After years of being a tour guide and putting himself in other people’s shoes, Sufjan Stevens looks inward and finds a wealth of material, as well as a new sound. More electronic, more focused, more muscular, and yet more personal and vulnerable, The Age of Adz shows another side of Stevens. No album better encapsulates our confusing times.

Win Butler and company find majesty in suburbia and aging—taboo rock subjects turned into one of the most relatable albums in recent memory. Few lyricists can use the first person plural (“We Used to Wait”) to such a welcoming effect. The Suburbs feels like a hug from someone you haven’t seen in a long time.

Seductive siren calls, tangled organs, and slide guitar swirl and ooze through each song on Teen Dream, the third and most enticing Beach House record. Victoria Legrand and Alex Scally have always had a way of haunting songs with a plush, autumnal aura, but this time, pulsing beats and percussion bring life to the dreamy landscape.

Vestiges of The Strokes, Stereolab, and author Dennis Cooper waft through the ether like holy ghosts on Halcyon Digest. Bradford Cox wears his influences and heart on his sleeve, but never in a manner that deigns to cheap sentimentality, as exhibited on closer “He Would Have Laughed,” his heartbreakingly poignant tribute to Jay Reatard.

Signing to Diddy’s Bad Boy label did nothing to tame outsider soul singer Janelle Monáe’s eccentricities on her full-length debut, a brazenly ambitious art-funk opera with a dense, sci-fi mythology worthy of Isaac Asimov. Monáe’s show-stopping voice sells this material, but it’s her unabashed geekiness that makes it so lovable.

Even without cover stories in Under the Radar and The New York Times Magazine, The National still would’ve been on everyone’s lips this year. Both maudlin and sophisticated, High Violet maintains its last-call buzz all the way through, as the band meets every expectation that Alligator and Boxer thrust upon them.

2010’s most pleasant surprise, the debut by Local Natives shows a remarkable sense of confidence, going full bore for 12 highly melodic tracks without a dip in quality. Matt Frazier often leads the assault with his creative and energetic drumming, but the beauty is in the luscious harmonies. Gorilla Manor doesn’t reinvent the wheel, sounding like a harder-charging Fleet Foxes, but produces a very satisfying ride indeed.

Mark Ronson’s aptly titled third full-length plays like the 14 best pop singles you’ve never heard, performed by an eccentric mix of performers that includes the likes of Rose Elinor Dougall, Boy George, Simon Le Bon, and Q-Tip. This is a party you want to join—a bombastic celebration of kitsch-splashed pop that often exceeds even the loftiest dance ambitions.

Already a go-to act for hip TV show/commercial soundtracking, The Black Keys finally broke out with the release of Brothers. For their sixth album, the duo pulled off an irresistible hook-up between blues-rock, garage rock, and soul that would have been unthinkable as a hit 10 years ago.

Swedish duo Club 8 provided an antidote for people’s woes with The People’s Record. After a string of albums offering well-crafted pop pleasures, Karolina Komstedt and Johan Angergård brought in some friends to look well beyond their borders for a giddy mix of Brazilian polyrhythms, Afrobeat, and pure sunshine.

Yeasayer transcend their neo-hippie tag on the stunning Odd Blood. A headphone listen reveals nuances evocative of the scene in 2001: A Space Odyssey when astronaut Dave Bowman flies through the sound and wind tunnel and everything blurs into a rush of colors and sounds. It’s that scary. And good.

The singer/songwriter/harpist exhibits greater vocal agility and a more direct style of lyric writing on her third album, an expansive triple LP that juxtaposes compact harp-and-voice ballads with winding, eclectically arranged narratives. Piano and percussion are more prominent, while influences range from Faulkner to Joni Mitchell to European folk, making Have One on Me Newsom’s most diverse work yet.

The Manchester trio’s debut album Acolyte is a spry salute to youth, filled with cool beats, crisp guitars, and icy synths. Impossibly catchy and impressively cohesive, there’s a party waiting to happen in every one of these 10 tracks. Delphic has aimed high, and hit even higher.

Why did people respond to Sleigh Bells? Maybe because if Treats was playing anywhere within earshot, it was inescapable. With guitars set to stun, beats designed to weaken building foundations, and Alexis Kraus’ inviting vocals riding over the top like a siren song, resistance was futile.

A thesis statement of sorts, Avi Buffalo pay homage to the likes of Wilco, Neil Young, and The Shins throughout their terrific self-titled debut. But they do it without losing touch with the imagination of youth, while still evincing a vulnerable self-awareness that augurs a fine dissertation to come.

George Lewis Jr., aka Twin Shadow, could write a how-to manual on crafting killer synth hooks. But what really makes Forget resonate is the astounding emotional clarity with which he addresses the deterioration of a relationship, which, no matter how hard he tries, he can’t make himself forget.

James Murphy and Co. conclude a remarkable trilogy with possibly the strongest of the bunch. With playfully acerbic wit and a heavy heart, This Is Happening does just as much to define the beginning of the decade’s generational gap as it allows us to lose our worries by shuffling our feet to Murphy’s consistently compelling tunes.

Announcing itself with a two-chord riff and thunderous drums, Surfer Blood’s debut bursts out of the gate and never looks back, channeling the likes of early Weezer and Built to Spill with big choruses and fuzzy guitars. Top to bottom, Astro Coast never loses steam, always sounding familiar, but never derivative.

The trio’s last album was one of 2008’s best, but the follow-up is even better, expanding upon the band’s folk-flavored sound with diversity and a rougher edge. The hazy “Swinging Bells” segues into the rhythmically pulsing “American Idol.” “Undone Melody” builds to string-filled catharsis, and “Kon Tiki” is saucy, swinging soul. Plainly, La La Land is Plants and Animals’ masterwork.

Too often seen as just the straight man to André 3000 in OutKast, Big Boi reveals himself to be one hell of a court jester on his solo album, a delirious party-rap record that has way too much fun to stop and congratulate itself on how boundary-pushing it is.

At this point, The Radio Dept. could write the book on indie. The tools are simple: drum machines, strummed guitars, samples, and a disembodied voice so soothing and surprisingly optimistic, you might miss he’s actually telling you about love and labors lost. The result? Another near-classic mediation on the complexity of youthful sadness.