There’s an excellent three track run from “What if…,” an energetic song that samples Ol’ Dirty Bastard’s “Shimmy Shimmy Ya,” into mid-tempo standout “Safety Zone” before a touch of Hope World familiarity returns in the optimistic “Future.”

Tillman’s writing, already literate and caustically funny, has progressed as well as his arrangements.

Throughout Virgins, Hecker organizes things just a little bit off, pokes at it just enough to be unsettling, and then pushes things away just when they start to make sense. Music has so clearly affected him, and now he’s making sure it’s doing the same for you.

Be the Cowboy shows that love and loss can be grand and small at the same time. That two minutes is more than enough time to melt down emotion into a pure concentrate and nearly drown yourself in it. That every moment can be a epic love story, that every heartbreak can be as hard and small as a pearl and just as coveted.

Its feeling lingers long after her patient request. Despite the humor, wit, and sharp-edge of illuminati hotties, there’s a definable sense of sadness throughout the album, and its resulting resonance is a major success for Sarah Tudzin and Co.

Deftones have only ever produced good albums, but they’ve also spent the decade since Diamond Eyes exploring textures and soundscapes, sometimes at the expense of songcraft. Ohms breaks that trend, with more focused songs, and a renewed love of hard-rocking guitar riffs that may rekindle the band’s relationship with fans that jumped ship after White Pony.

Wet Leg is by all means a daring debut for the duo, demonstrating that the success of “Chaise Longue” was not at all an accident.

Random Access Memories proves that Daft Punk remain masters of their domain, who defend their array of superlatives because of, rather than in spite of, unconventional sound choices.

Norman Fucking Rockwell! proves (again) Del Rey as a fully-realized artist who has remained true to her obsessions — aesthetic, cultural, and personal — outlasting the misogynist criticisms that could have derailed her early career. Del Rey delivers a gaze that swivels internally and externally, that can simultaneously observe our national existential dread and her own sudden hope for a “Hallmark” love.

It's pretty impossible to be disappointed with the result here: crisp remastering of the original 10 songs, plus 18 Gish-era tracks, demos and live versions, many of which are being released officially for the first time here.

After one listen or 10, In Colour reflects brightly, a phenomenally poised and universally approachable solo debut.

The Weeknd have brought something much more, something much needed: something real. Kudos.

While the bonus material is nice, they won't likely reinvent people's appreciation for the record, which is more or less foolproof as it is. But the reissue should call people's attention back to a record that, over time, has only grown in stature as one of the most vital and enduring musical statements of its era.

With High Crimes, The Damned Things arrive at a truly unique blend of styles. They also marry heaviness and melody without sacrificing the punch or attack of the music, providing a refreshing new twist on heavy rock that came straight from left field.

On Isolation, she never sounds trapped in another era; she sounds free and inventive. And with nary a dud to be found among its 15 tracks, Isolation deserves a spot in the dance pop and neo-soul pantheons.

The music’s vision and beauty hold together regardless, a sturdy and unparalleled step of confidence.

Death of a Cheerleader is a cohesive, emotionally affecting work. With this album, Mia Berrin solidifies her place among the newest class of indie stalwart songwriters, carving out this space in a fearless and vulnerable way.

Part Lies is a goodbye to the fans who have been around for years but a hello to those who missed out the first time 'round. And that is all truth.

If you’re already a fan of Voivod, then you know how incredibly unique they are, and the quality of songwriting on The Wake is top-notch, making it one of the strongest metal albums of the year. Voivod have progressed exponentially since their raw punkish days.

This is the best album for 2011, and not just the last two months.

We just get to experience the full potential and realization of her creativity, which fortunately encountered technology apt enough to record it.

This isn’t so much an evolution, but a complete restructuring of Van Etten’s sound. It’s her OK Computer if you want to get frank.

Of course, the album is a highly polished product and not some diary page. But it feels lived in, truthful, authentic.

This is music inspired by what you remember hearing as a kid from your parents’ and grandparents’ record collections, but it’s been made fresh and totally original again.

Written for one lucky baby boy, A Sailor’s Guide to Earth also welcomes the unmarried, infertile, abandoned, and middle-aged with unconditional love. If Father’s Day is just another Sunday, let Simpson be your proxy.

Are We There functions best as the portrait of an artist coming into her own, while hopefully putting some of her demons to rest.

The album is a shoo-in for being a timeless great, no matter what we say. Vernon's got the magic touch. But it's lacking that original sense of urgency that flowed so freely in and out of For Emma, making it so genuine and so incredibly listenable.

The 19 tracks burn and rampage, sure, but they're sure to leave you standing there, mouth agape, begging for more.