Compared to 2009 debut Tentacles, Two-Way Mirror is much easier to stomach—which is basically the root of its problems.

Psychedelic folk heroes of the Pacific Northwest Jackie-O Motherf--ker specialize in doing whatever they want to do. More often than not, the thing they decide to do is to go very weird and disconnected, but don’t count on it.

Though it’s being released during summer’s stranglehold, it’s difficult to imagine anybody using the Book of Knots’ Garden of Fainting Stars as the soundtrack for a barbecue. This third studio album from the experimental Brooklyn quartet is a more fitting ...

On her first solo album, Friedberger doesn’t sound all that much different than the Fiery Furnaces, although she’s less trying than some of her band’s more experimental efforts.

Toss together a bucket of glitter, a case of energy drinks, and five talented twentysomethings and you just might end up with Lafayette, La.’s Givers—or maybe a makeshift rave.

What makes one drone as soothing and encompassing and soul-tugging as the sound of the womb and another a flat, dull noise? Maybe it’s as individual as, well, the womb, but it’s possible Romain Barbot of Toulouse, France, has discovered ...

On its fifth release, Vetiver triggers an almost hypnotic reaction, tossing out the catchy choruses and four-minute songs from 2009’s Tight Knit.

Bon Iver is no longer Justin Vernon. This is officially a band, not a solo album tied together with a few stray outside overdubs.

Seattle’s Shabazz Palaces, by design, is a project shrouded (often literally shrouded) in mystery.

Nobody will be putting a ring on this one.

Autopsy returns with a reunion album that drummer/singer Chris Reifert repeatedly said would never happen, and if Macabre Eternal is not as good as Mental Funeral, it is still a crushing round of old-school mayhem.

As if any other evidence were needed that F--ked Up transcend hardcore, they’ve gone and written themselves a 77-minute rock opera.

Since their days as chaos-reigning noisemakers, legendary for their crowd assaults, spitwads, and general debauchery, into their smooth transition to critically acclaimed “flower-punk” studio craftsmen, the Black Lips have been praised consistently for one attribute: not caring what anyone else ...

Newbury’s greatest claim on our cultural memory is as a cryptic footnote, alongside the equally obscure Jerry Jeff Walker, in Waylon Jennings’ outlaw anthem “Luckenbach, Texas.”

Moby retreats into his own insular electronic cocoon with Destroyed, his 10th album. The template is synth-pad atmosphere and crackling beats, outfitted with the occasional vocal sample, guest appearance, or vocoder swirl.