And through the tragedy, what remains, this testament, is a spiraling exercise in gorgeous music, a record knee deep in that subtle legend, but ankle up a collection of tunes as haunting and surreal as the personas and events that surrounded it.

The point is that MAYA has to be taken as it comes, culture jam and all, and it's precisely at this point that it works out to be one of the most refreshing albums to hit the shelves in a long, long time.

The Stepford wives of shoegaze.

Freed from the aesthetic demands of an odd-couple partnership, Big Boi (Antwan Patton) improves on the standard set with 2003's Speakerboxxx, an ostensibly solo work crystallized inside a double-album set, delivering a record that's rigidly focused and almost uniformly strong.

Expo 86 proves that Krug and Boeckner still can do what's always been most important, namely writing songs that still kick *** at every available opportunity.

Even though the change in sound might alienate the most stubborn of fans, what they gain on their Barsuk debut is a new found sense of direction and a grandiose vision that stretches farther than the confines of math-rock ever could.

This album is audible therapy, complete with several cuts of Eminem apologizing, taking responsibility for being a terrible rapper, and promising to get better.

Stars are quickly carving out their own niche among their peers. And in doing so, they're writing some of the most fluid and organic music of their lives.

It may not be an especially immediate album, and is definitely not one which can be listened to as background music for fifty minutes, but its slow-burning qualities turn what initially may seem a little messy, into a satisfyingly cohesive release.

American Slang is a very subtle step forward from The '59 Sound, conjuring exactly the same thrills from slightly different angles. They're still the archetypal blue-collar all-American rock band given an emotionally sloppy, musically slick post-punk makeover.

Barbara is pure We Are Scientists, and in the context of the band's discography, it's hopelessly unoriginal but undoubtedly strong, the kind of record that will either have you tearing out your hair in frustration at a band that showed so much promise or singing along in your car to a CD chock-full of superb sing-a-longs.

It has always been those smooth, lush arrangements that have allowed Sarah to wear her heart on her sleeve without turning every song into an oppressively cheerless engagement, and that is still the case on Laws of Illusion.

The album is packed full of glossy guitar riffs, silly sing a long lyrics, and bombastic arena-rock choruses.

Stroud and Mast are still two of the best beat alchemists around, able to craft layer upon layer of instrument and sounds to brilliant effect, but it still sounds like you've all heard it before. It all leads to LP4 having little identity of its own, with the unfortunate tendency for tracks to blur into one another.

Sleigh Bells have crafted something entirely unique and that in itself is commendable, and the fact that they've done it with such a bold sound is all the more praiseworthy (or even surprising).

There is a savvy depth evident throughout ‘The Family Jewels’ which simply cannot be ignored; fun, serious, poppy and unorthodox, it is an album full of contradictions, but one which rarely fails to entertain.

There are a couple groovy licks scattered here and there which are half decent, but otherwise it's a tepid exercise in mediocrity difficult to even feign interest in.

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.

This is Happening is a marathon-length listen, as in, if you can find a way to deal with James Murphy’s silly, sometimes bizarre lyrical themes and grand scale tracks, it may be worth the wait.

They’ll never be one of the greats, but Band of Horses have proved that they’ve near mastered the art of making quality, old-fashioned rock ‘n roll.

Brothers marks for perhaps the first time in their career that the Black Keys may have opened the door on a new chapter, one that revolves more around the band’s refined songwriting, monster hooks, and growing grab bag of influences than on any one classic sound.

Nas and Damian Marley are a formidable pairing, seemingly on the same level throughout most of the album in thought and overall presence.

The Archandroid is everything her fans had been hoping for and then some; Monae has earned her place at the forefront of black music in 2010. This ballsy, funky, and furiously intelligent album is pop as everybody wishes it would be.

This is an album you can connect your own hopelessness with. It's weirdly relatable, this album, with not really its lyrical content but its various moods.

The National should give faith to anyone who has become disillusioned with indie music, anyone who misses a time where it didn't seem like all the musicians thought they were better than you and you could actually relate to the damn words they were singing. High Violet is another batch of cement to further supplement The National's already unshakable concrete career.

We've been left with a blatant emulation of a tired sound by a band that seems so uninspired that they couldn't even be bothered to make enough effort to differentiate their own songs from one another.

The riffs are meatier, the leads are catchier and the breakdowns, while still present, are reserved for only optimal moments, making The Powerless Rise an instantly memorable modern metal album.

While it is still caught a little in-between moods and is clearly front-loaded, ‘The Optimist’ feels more instinctive than ‘Fantastic Playroom’, and is ultimately a step up because of that.