The result is a collection of upbeat indie rock songs that brings out the very best in both players.

No No No's a pleasantly nostalgic experience, but ultimately it feels insubstantial.

Mood is the driving force, making it function best as background music, if occasionally forgettable.

The songs on Elaenia sound closer to psychedelic jazz and post-rock, and feel more like improvised jam sessions than carefully sequenced electronic music. It's a risky strategy, but the gamble pays off big.

Art Angels is a major victory for deep weird.

To this day, Dylan regards the studio as an artifact-making machine and not a magical chamber freezing definitive versions of his songs. The Bootleg Series has bolstered this opinion before but never presented his creative process so nakedly. For any music fan, this is pure treasure.

Ritter draws liberally from the well of himself, others and the Bible, and it's a fun ride.

Hanson artfully pits his airy vocals and kaleidoscopic harmonies (there's a pronounced Kinks vibe) against thick, sludgy guitar riffs and crashing drums.

Li's productions tend toward a functional minimalism that works well for DJ singles but to some ears might lack the dynamics expected from albums. If you can get past that, though, Under The Same Sky holds together as a compelling exploration of a theme.

A solid offering that could have been improved by swapping some of the remixes for the originals.

Despite two-thirds of the album taking risks by adding everything from saxophone to opera, the final handful of songs feel like filler. Still, Evermore: The Art Of Duality largely delivers.

Though minimalist, it's not all austere.

Fuzz do one thing--creepy, heavy fuzz rock--but do it really well.

There's relative lack of confrontational left turns and endurance-testing meltdowns, which might divide long-time fans over whether this is Wolf Eyes' most boring album or their most "mature."

It's a near-constant barrage of fist-pumpers built to fight back the sunrise, from the opening pummel of Throwaways to the Replacements-indebted pop power of closer Dirty Lights.

Half Moon Run's embracing of bands they love (Radiohead, large swaths of Montreal's breakout mid-00s scene) make much of Sun Leads Me On sound familiar. But it's not so bad to be visited by old friends.

Sequels rarely outdo the original, and despite The Game naming Kendrick Lamar his successor years ago, The Documentary 2 and 2.5 prove he's far from over.

Sequels rarely outdo the original, and despite The Game naming Kendrick Lamar his successor years ago, The Documentary 2 and 2.5 prove he's far from over.

Their imperfections blare through your speakers, as do the clanging discofied hi-hats, nervy guitar lines and jagged, boy/girl shouted vocals. And yet it satisfies in a way similar to seeing the final pages of your fanzine come spitting through a photocopier.

Impressively, the album was recorded in a day, and it swells with atmosphere.

Bernard Sumner's rhymes are still a bit cutesy and obvious, but, as ever, the same old quibbles take a backseat when the pop is this solid.

This time around he's found his soul. It's in his phrasing, his rhythms, the occasional Hammond organ punctuation and sultry balladry.

Newsom's working with a darker palette of colours here, and in all respects--her ideas, musicianship and vocals--is evidently a master.

Practically every bar the 21-year-old spits is full of fiery indignation, aimed not just at exposing (and undermining) entrenched social hierarchies, but at the insecurities that might also hold her back.

Listening is like slowly sinking into a warm bath, then gradually adding rose petals, bubbles, arsenic. But Majical Cloudz never let you drown.

In terms of brightness and accessibility, the album feels like an extension of their breakout record, 2008's Microcastle. Yet it's clear the band has matured in the intervening years--and they're better for it.

The hype has reached a dangerous level. Which makes it oh so sweet that Sore delivers.

This is music to lose yourself in.