If anything, the grooves have gotten tougher and funkier on Game Theory.

Daniel Romano’s third solo album is steeped in the storytelling traditions of old-school country musicians like Hank Snow and Stompin’ Tom, featuring beautifully arranged travelling songs about lost mothers, lost lovers and lost hope.

It features top-shelf exclusive original and cover tracks by softer-side-of-indie acts currently riding a wave of relevance.

From the nimbly finger-picked Troubles Will Be Gone to the emphatically strummed King Of Spain, he provides instrumental variety that never overshadows his poetic lyrics.

She’s absurd, yes, but she also has an incredible melodic sense and can unpredictably weave trancey backdrops to brilliant effect.

Feist is now that rare artist in complete control of her talent.

The arrangements, though, are far more expansive, all gorgeously produced and delivered with subtlety.

It’s also the best Wilco album in a minute, and that’s largely due to its leanness (the run time is just over 30 minutes) and masterfully arranged pop tunes.

Have We Met is another new departure, yet it still has that familiar strange storytelling swagger that’s at the heart of Destroyer.

Despite the nostalgia-brightened compositions, a rawness adds a tinge of melancholy to the proceedings. Here's hoping they keep this up.

If there is a difference between albums one and two, its the slightly twangier vibes and a structural emphasis on keyboard and guitar breakdowns that could be extendable live. It’s not hard to imagine Something To Tell You translating well to Haim’s amped-up stage show.

Winter Wheat reminds us that Samson, with his plaintive, modest timbre, is a singular voice in Canadian music.

Ultimately, Aguilera's the only one of her peers with the vocal prowess to pull it off.

This album is full of bangers and achieves what so many hip-hop heads, old and new, are longing for: music with a message, loud and clear.

While Visions is unmistakably 2012 sonically in its references to R&B and hip-hop, it also fits remarkably gracefully into 4AD's impressive back catalogue of dream pop.

A contemplative but intense listen.

As on their previous two records, the rewards here are in the refinement, the well-wrought voices and the sublimely subtle performances.

The 10 songs are tense and commanding, loaded with nervy post-punk charge, ricocheting rhythms and electric guitars both zippy and busy and wild and bucking.

Le Bon's pop sensibilities are much more pronounced, yet they don't dilute any of her wonderful weirdness.

Lyrically, Beyondless is occupied with notions of excess, from the endless cycle of war, to switching one dependency for another, to indulgence and appetite. It works because the band fundamentally thrives in extremes.

Influenced by both the horrors of war and the looming threat of a nearby active volcano, A U R O R A is every bit as terrifying and brutal as those inspirations suggest, but also oddly hypnotic and contemplative.

If you're not paying close attention, it's the kind of music that seems pretty but a little too straightforward. But delve into it and the layers open up, making you realize how rich it actually is.

A diasporic pop beacon for those of us from neither here nor there.

As Stuart Murdoch sings with literary precision about illness, isolation and striving for human connections, their digressions into club music and klezmer feel as restorative as they do celebratory.

Now and then, as on Say, the bigness of the music prevents you from really hearing and feeling the lyrics through the trumpet blasts and huge solos. But then I've Been Loved comes along, sounding a bit like the Eagles and touched with seriously melancholy cello, and you sense the gravitas beneath the dizzying crescendos.

Their combination of new wave coldness and glam rock glitter is a formula that works well, and Haines has a genuine talent for walking the line between tough-girl swagger and fragility.

It's a lot to wrap your head around, especially given the brief run time, but it also hits with a powerful immediacy, even on first listen. Justifies the hype.

Despite Rae Sremmurd's rep for hyped-up celebration songs, the album's best moment comes when Lee and Jimmy eschew cranking up for something closer to cutesy romance.

As each conflicting quality is reconciled, it’s never compromised or downplayed. They sound both aware of and immersed in the culture surrounding them while fully settled into their own reality as billionaires. In essence, they are Black, rich and famous, in that order.

Against all odds, Nobody's Daughter prevails with head-turning vitriolic blasts like Skinny Little Bitch, Samantha and How Dirty Girls Get Clean.

It’s a pop record, a history lesson and--for those uninitiated in the funky UK house tradition--a gateway drug all in one.

No sophomore slumping here.

Whitehorse's sophomore effort signals that this is one musical marriage that's only getting better with time.

he band has already built a mystique with their live show (frontwoman Jehnny Beth’s penetrating glare and righteous wail transfixed a packed Horseshoe Tavern at this year’s CMW), but Silence Yourself proves they’ve got the songs to back it up.

They're all talented musicians, so it's actually a pleasure to hear them go off on the occasional jazz fusion tangent, which they approach with the raw enthusiasm of a garage-punk band (except that they sound closer to King Crimson).

The album also hints at bossa nova and jazz but never abandons the post-rock sounds that are the band's forte. The most inviting Mice Parade effort to date.

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

It is a strikingly unique take on soul music in a year when there's a lot of competition from other R&B artists pushing the genre's boundaries.

Musically, it’s quiet and reserved, making for a subtle but satisfying listen.

Lamar is as cutting as ever in his rhymes, and adjusts his flow to great effect.

While the record is a solid listen front to back, standout moments include 'Princes,' which features Ghana-London rapper Tinchy Stryder, and the breathless vocals on the ghostly 'House Jam.' Watch for this album to pop up all over year-end best-of lists next month.

If you’re not up on that stuff, Microcastle may seem like a more impressive creative breakthrough than it actually is, which could explain the gushy reviews.

Like many of Romano's meticulous creations, it possesses all the hallmarks of a classic: a compelling, twisting narrative that bends the music to its shape.

The Owl City duet is a bit of a misstep, as is the Justin Bieber collaboration, but two just okay songs and 14 great ones is better than most acts can manage on their greatest hits packages, let alone their second album.

Even though the chords are minor and the mood sombre, there’s something pure, clean and uncluttered about the record that prevents it from being altogether sad. It breathes.

A smooth and beautiful listen.

Converge create art-school hardcore while still delivering on metal’s basest needs.

RJ puts aside his cinematic loops to deliver his roughest and toughest beats, over which Blueprint spits the party and bullshit blues like a man watching his most celebrated contempories fiddle with iced-out jewellery while their country burns before their eyes.

While it doesn't mine new territory, Restarter is the sound of Torche getting comfortable and digging in their heels.

There might not be any outright smash hits ready for radio and curated streaming playlists, but it’s a well-paced album with strong replay value. Cole doesn’t sacrifice any inch of rhythm or melody while detailing his cautionary tales.

The Empyrean, is an engaging collection of brilliant soundscapes, fancy guitar work and some intriguing electronica flourishes.

Classic unrequited love song, and Karshøj sells it so well with her sultry authenticity, you’ll swear you’re in the throes of heartbreak, too.

On their ninth studio album, the veteran Philly crew adds indie rock to its formula, and after two straight downer albums, it has them sounding positively re-energized.

With its haunting risks that resonate, Love Remains is a perfect fall record.

All in all, a bewitchingly beautiful debut.

There is something especially poignant and inspired about his 12th studio album.

Every element is given space to shine--a nice break from the overproduced bedroom-recording sound that's become standard in indie rock.

The middle lags a bit, but that’s forgotten when ninth song Cold brings the breakup album home with simple piano and Brooks’s wounded singing.

Master Volume is a delightful, precise record. The band are at the top of their game on it, but it still feels like a no-stakes basement jam session between three friends. Maybe that’s why they’re so contagious: the Nil aren’t for the culture, they’re for the kids.

It's the ballads--a side of her repertoire that had taken a back seat to forgettable chart-chasers--that show Jackson's at her vocal and songwriting best.

Though he used songs from the same recording sessions for both, Humor Risk is quite a different collection, accessible and verbose by McCombs's standards.

It has a range of emotions, all showcasing Smith as one of the most unheralded songwriters out there today.

Short of pumping dry ice through your speakers, The Eldritch Dark captures the throbbing, gloomy energy that has long made Blood Ceremony one of the city’s finest live acts.

The Agent Intellect is a multi-layered, emotive powerhouse of a record.

Birds isn't a commercial risk, nor will Oasis fans find it a challenge, but that doesn't take away from its smart craftsmanship.

Addicted, Magic, Priceless and Fool No Mo are as sharply written and realized as they are unapologetically indulgent of heady atmospherics, each song its own exaltation of the understated power of Tweet's singular voice.

A few, like Lion In Winter Pt. 1 and 12-minute closer In The Beginning Is The End, test your patience, while others, like Nova Anthem and Lamb, become so surprisingly transcendent that they vanquish any and all tedium.

If you don’t drift off too early, though, it all resolves, making for a sonically rich and delicately nuanced album.

Things mostly stay low-key and subtle, with Ejstes's guitar growing righteously wild just once, on En Dag På Sjön, one of several instrumentals.

Ultimately, you sense Powell pushing, giving and breaking through.

West delivers another failsafe collection of sharp, soulful songs, exposing his new affinity for synths and electronic drums while adding new lyrical ground to that campus-sized ego.

The edge is still very much here. Prefuse can still drop it apocalyptic-style, as he proves on 'Prog Version Slowly Crushed.'

Acrobats drags a bit near the end, but there's no denying that it's a huge leap forward.

Shad's delivery and enunciation are impeccable. The only rewinds necessary are to catch lines like "hustle on the level of Barney Rubble on Red Bull." TSOL will no doubt give Shad the recognition he deserves.

Too Young To Be In Love leans less heavily on pervy wisecracks, with fantastic results.

Shannon Shaw's heart-in-throat vocals and the Clams' joyous abandon take hold right away and rip breezily but dramatically through 13 lovely new songs.

On his sixth album, the New York anti-folk singer/songwriter takes a step toward silencing the critics, tempering his creaky half-spoken vocals with some surprisingly sophisticated arrangements and harmonies with guests like Dr. Dog and Frances McKee of the Vaselines.

Shine is built around her voice and guitar (or piano) and will appeal to fans who'd rather hear yet another rendition of a familiar fave than anything experimental, which is probably why we get 'Big Yellow Taxi' (2007).

A highly polished 50s-girl-group sound prevails, bringing out production values that verge on cheesy but also string and vocal arrangements that are impressively, bombastically Bacharach.

Over the years, his raps grew less engrossing and his albums bombed atomically. But he’s back on point with OB4CL2, sounding as fierce and focused as ever.

The most poignant moments involve simple memories.

While you might be tempted to skip it, spending some time trying to absorb what he's getting at gives you a much richer context in which to appreciate his songwriting.

By tightening things up, another sprightly highlight emerges from this pleasant haze.

An endlessly listenable album.

This is music to lose yourself in.

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

The 30 songs follow the scene’s progression: the first half is classically minded R&B and soul that evolves on disc 2 into danceable funk, with Alexander O’Neal’s new wavey Do You Dare and Ronny Robbins’s electro-rap track Contagious.

The band’s best album to date.

Whether effervescent (the poppy Promise Not To Think About Love zips along on handclaps and a jaunty bass line) or solemn (elegiac closing track From Now On), her modern take on folk music often delves into the darkness, but always looks toward the light.

The group’s fifth disc is an infectious collection of bright rock songs (Whose Authority) and calm, soothing numbers (See These Bones).

The record's emotional centre hits toward the end, so stick around for Your Moon, a cathartic downer backed by processed strings and 808 claps.

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

It has hooks, but none as immediate as past Gorillaz hits Feel Good Inc. or 19-2000. This is a hefty offering clocking in at nearly an hour and featuring everyone from Lou Reed to Snoop Dogg.

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.

It's a holiday album that actually leaves you wanting more.

Crammed with 18 efficient minutes of material generated in the liminal period after 03's "Fever To Tell," Is Is comes closer to the lusty nails-scratching-down-a-lover's back energy of 'Date With The Night' or early Yeah Yeah Yeahs tracks like 'Art Star' than anything on 06's "Show Your Bones. "

What's on the surface is arresting, but there's far more to discover deep inside.

This is instant vintage.