boundaries farther and farther as his career progresses.

Living Colour has solidified their standing as one of the most consistent, original and important bands America has produced. There’s little left to say: kick the chair out of the doorway and get this essential album into your life, immediately.

The pieces tie together, and at the end of the day, there’s no denying that Mastermind is a fun album.

The rough, live feel of the tracks comes across beautifully in the recording, and after years of winning over fans with truly rocking live shows, the Church have finally managed to capture that sound on disc.

Offering a kind of pessimistic energy that may not add much to a genre inundated with bad attitudes, they elevate their game a little here and produce a record stuffed with likable and applicable anthems.

Compared with Folkloric Feel there’s more pop and accessibility here.

If Seth’s letter announcing its arrival prior to release has any overarching voice in this, their goal of developing a record that portrays itself as “multidimensional as its makers” has been thoroughly achieved.

Mandowa has carefully crafted the album so that each song appears smooth and calming while retaining an adventurous edge.

The weight of history and tape hiss has been lifted and the songs can stand alone on Cool Planet. As it turns out, they hold up pretty well on their own.

It’s hard to say if this is Lofgren’s finest hour or just another fine hour in a long line of them, and in the end, it doesn’t really matter.