Five Roses is far from mere homage. This is the work of a precocious and incredibly ambitious songwriter who is playfully navigating the history of pop music.

Black City is his thesis on how he's capable of delivering a dark, lustful album just as easy as he can mine more bubbly, melodic sounds. Beyond this, he's delivered one of the more cohesive and thematically sound albums of the year so far.

The Sun Awakens' sparseness has a deepness to it that requires spending time with the album in its entirety in order to truly understand it.

As a series of a mood pieces detailing the luxury lifestyle of hip-hop's one-percenters, Take Care is fairly captivating. As a portrait of the artist at the top of the mountain, however, it's pretty frustrating.

There’s not much here that will surprise longtime fans of Krug and Boeckner’s work, although they have slowly turned the wheel and moved the Wolf Parade sound on from "Apologies to the Queen Mary."

It's All True plays with its own honesty as perfectly as it does your expectations.

In short; it's new, interesting, and the inevitable remixes are going to be great.

Ballad of the Broken Seas is mysterious and theatrical and totally cool.

How can you talk about The Haunted Man without calling it "achingly beautiful"? This is a real problem, and it necessitates a thesaurus.

In taking a slower and more deliberate approach to his craft this time around, FaltyDL is responsible for one of the more purely enjoyable albums of the still-young year.

Seventh Tree ultimately may have club-happy "Supernature" devotees shaking their heads, but for those of us who cherish all things weird and wonderful in the land of Goldfrapp, it is a welcome (and much-needed) return to form.

Demolished Thoughts is a consistent and strong record all the way through. In the same way Mascis turned his talents effectively to quieter tones, Moore gives us a new perspective on the talents we've seen from him for decades.

While the return to straighter Old West soundscapes is welcome after Garden Ruin, Carried to Dust is really just another solid album from a band that’s made a career out of mining the genres of the Southwest.

My central beef with Cease to Begin is not really its lack of variety, but the fact that if it just took a few more chances it could've been great.

For all the noise and bluster they kick up to start off the record, Toward the Low Sun is at its best when it's an unassuming return, when the beauty and power of the songs sneak up on us.

Cannibal Sea's saccharine pop flirts at times with levels likely to cause diabetic seizures in the biggest Cardigans and Komeda fans, but the band does a good job of maintaining the album's balance.

Much like that of the band's previous albums, the value of Ma Fleur is in its exploration of how to grip an emotion out of simplicity.

It's rare to find a band with such breadth of vision, and although indie kids might balk at Saint Dymphna's shameless embrace of the dance floor, the rest of us will be lost in its agitated reverie.

It's an often frustrating listen, but in the end the album is a triumph.

This album strain on the ears or on the brain, but when the last track plays out its last seconds, it leaves a feeling of satisfaction.

This application of the synthesizer’s capabilities across styles and time periods allows Matmos to explore their music through a more purely compositional aesthetic -- and, with any luck, they’ll be remembered for this just as much as for their experimental leanings.

[Out of Boris' three albums released this year] New Album remains the victory lap, a cap to yet another year of successful experimentation.

Marshall still manages to wring pathos out of her work, if not to the same degree and not in the same way.

Refreshingly, Love as Laughter doesn’t take itself too seriously: this is smart rock completely devoid of pretentiousness.

Sisterworld is their first album that fits in soundly with the work of other bands. Whether or not that’s a good thing for Liars is a matter of debate.

Heretofore lurches well beyond the confines of the breathtaking rustic songcraft they're known for, but every experiment is drenched in gorgeous melodies and inventive instrumentation. In short, it's Megafaun's most effortless, assured work to date.

No Better Time Than Now is close to a great album, but it's flawed in its existence to experiment, ultimately experimenting a little too far.

They're onto something with the blistering, bluesy, punk direction, but the sound will never gel as long as the songs keep getting stretched beyond their logical breaking points. It's time to move on.

With Powder Burns he has surpassed all expectations brought on from his previous releases.

That he was able to keep as much of himself in the transition from the underground to the mainstream is what is admirable.

It’s rare for an album to transport you so fully onto its own terrain, and Witching Hour is a worthwhile retreat.

He offers soem new aspects, as well, most notably the refined production techniques, which give the album a warmer, more polished feel.

This album stands out because of its stadium-worthy aspirations.

Matthew Houck, better known as the voice of Phosphorescent, has given Willie Nelson (and the rest of us) a gorgeous, shimmering gift in To Willie.

Longtime fans might lament the loss of a second guitar and the balls-out thrashing that sometimes came with it, but on certain levels it may be a blessing in disguise. A leaner Deerhoof allows other facets of the band to shine, most notably Greg Saunier's drum work.

It's at times fragile, at times bolstering, at times bittersweet, at times even triumphant, but it's timeless all the same.

It's a neat trick that Love Is All has pulled off on this record, making the mundane and common just as urgent and real as the enormous and intangible.

Sitting through an album of catchy but ultimately vapid pop songs isn't made any more satisfying when there's a staggering track near the end.

Collett offers a playful and laidback approach on Here’s to Being Here that makes that other group of his seem sadly overblown by comparison.

Wedren is game, and the hooks are there, but it’s been proven many times that a person can never truly go home again. It’s how far away Live From Home ends up that provides its greatest interest.

Humor Risk proves that striking a balance doesn't necessarily imply stasis.

The album's affinity for traditional hooks, mixed with Johnson's ability to depart from the traditional makes this album one of the Fruit Bats most listenable and enjoyable.

Local Business may be missing the epic historical bent that lent The Monitor extra credence in a crowded field of garage rock contenders, but in place of the brazen Civil War narrative is a more subtle meditation on being poor and ambitious in America.

What makes Fort Nightly rise above the dance-rock pack is an ear for writing immediately catchy songs.

If "just trying to play with passion" is the ethos, then consider the band's sophomore album, Death Dreams, the perfection.

Gone are the spotty moments that marred his previous solo work. Most important, Malkmus seems to be having fun again.

There's still plenty about the group to satisfy long-time fans, and there's a wealth of quality and innovation to win them some new ones.

Heems and Kool A.D. might be deconstructing rap for the purposes of delivering ingenious and challenging verses, but Relax is one of the best capital R rap albums out this year.

In short, I'm New Here is the perfect comeback album, deploying modern production in the service of timeless songcraft and personal vision.

With Calla’s song structures and melodies more concrete, though, Valle’s desolate imagery has begun to lose a bit of its mystery, and consequently, some of its appeal.

While managing to side-step both preciousness and predictability, The Broken String pulls together the long-anticipated and full-fledged follow-up that fans deserve, at the same time aptly defining where Bishop Allen is now: all over the map.

This semi-collective sound-making only adds to the expansiveness of the band’s gestures.

His self-producing the album allows for complete creative control and its pure sense of cohesion as one track flows seamlessly into the next.

Many musicians watermark every second of their albums with their signature, but not Caminiti, and that's what makes his album surprisingly individual.

She triumphantly succeeds in displaying what it means to not sugar-coat pop music in London.

For all the excitement and dramatic tension of the opening tracks, Condon himself seems unsurprised by his songs the rest of the way, and you might find yourself reacting the same way. Pleasantly surprised at first, then just pleasant.

You will not hear another album as straight-forward, unburdened by emotional distance and downright open as this one this year. And that's Major.

Although the album is listenable and even uplifting at times, no songs readily stand out as particularly important or poignant in the way that “Keep Yourself Warm” or “Old Old Fashioned” from The Midnight Organ Fight do.

Cassadaga represents a next phase, one that will prove enduring even as the kids latch onto their next rock 'n' roll savior.

On Loose in the Air, the Double has attenuated the noise and cranked up the once-obscured songs. This may be bad news for the purists, but it’s a blessing for everyone waiting for a great record from this Brooklyn band.

Thematically and structurally, this record is Linkous comfortably being Linkous.

The stream-of-conscious raps that peppered her debut have been scaled back, replaced by relatively more traditional compositions, but the music is still deliciously unpredictable, and the words are a pack of SweeTart poetry.

There’s not much here that will elevate the band beyond their current status. Bermanites will still revel in his idiosyncratic lyrics, and they can even play along thanks to an insert that lists all the chords used on the record.

On their fourth album, Set 'Em Wild, Set 'Em Free, they've simultaneously intensified and refined that blend, even as they've shaved off one of their original four members.

This is a record not so much crying in the wilderness, but one recognizing that its characters are in that wilderness.

The Ohio-based band led by singer/songwriter Jerry DeCicca bears its share of melancholy and then some on their fifth album, but so do a million and one other indie bands, and none of them come anywere close to evoking the same sort of sad-sack super session [like one with Lee Hazlewood, Townes Van Zandt, Stuart Staples from Tindersticks, and Mickey Newbury].

There are no bad songs on Employment. There are maybe a couple not-good ones toward the end, but even those are so tightly wound and polished they could end up lodged in your head for days.

It's a much warmer album than her most recent album, 2002's Daybreaker, and it's perhaps her most complete album yet.

Death Magnetic is just about the best album Metallica could have made at this point.

Like Pigeons before it, A Different Ship is a solid album, but one that still finds Here We Go Magic on the road to perfecting and updating their sound on a full-length album.

Throughout its padded 40-minute run time (like "All Hour Cymbals," it’s got a decent amount of filler), Odd Blood makes a stronger case for what’s up next for the band’s sound than where it is now.

On a whole Salon lacks more of these emotional moments.

Ring is an ambitious and impressive statement, and one that should help Glasser avoid that one-off attention to become a lasting artist. Its highlights are unique and mesmerizing, and the few lesser (and by lesser, I mean not flat-out fantastic) moments leave room for her to grow from here.

It's exhausting.

It is uncompromising, brutally honest... and adroit at melding many genres together without losing sight of the fact it is first a hip-hop record.

In 2006, it seemed like Beach House couldn't outlive Beach House. In 2012, Bloom is the bar to clear.

Cymbals Eat Guitars don’t get drowned in homage, however; from the first explosive note to the last, Why There Are Mountains is a routinely rewarding album, with each listen revealing great new scenery.

Earlier efforts may suffer from a bit of kindergarten syndrome, in both the styles of singing and instrumentation, but Ships seems to see Danielson maturing at a faster rate.

Rise Above is deliberately challenging and obtuse; its ceaseless changes and refusal to settle are its most important similarities to Damaged's abrasive and exhaustive loudness. Translating Black Flag's anti-intellectual screed into arty free-jazz concept is one thing. That it actually merits repeat listens is another altogether.

Here's to Taking It Easy is a fine debut of sorts for Phosphorescent as a band. To Willie was the preamble to this, the band's new direction. And good as Houck was as a singer-songwriter, "band leader" is a role that suits him just as well.

Thankfully, on Live a Little, he... sticks to what he does best: creating lovely, literate pop-rock.

Menomena now has to be regarded as one of today's more intriguing rock outfits.

These Swedes can write a song with hooks that travel deep through your ears and stay in your cerebral cortex.

Sincerity is one of the hardest things to pull off in music, so it’s to Bouchard’s credit that he does so effectively.

Corin Tucker went back to her roots on Kill My Blues and shows why her brand of lo-fi indie punk had such a strong following in the first place.

With In Love & War, Amerie has adopted to trying times with spunk and style, grace and flair. And, yes, swag.

Stephen Wilkinson has taken the field recordings and organic experiments of his previous albums and filtered them through a stylistic prism, resulting in a kaleidoscopic but nearly uniformly accomplished set of songs.

It showcases an artistic range that had been up to this point unexplored.

It's a brief, delightful little thing, with a handful of knockout singles.

[A] great debut.

Its dreamy interludes, leading into those electroclash tangents provide a welcome bit of inventiveness that help to remind that, while relatable at their best, Little Dragon are hardly conventional.

These songs are so direct that they lack the depth and texture that more sonic detail would deliver.

The album is another solid (if somewhat too long) set by a band firmly in control of where it is at and what it’s doing.

Under Great White Northern Lights is a perfect explanation of the band's significance to doubters, now and in the future.

Constant Future is another fine rock record from a band that gets harder to ignore with each release, even when the album's titular problem is exactly what keeps them flying under the radar.

With Family of Love, Dom hasn't fizzled out--it's flowered in five different directions.

He uses his angelic croon to beckon us to listen to him, sounding so damn desperate. Combine that with the rest of the band's driving, yet ambient build-ups and we have one of our most lovely and earnest records of 2011.