With their feet up on the couch and laurels well and truly rested upon, they’ve gifted us with L.W. which (excepting its sister record) is undoubtedly the most comfortable LP the group has released in quite some time.

It's Barwick's most evocative instrument, one that sparkly piano notes can only help fill the room for, and one with which she diminishes too many comparisons to Panda Bear and other leftfield pop musicians.

It's tempting to label it as "primitive", what with that understatedly ominous cover art, but that undersells the album's strange immediacy, the way that these tracks feel absolutely familiar in spite of their grave otherworldliness.

Immolation’s music has once again taken a familiar form, only to contort it so as to spell out your inescapable fate.

Pissed Jeans have polished up their sound as much as is seemingly possible and because of that they've crafted their finest record yet.

Slave Ambient is the work of a band making us listen for every piece of them.

Each time you listen to it, you feel like you’re gaining a little piece of rare knowledge from the singer’s weathered and experienced life. It’s hard to fault an album that makes you feel such a connection, and Byrne’s latest does just that.

Though occasionally wallowing, there’s a self-assuredness here, a comfort in one’s skin, that’s refreshing, and relieving, given how close to the edge this ship has teetered over the years. As entertainment via soundwaves, it occasionally sags-lags-drags, but for a thoughtful tome on patient self-betterment, you couldn’t ask for much more.

Doomsdayer's Holiday is certainly a step in the right direction in terms of balancing the eclecticism that marred "Burning Off Impurities," and it has some amazing moments, but the album as a whole is too nebulous to be complete nirvana.

It's easy to imagine a superior album being made from sequencing it with the best of its predecessor. But there's a simple, unassuming quality that would be lost if you did.

The Stage Names, despite being dense, is rarely difficult and is probably the band's most accessible effort to date.

Essentially the best debut album of 2010 thus far.

At its best, Overgrown brings to mind Frank Sinatra's iconic In The Wee Small Hours, a record that acts as almost a thematic analogue in its lonely tone and ultimate embrace of love as a painful yet beautiful emotion.

At Night We Live is refreshing. Far are heavy, but without sounding like a generic rock band, poppy yet not cheesy, and proud to show they are back.

Even with an eight-year gap between, it's easy to think of Final Transmission as a sister album to White Silence. The facts of each album's creation are remarkably similar, down to being nine-song hitters largely recorded in practice spaces rather than a recording studio proper. The difference, of course, is that Final Transmission is short and raw by necessity rather than choice.

Ranging from dense electronica to stark piano ballads to an amalgamation of indie pop, electronica, and concert orchestra, The Magic Position envisions a magical world where Wolf has everything he could ever want at his disposal.

It’s another impressive piece of art from the everchanging Emma Ruth Rundle, and the beginning of something entirely different from the wandering artist.

Be it the lush, massive hills of Ireland or her genuine gratitude to just breath fresh air, The Two Worlds seems conjured up from the musician’s most isolated, profound moments. Lucky for us, she’s been kind enough to share them--and man, what gorgeous moments these are.

Ethel Cain's debut album is an astonishing accomplishment; one that is as painful as it is constantly bathing in the most beautifully dreamy arrangements. Every moment serves to enhance the conveying of the record's story, and refuses to shy away from the unconventional, intense, or drawn out.

There is considerable depth, particularly lyrical, offering the listener a significant amount of brilliant content to dissect. It may not be the album some fans wanted, still, it is an important step forward in the band’s sonic journey and overall development.

It goes from caustically smart presented social observations to absurd, childish rants, while keeping you dancing. I’m glad Viagra Boys found their niche without losing any of their edge.

Wakin On A Pretty Daze comes into focus with context, though, as does any accomplished record.

Nearer My God establishes itself as emo's first definitive document on digital-age despair.

The ONE… doesn't feel like work for G-Side, rather it feels like a first love, a record that gives a hundred percent to garner every compliment it earns: flowing, smart, sexy, and even global to those who hear it and its grand tone.

On Panorama, they show themselves to be one of the tightest units in music, writing groove after memorable groove. Guitars, bass, and drums meld seamlessly, with no component vying for attention above the others. What stands out is how rarely the guitarists resort to palm mutes, heavy distortion, or even fast strumming. There is an almost improvisational aspect to the music in a lot of these songs.

Asphalt Meadows not only lives up to but truly, actually fulfils the promise of Death Cab for Cutie – of music not always new, or unique, or 'experimental', but always, always genuine, and always, always packed with meaning and emotion.

Spoon’s bravest excursions to date, brilliant and distinct in their own way.

Further focus is rewarded with a deeper experience, sadder and more upset than you might hear the first time.