DIY, dissonance, danger.

As of this week, "B-Room" by Dr. Dog sits atop the CMJ top 20. CMJ stands for College Music Journal, and this is important to mention because "B-Room" sounds like it could have been the college soundtrack of any of the past four decades. Reminiscent of Bob Dylan and Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young, it's an album that at times feels like listening to a series of cross-stitch sentiments. "Follow the distant light." "The truth don't stop." "A long way down means a long way up." "You can laugh about it if you just let go." You can clearly picture your college-aged self saying, "Yeah, man, so TRUE, dude!" between sips of cheap beer. Or, maybe you'll do that nowadays. I'm not here to judge.

November 5th has been burned in my brain for a while now because it was the scheduled release date for "Matangi," the latest from M.I.A. After her last album, which was a bit more experimental and industrial than her previous releases, it was hard to know what to expect. "Matangi," as it turns out, has the most pop sensibility of any of her albums—the songs are relentlessly hook-y, hyper-sexy and crazy danceable, but in a distinctly M.I.A. way, utilizing samples and synths and infusing it all with Middle Eastern musical influence. It's pure adrenaline, and let's be honest, listening to it might make you feel like a bit of a bad-ass yourself.

Have you ever listened to music so dissonant that after a while it starts to sound melodic relative only to itself? It's something you might experience while listening to an avant garde piece like Alvin Lucier's "I Am Sitting In a Room" (where words distort and degrade over time until they change into notes). While it requires a lot of the listener, it rewards the listener, too, because the listener ultimately finds him or herself in the work. New-York-based Yvette, a two-piece industrial band, produces such music. Their debut, "Process," is aggressive instrumentally—making order out of the chaos of effects and synthesizers with the help of steady, insistent drumming—while remaining cold and indifferent vocally. It's a juxtaposition that works well for them.

Black Milk (real name: Curtis Cross) is the embodiment of DIY, having started out in his Detroit basement with a cheap drum machine and a karaoke system. Perhaps this ability to make due with limited resources is what makes the samples and beats on "No Poison No Paradise" so ingenious. It's a semi-autobiographical concept album, dealing with growing up in Detroit in the 80s and 90s. Tracks like "Sunday's Best" have the imagery (both lyrically and aurally) to put you front row center for that moment in time. Hearkening back to 90s era rap acts like Tribe Called Quest and De La Soul, this is hip hop that's catchy without sacrificing the message.