And I Had A Dram That You Were Mine is a heck of a record. Leithauser’s vocal performance is practically unhinged, as intimate as it is performative. He has the intensity of an evangelical pastor on the bridge of “Sick as a Dog”. While his voice might be an acquired taste for some (see “1000 Times”), Leithauser’s performance is among the best in indie music this year.

The music itself is excellent too. Vampire Weekend will miss Batmanglij on their new record — it’s clear from I Had A Dream That You Were Mine that he’s a large part of their creative force. (According to Vampire Weekend’s lead vocalist Ezra Koenig, Rostam will still be contributing to their upcoming record — but who knows how much of it, or in what in capacity.)

It’s easy to compare I Had A Dream That You Were Mine to Vampire Weekend. Not unlike Rostam’s former band, there are no rules here. No two tracks are the same, often shifting from one genre to another (sometimes in a single song). “In a Black Out” feels like a flamenco-influenced pop piece, but “Rough Going (I Don’t Let Up”) pairs ’50s doo-wop with an indie sing-along chorus.

“A 1000 Times” shares the same genes as Vampire Weekend’s “Obvious Bicycle”, but it’s got the urgency and intensity of a Walkmen song. “The Bride’s Dad” has all the intensity of a Bob Dylan song. “The Morning Stars” has the musicality of Vampire Weekend, but the energy of a Walkmen song — but still sounds completely different from anything else on the record.

To be doubly clear: there are no rules here.

You can’t classify Leithauser + Rostam’s debut. That’s likely the point. Both musicians have something to prove. As an album, I Had A Dream That You Were Mine is a statement of creativity. These men want to be known not for their bands, but for their creative abilities.

Like every record from The Walkmen and Vampire Weekend, I Had A Dream That You Were Mine is special. It’s oozing with creativity. Its songwriting is impeccable. And its performances are top-notch. There’s nary a bad track. I Had A Dream That You Were Mine is a rare treat, and one of the year’s best.

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Consider Conqueror: it’s a giant, radio-friendly pop song with a simple piano riff for the chorus and a Coldplay-like guitar riff stacked behind it. It’s something your mother could listen to. But AURORA’s unusual, hypnotic voice makes it all feel very palatable. She gives it a sense of mystique.

Running with the Wolves is similar: the single is an obvious single that sounds destined for greatness in our Imagine Dragons era, but her voice saves the day again.

AURORA’s voice makes the quieter songs worth the price of admission. Lucky and Through the Eyes of a Child are two massive standouts on the record, given a sense of grace — and a hymnal quality — thanks to the Norwegian singer’s voice.

Much of these quieter tracks are reportedly influenced by Norwegian folk songs. Whether that’s true or not, they’ll bare an astounding resemblance to church music with North American audiences. As AURORA harmonizes with herself, she successfully emulates both Enya and the church choir, giving the album a much-needed sense of depth.

It all comes together on Warrior, the first potential single that feels like it really uses all of AURORA’s skills (and it comes very late in the album). Leaning on almost nothing but AURORA’s voice and a strong beat, Warrior lets the singer branch out and stretch her wings.

All My Demons Greeting Me as a Friend is an unusual pop album because it feels so stacked in its back half. Perhaps in a marketing move, the most bland radio songs are placed at the beginning of the record, and its most interesting radio-pleasers — Warrior and Murder Song (5, 4, 3, 2, 1) are left closer to the end.

When you listen to Warrior and Murder Song, it becomes apparent that AURORA listens to a lot of Björk. Before that, I wouldn’t have guessed. It’s on these tracks that AURORA feels like she’s free from the label’s requirements to put out generic pop songs and be herself, and they save the otherwise-generic singles from being totally forgettable (again, apart from her voice).

I’d love to hear an album of AURORA songs that sounds like the second half of this one. Until then, it’s clear that AURORA is a pop artist who still has to come into her own — but her future is promising.

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The Names is a good mix of electronic and pop that’s really nothing like Vampire Weekend. Where they specialize in weird genre-tripping music, The Names almost feels more conventional (or about as conventional as trippy electronic pop can be).

That doesn’t mean it’s not a great record; it just means that it’s a bit of a different record. It’s one of the catchiest I’ve heard this year, and it’s got some wild sounds and interesting experiments on it.

I wonder if the next Vampire Weekend record will borrow from this style…

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HOLYCHILD are a duo from L.A. made up of Nistico and Louie Diller, and on first listen, it’s no surprise that they’re from L.A. They sound like they belong in the Mean Girls sound track in front of Miley Cyrus and Taylor Swift, and they have the aggressive, Trent Reznor-inspired bass kick to prove it.

The Shape of Brat Pop to Come is filled with moments that feel lifted from many of their contemporaries, but it never feels clichéd or comfortable. Thanks to Nistico’s lyrics, it’s actually the opposite: the band feels like they’re on the precipice of what’s acceptable in pop culture, as they mock it for all it’s worth and scream about its insensibilities.

On Nasty Girls, Nistico sings “Hey! Hey! Give it up! We don’t matter anyway! Boys like nasty girls! Take him on a holiday!” That sexual passivity, placed against aggressive pop synths, veers towards uncomfortable, but it’s clear that HOLYCHILD has a point. Maybe it’s thanks to HOLYCHILD’s background in L.A., but the band is aware of misogynists and ready to give each of them the finger.

None of this is new; a lot of pop bands have come up with this message before. Few of them, though, do it with the consistent songwriting ability that HOLYCHILD brings to the table. Despite the theme being consistently in-your-face, perhaps to the point of making some conservatives feel uncomfortable, The Shape of Brat Pop to Come is almost always catchy, with rarely a missed beat.

The lyrics have the benefit of giving a band with an extraordinary amount of polish an ability to sound raw. The Shape of Brat Pop to Come is an interesting record that proves there are some voices left in pop music with interesting things to say. If HOLYCHILD can continue on their current career path, their future will be interesting indeed.

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Listen to Closed Hand, Full of Friends. The chorus is as adult alternative pop as it gets, but who cares? This is seriously catchy. I could listen to this song on repeat.

Thankfully, Foy’s not writing catchy anthems constantly: the title track is great too, and definitely sadder. You and I is one of those male/female country duets, but it’s better than it ought to be. Janey is catchy and enthusiastic, and Paper Prince seems to glide with a glossy pop quality that somehow reminds me of some of Foo Fighters’ quiet songs (and might be my favourite on the album).

On It Was Good, Foy is doing some of my favourite tricks, dancing around with his voice and the guitar interlocking together. It’s cool. Guiding Light, the final track, features Ed Sheeran. Nothing I can say gives this album more stronger credit than simply saying it features Ed Sheeran.

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On first blush, you might confuse Two Door Cinema Club with indie pop bands like Phoenix. I’m not sure I like the comparison. While these bands all certainly share some influence, Two Door Cinema Club is uniquely groovy, with a certain “je ne sais quoi” that the other bands don’t have. At times, Two Door Cinema Club doesn’t have the same pure pop thrills of Phoenix — or even some of their contemporaries. But what they do have is a certain charm that the others can’t lay claim to.

Sun is one of those catchy tunes that grabs you and doesn’t let go the moment it starts. And despite their shiny pop exterior, songs like Next Year and Sleep Alone are actually pretty sad reflections on being away from home for too long.

I liked Two Door Cinema Club’s last record, Tourist History, but Beacon reveals stunning musical growth and maturity. (Also, they combine influences like Dexter and The Big Lebowski in the video for Handshake, the newest single from the album. The song isn’t my favourite, but the video is just bizarre enough to earn its own special mention.)

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