There’s more under the pleasant surfaces of these songs than first meets the ears, more subtly inventive textures than blatant quirks: evidence that the Zincs are indeed on the move.

Minor, but charming.

Simply put, working in a genre of one poses all sorts of risks for musicians; for now, at least, Lilacs & Champagne continues to impress in a way few of its peers are able to.

Though the record contains some moments of banality, Oblique to All Paths is a strong indication of why this band will continue to conjure in listeners’ minds a dark, melancholy place.

With Interview Music, Idlewild have made another beautifully crafted, memorable rock record while at the same time giving their sound space to evolve. If Everything Ever Written signaled the beginning of Idlewild MK II, then Interview Music finds them discovering just what the new Idlewild is capable of.

In listening to Kleerup all the way through, it’s obvious that he has the potential to be one of the best dance producers alive: he just has to learn how to grow first.

If American Doll Posse would have been edited into a shorter, more concise record, it could have been Amos’s best. Instead, it fits nicely alongside her best work, but is a little bit too bogged down with its sometimes preachy, non-descript politics and too many of the usual suspects in the mix.

Petra Goes to the Movies is creative, weird, often wonderful, sometimes irritating, and certainly the work of a terrific and inventive musician.

It doesn’t help that Clark’s affection for ‘80s synth pop lays the sonic foundation for much of Petits Fours, and it also doesn’t help that as it continues, Francis cedes an increasing amount of lead singing duties to his wife.

Not every song on her new album works--just because something is art does not make it good art--but most of them do because she really outs herself out there.

The main problem is that, after about seven tracks of this stuff, it grows a bit repetitive.

This record seems to outweigh the previous album in terms of quality and depth.

For the first time in their history, Garbage sounds like they just want to fit in. The problem is that they do.

Music for Falling from Trees is somewhat reminiscent of Arcade Fire offshoot the Bell Orchestre’s debut album, yet it succeeds in being more of a set work, and has fewer indie signifiers, even with background noise and fuzzily mic-ed strings.

As long as Holy Ghost! continue to cherry-pick the best moments of their particular strain of the musical past, they may just have a promising future.

In essence, Singh and Laurent merely make me wonder what Koenig and Mercer would have brought to the table on Red Velvet Snowball.

Simplicity is A Sleep's best value.

Vulnerable, is not groundbreaking, nor is it a complete return to form. It is, however, pretty good – which is a huge step in the right direction.

House of Love offers an album that will likely satisfy whatever quiet hopes its fans have kept safe for the band.

Glow never feels as whimsical or demented as Bruce Haack, and while this stuff may have seemed amusingly retro in 1998 or so, in 2013 Glow feels like especially well-trodden territory.

Though the magic and the mercury drop a degree in the second half, In Cold Blood remains refreshingly passionate with an appeal and allure which will surely draw you back for more.

Mayhem are clearly trying to push the envelope of their metal, but their efforts are rendered vain by the lack of derring-do which has sealed the fate of other fellow second-wave black metallers.

Sadly, Bannon’s ambient music struggles with a staggering lack of presence that his heady breakbeat programming never failed to accentuate.... The rest of Pattern of Excel seems to follow that trajectory toward more acoustic and gloomy sounds, by far the most effective section of the album, though not exactly innovative.

Hard Love is overstuffed and perhaps a bit overambitious, but repeated listening will reap ample rewards.

Time 'n' Place is not a long album, and it doesn't have time to get tiresome. It feels like something transitional as if Kero Kero Bonito are working their way into something that is more sustainable than the often wild, sometimes too-cute experiments of their past.

A plenty addictive listen.

In Changing Horses Kweller has slipped seamlessly into another stream of songwriting tradition, and all signs say it suits him.

As accessible and dour as it is on the surface, it’s the subtleties that continually beckon you in for more and leave their mark upon your subconscious.

Completely mediocre.

By darkening the edges of their sound the band look beyond the dance floor to the streets outside, all while maintaining their characteristic flair for a huge, groove-laden tune. The peaks are some of their most pointedly thrilling to date, and even the less immediate tracks gradually reveal subtle new shades. The result is one of the band's most consistently interesting and cohesive albums to date.

Love Comes Close shows some potential for artist growth with a little more seasoned songwriting.

Madeleine Peyroux is an artist literally without her own voice. Borrowing from one source heavily and dabblingly from myriad sources, her Standing on the Rooftop is the sound of nothing so much as hip confusion.

Dylanesque is the rare album of Dylan covers that envisions the songs in unfamiliar musical settings, and it does so without sacrificing the soul of the lyrics.

While this album may mirror some type of personal imaginative journey for the listener, the truth is it is just too dreary and self-indulgent to endure in its entirety.

The record is full of tight rock songs, but these ladies really distinguish themselves when they stretch out.

The tactile experience associated with The Aeroplane Flies High disintegrates when translated to a digital format. A once-prized item becomes empty.

A follow-up that’s every bit as charming and melodious as their first.

As it is, listeners will probably hear Prince Rama with one eyebrow raised, which is a shame. Some art is best appreciated when one isn’t preoccupied with being smarter than the artist.

Caer shows definite signs that Twin Shadow is moving in the right direction. However, the album is too often bogged down by cheerless beats, painted in varying shades of beige.

The music's not flawless, but it serves its role as come-down music quite nicely.

Bridwell's small-town observations have previously had a shallow yet quaint quality to them, but Mirage Rock goes far too heavy on the clichés.

It’s a private album, filled with in-jokes and notes that only make sense for Braxton himself.

The pieces have an unfinished quality to them, as though they’re demos for something greater, something that might touch on past glory.

Wild Light certainly will not be pegged as the most original, best dressed or smartest band in Indie Pop, but the group wears all of Indie Pop on its proverbial sleeve and seems fit to carry the Indie Pop flag--at least for a little while.

So Divided is somewhere in between—something less than the bluster and chaos of the group’s major label debut, something more than the follow-up’s misguided pretension.

There’s nothing wrong with anything on Tablet, simply that Smith has been doing the same thing for so long that one starts to wonder what he might be able to do if he set his sights a little higher.

It’s music that requires a few listens before all the nuances reveal themselves. If you’re willing to make the effort, you will be handsomely rewarded.

Telephantasm is a potent reminder that heavy music can be brutal yet intelligent, that music that's dissonant and gnarly can achieve mainstream acceptance, and that it's been far, far too long since most alternative/indie rock has rocked this hard so well.

It's a decent record, even good. But am I going to be able to remember any of these songs in two months without playing them first? Experience says probably not.

This is a good, even very good, Bob Mould album, but it doesn't measure up to masterworks like Copper Blue and Zen Arcade.

No matter what happens on any given song (and fortunately there are far more hits than misses here), the Sounds have the advantage of having [Maja] Ivarsson at the mic.

Though Even If It Kills Me remains far from breaking ground any time soon, MCS’s third full-length release definitely stays true to the format Mr. Pierre and his band mates have seemingly perfected over the years.

Overall, The Nature of Things is an incredibly enjoyable listen that's very easy to take in, but it's not quite the classic record that the Daredevil Christopher Wright is clearly capable of making.

With each passing song, and each successive listen, there is yet another layer of complexity, influence, and inspiration to uncover.

Solid States is an admirable piece of work, and it happens to have several killer pop songs to boot.

If this were the kind of queer red disco deconstruction that it almost is, it would be excellent, but that's not even half the record's runtime. There's a quarter-hour stretch in the middle where it almost catches fire, but that's not enough for an album.

Despite the undying retromania, the gimmicky production, and the at-times frustratingly short song times (this is very much a record that will breeze by without listeners noticing time ticking away), Clash the Truth is tuneful and nuanced enough to warrant repeat listens even after other like-minded travelers are inevitably forgotten in favor of the next musical revival.

This is a fine album for easy summer listening, but the formulaic aspect of the songs keep it from being a classic.

If there’s any minor quibble, it’s that Carnation stacks its front half with the hits, leaving the second bit a bit anemic.

The sequence of the songs doesn't do it justice as a collection, there are a couple of tracks that are dispensable and it lacks that one special song that makes you want to kick over your chair and make love to the room. But it does a lot of things right.

At first listen, the melodies on Long Distance sound too simplistic to sustain an entire song -- and yet they do. The secret is that the melodies and chords are only half the story. The aura the songs create is as important as the songs themselves. Like Stereolab, Ivy is largely about sound; they just hide it better.

The Will to Death is an existential song cycle that finds Frusciante more dedicated to the "song" than ever before -- and even though the record isn't exactly perfect, his unwavering desire to create and explore, to cut an album and move on to the next pending project, is admirable and easy to appreciate.

It is a Spiritualized album in every sense of the word: bombastic, beautiful, energized, dynamic, and for some damn reason, just a little emotionless.

The first thing to say about Love & Danger is that it upholds the Kool Keith approach to making an album.

There are classical references, quirky rhythms, and oddball singing as if something serious is happening. But the mix comes off as self-indulgence and childish.

All in all, The Blessed Unrest is a well conceived effort, but not sans flaws.

Obviously, Freewave Lucifer f<ck f^ck f>ck is not the sort of record that is going to appeal to a wide audience. Even among Of Montreal fans, it’s likely listeners who enjoyed the esoteric experimentation of albums like Paralytic Stalks and White Is Relic/Irrealis Mood will be fully into this one.

They may not be groundbreaking, sophisticated, or poetic in any sense of the word, but what they lack in complexity and nuance they make up for in solid, simple tracks that are as harmless as they are amiable. Sometimes, that’s all it takes.

Sometimes it is the sound of lying in wait, ready to strike. Other times it sounds exhausted with shouldering the troubles of a heavy world. Though the space of these compositions can occasionally fall into a droning slack, for the most part this record is buzzing with a subtle intensity and full of buried gems for you to pull out as you listen.

It's sweet, it's charming, Bogart isn't much of a singer but doesn't have to be – but it's all a bit boring.

Big Boat could easily be perceived as the natural sequel to Fuego, but it works spectacularly well on its own, with Bob Ezrin guiding the band through a variety of song styles from breezy pop to elaborate prog rock.

MV & EE can play, but their washed-out psychedelica generally requires you to be on the same plane as they in order to gain full appreciation. Most of the time, it sounds like they’re already halfway to the heavens.

Keenan balances the constructive dissemination of contemporary society in his own unique way and, in the process, rather surprisingly, may have just made one of the most prescient albums of the year.

Blue Songs finds Butler and his crew of collaborators laying back to a place where the dance floor can be as much a place for ethereal contemplation as it is for unrepentant debauchery.

Overall, Elsewhere is that rarity of a companion album that works well on its own.

New Ocean is the perfect end of summer soundtrack for younger recently minted singles struggling with what-might-have-been questions and those wizened few who’ve finally come to terms with their bad livers and broken hearts.

With the help of folks like Kevn Kinney, Patty Griffin, Will Kimbrough, and others, Snider gives us eight songs that pack more wallop than their laid-back vibe suggests.

In conclusion, half an album here marks some of Lydon’s best work in decades and a half that should have never left band practice.

Libertad is much more like Audioslave’s second record, "Out of Exile": it shows the unbelievably low flair a supergroup can have, and how bland they can play, but finds them playing together anyway.

Pink Friday is a real shame, albeit a very well-marketed one, and since it's found its niche, it's no surprise the album was a fair success for Minaj.

It's catchy fluff, yes, but fluff nonetheless.

It is not good and and it is not bad. Most of it is just present and accounted for.

The results are beautiful.

Graveola always shoots for the moon, and often hits its mark, playing with electronic and tropical sounds that add layers of complexity and intrigue to its indie rock. Even when it misses the mark, though, there’s something to be learned.

Those already enamored of the duo’s well-defined aesthetic will find much to like, while those firmly anti-anything Zooey Deschanel will remain vehemently as such. The choice, one of literally thousands, is wholly yours.

I think there’s a kernel here on Everything Is, a hint of the possibility of something vital; but we’ll have to wait for the band to grow into their own skin to hear just where it takes them.

He didn’t want a rock-influenced hip-hop record. He wanted a rock record he could rap over. It’s no surprise, perhaps, that this works as often as it does.

She makes us hold tight for the entire time, shaking and bucking the whole way, but never gives us a chance to let go. For such a short set, Sweet Heart Rodeo catches the listener off guard an awful lot.

Throughout, the music on Arthur Buck is upbeat and eclectic, even playful, offering a contrast to the lyrics. One might say that Arthur and Buck's spirited playing and programming make the medicine go down smoother.

Jones' strengths lie in her collaborations in alt-country.

Rewild isn’t an amazing recording, but it is an ambitious one, if supernaturally shallow.

In just under 40 minutes, Hebden and Reid offer one of the most thrilling documents of real-time improvisation you’re likely to hear this year.

More or less, Ghostdini: The Wizard of Poetry in Emerald City manages to strike a balance between both his personas: the violent, self-indulgent Shaky Dog of early Wu Tang, and the at once more humorous and reflective Ghost of more recent years.

The shame in all of this is how generic the vision is. On a songwriting level, Currington has dropped any real storytelling emphasis or attention to specific details. On the whole, it seems like he's betting on his easygoing persona to win over audiences and keep him at the top of the charts.

On her own behind the piano or over drum programming, the songs sound sad in a somehow less convincing way, perhaps because so much of the rest of the record doesn’t try as hard to convince us of the hurt and does anyway.

This sort of noise and sludge ain’t for everybody, but fans of the Jesus Lizard, Pissed Jeans, or other such degenerates will take great masochistic pleasure in Kunk’s beatdown.

Seems more forced and formulaic than the carefree indie-pop of Cape Dory.

As a pop album, there's much to love on Magnetic Man and very little filler present, even if some tracks ("Going Nowhere", "Karma Crazy") strike harder than others ("Perfect Stranger", "Ping Pong").