While this experimentation is sometimes seamless, sometimes fun, and sometimes distracting, Hawke's distinctive, vulnerable rasp, wispy melodies, and perceptive lyrics keep the album on track.

No doubt there will be those who do want to hear all the gory details and be surrounded by big, billowing sounds and LP4 will be just what they need. Anyone in search of the sparse beauty and icy textures of their early work will no doubt be left reaching back to give their first two records a spin and give this one a pass.

This set veers more toward the earnest and inspirational stadium-singalong-anthem part of the band's personality (think "City of Blinding Lights," "Where the Streets Have No Name," "I Still Haven't Found..." and that ilk).

It's overstuffed and bland at once, with some legitimately great production spoiled by vacant lyricism and lack of personality.

His lyrics and performances are lacking in original thought (sometimes clear thought) and charisma. The power and range of his singing voice are limited to the point where the musicians often sound constricted, and the mix is just as sympathetic, rendering Stéphane Clément's trumpet -- presumably the answer to "We need a Roy Hargrove type" -- close to inaudible.

Volumes: One (Selections from Music Concerts 2019-2023 6 Piece Band) might not be everyone's first choice for an archives dig, but it's clear the Vernon felt great love for this band and the sound they were able to whip up on-stage, so it's hard to complain too much.

It's admirable that Palermo doesn't want to stick to just one sound, and some of the experiments work well, it's just that, ultimately, the misfires far outweigh the moments of promise.

Morrissey’s singular personality is on full display, and just as uncompromising as ever, but sitting through an entire album of his musings and moanings circa 2026 is less than fun.

Delivers a denouement and a love letter to fans with an assured set rooted in the genre's sonic hallmarks.

Tenterhooks is one of the darker and more internal SSPU albums that stresses atmosphere over energy, which will hit listeners who enjoy their more thoughtful and introspective material, but may miss fans craving cathartic ragers and catchy anthems.

It's all fine and good, but it lacks the excitement of the Buzzcocks' salad days.

The release is a set of moody trap numbers with sharp beats and stark lyrics about hustling and street life. He also spends time roasting online haters and addressing Internet drama.

The surplus of ambling ballads, especially during a stretch in the latter half that features the soft voices of Justin Vernon, Yebba, and Hynes, blurs the line between pleasantly languid and laborious. Near the end, there's a slight uptick in intensity.

While Infinite doesn't eclipse any of Mobb Deep's classic recordings, it's a treat for fans and does not dilute the legacy.

This is less about hooks and more about mood. The mood is heavy and only begins to lift in the George Clinton-assisted finale. Miguel's voice remains a marvel, commanding enough to enliven substandard material.

With the exception of a few clunkers, this disjointed flow becomes a defining characteristic of Love Chant. There’s a sense throughout that Dando is now comfortable enough with himself to take all the time he needs to explore weird ideas and decide where they start and end. That embrace of his own artistic whims is admirable, as is his choice to tread new ground rather than try to re-create his most successful work from the past.

A song like "Maelstrom" lets loose with a thundering bass drum and more-distant syncopated snare. For the most part, though, tracks levitate above ground along webs of acoustic guitar, piano, layered vocals, and atmospheric shimmer to the point where it's sometimes difficult to distinguish one song from another.

While there are some faint echoes of that personality and complexity on UY SCUTI, the essence of what made him so special is largely lost in a clutter of disconnected or only partially realized ideas.

With JACKBOYS 2 delivering nothing to really bite into, all there is to do is chew on it awhile and spit it back out.

One of those songs, "Daisies," also involves the unmistakable Mk.gee, and for Bieber it's a career highlight, a gentle rocker conveying an ultra-rare combination of anticipation, patience, and empathy. More often, Bieber's direct and inelegant wordplay is at odds with the hazy sonics.

This may be somewhat of a disappointment for expecting more from the vault: regardless of how good these selections may be, there's only seven remixes and just one demo of a "new" song that wasn't on the original Ray of Light. For more forgiving fans, however, this release offers a fascinating peek into the era, providing more intense, trance-y forays for some much beloved tracks.

All told, Precipice is enjoyably hooky, but taking the edge off of her sound and, ultimately, songs doesn't do their emotional weight any favors, even if -- or rather because -- it makes them go down easier.

Some of the ideas on The Fateful Symmetry seem a bit mismatched, and not all of the songs really work, but it does have its poignant moments.

Overall, American Heart is pleasant, but lacks some of the rock'n'roll kick and glitz that Boone's stage flipping antics imply; a momentary rush of moonbeam ice cream that leaves a sweet aftertaste, but not much else.

2025's Walk This Road, however, bridges these two eras of the Doobie Brothers, with core members Tom Johnston, Patrick Simmons, and John McFee joined in the studio by Michael McDonald, and the result is album that honors the band's rocking spirit while making room for McDonald's soul-satisfying vocal style.

The magic is sadly absent from this overly-upholstered, clumsily ornate, and intensely disappointing return trip into the realm of boogie rock.

I'm the Problem sees Morgan Wallen deliver another sprawling double-LP.

Lil Wayne exhibits glimpses of the brazen genius of his earlier self intermittently on Tha Carter VI, but the album feels like a battle between those moments of greatness and the rest of his weird swings and inadvisable choices.

Pink Elephant feels like an album Arcade Fire "had to" make, one that addresses a very public period of the band's history without getting too deep (or deep enough at all) into the matter, like they just want everyone to forget about it and move on to the inevitable next album cycle.

Whether, taken together, the take-me-or-leave-me Bloodless is ultimately appropriately chaotic and admirably confrontational or, rather, overcooked is up to the beholder, but Samia's knack for strong melodic hooks and open vulnerability here are unquestionable and consistent.

$ome $exy $ongs 4 U is business as usual for Drake (mostly in R&B mode this time) and PartyNextDoor. In Drake's case, he tries to sound romantic but comes off as bitter and jealous, PartyNextDoor merely seems like a supportive friend who doesn't want to cause any more trouble.

The album sees Cench find new collaborations with rising Puerto Rican star Young Miko and grime pioneer Skepta, alongside another link-up with Dave following the pair's number one-charting "Sprinter" in 2023.

If you already know where you stand on this guy's music, then you already know whether or not it's worth your time.

The LP includes the singles "Malibu," "Caroline," and the propulsive, boot-stomping title cut.

Too much of this record sounds like it could have been made by almost anyone and that's not good, and neither in the end is SABLE, fABLE.

At least lyrically, Flür is trying to glance forward at the future on Times more than he did on his previous albums, which nostalgically referenced his past. Like his other albums, however, the songs themselves aren't always exciting, as well-produced as they are.

It's a shame that a majority of the album suffers from this cookie cutter sameness when at other times SASAMI can craft music that does have some personality and excitement. Just not enough to make Blood on the Silver Screen feel like anything other than a huge misstep.

It's a flawlessly executed document of pristine production and incremental bursts of verve and joy to keep the music from dissolving into its own atmosphere. The challenge here, however, is finding the right mood to appreciate the Weeknd's lengthy and elaborate funeral for himself.

The editing and sequencing on Downstate are more a part of the listening experience here than on the previous album, with quick transitions, trippy fades, and unexpected pitch changes all adding weirdness to an already warped set of jams.

Animal Collective completists will be able to zero in on what makes Geologist’s language of samples and deconstructed loops unique, but to the untrained ear, it might register mostly as broken music begging to be pieced back together.

Even all these big-name friends can't save WHAM from mediocrity, though. Lil Baby's flows, presentation, and beat selection are all laughably generic, to the point that any lyrical cleverness or hint of interesting perspectives he might have get washed away in the flood of less-than-memorable sounds.

Although inessential in the context of Olsen's output, Cosmic Waves is a great idea well-executed, with the covers lending a needed gravitas and collectability to what would otherwise be a playlist project.

While it doesn’t really come close to capturing the lightning-in-a-bottle power of Doggystyle, there’s enough of that original spirit mixed with a modernized production sound to make Missionary one of Snoop’s more enjoyable full album listening experiences in several years.

While Why Is the Colour of the Sky? doesn't offer any particularly memorable tunes or sentiments, it's definitely a vibe, and at 35 minutes in length doesn't overstay its welcome despite becoming quite immersive.

From Zero is a decent effort that contains all the band's hallmarks, even if it's not the exact same Linkin Park that is known and loved.

Coming from an artist whose personality was at times their entire appeal, Eternal Atake 2's lack of compelling identity makes it even more of a letdown.

For the most part, however, Bouquet is a hollow shell of the artistry that Stefani once displayed at every turn. As basic, personality-free country-rock records go, Bouquet is perfectly serviceable.

They’ve never been the most consistent band, making mistakes and careening down the wrong road in pursuit of transcendence – something they have managed to achieve a few magical times -- but they’ve never sounded this irrelevant or out of touch before.

While Key seems worthwhile as an exploration of how songs can grow and change over time, just like people, it's unlikely any of the songs are transformed enough to warrant a fan exodus from the originals. On top of that, the selections' mix of popular and lesser-known make it a lackluster hits collection. What may win over some listeners, however, is its knowing, somewhat ominous tone and its function as a songwriting showcase.

The finished product is so muddled in many of its would-be fleeting spaces as to elicit the phrase: Just because you can doesn't necessarily mean you should.

Dreamstate feels like Owens' attempt at reaching the sort of mainstream success that someone like Peggy Gou has achieved, and while it does contain some worthwhile material, overall it just doesn't add up.

The release pauses for a moment of solemn reflection with the extremely vulnerable "LOST MY DOG." "SURFING A TSUNAMI" also deserves mention for its flood of ambient synths which elevate the drama. Otherwise, the release largely sounds like what fans would expect from Future.

It does feel like a b-sides, here's-what's-left collection at times, for better or worse. However, for fans clamoring for more of anything from Berryman, Buckland, Champion, and Martin, this'll do the trick.

There's a smattering of solid material here, but it's a lateral move at best, and for fans, it's hard not to wish for something more focused, more personal, and more notable.

Sadly, Flight b741 is the first record they've made where it might make more sense to avoid the journey and stick to revisiting some of their glorious excursions of the past instead.

SMILE! :D was clearly created with the intention of dealing with sharply conflicting emotions, but it still ends up being more uneven than expected, and it's just not as successful as Nurture.

The standout songs are great: the relentless bounce of "Did It First" with Central Cee is infectious in its fluidity, the sophomoric and slippery "Think U the Shit (Fart)" matches ridiculous lyrical brags with an undeniably funky instrumental, and "Gimme a Light" amps up a classic Sean Paul sample with a buzzing drill beat and Ice Spice's furious flow. The less substantial tracks blur together, even with help from other rap stars.

It's telling that it takes cameos from a pair of rock superstars -- John Mayer helps sculpt "Better Days," Bruce Springsteen haunts the corridors of "Sandpaper" -- to help pull Bryan's aspirations into focus: where the rest of the record seems caught in its own head, these tunes have a forward motion that makes the rest of The Great American Bar Scene seem relatively bereft of musical imagination.

If it's possible to be fun and tedious at the same time, Lady on the Cusp fits the bill.

Sounds pleasant enough, but Greene's songs and production are so placid and unbothered by anything remotely emotional that it's hard to imagine the album causing any kind of reaction.

Heartfelt and well-built songs like "Cheap Coffee" and "We Are Loved" help anchor the set, but there's an underlying banality that keeps it from greatness. Still, it's an improvement on its predecessor.

Jon does sound more robust than he did on, say, 2020. It's also true that Bon Jovi isn't making music that would push their singer to his limits. Forever is filled with ballads and midtempo anthems that would sound bigger on an adult contemporary station than an arena. The subdued nature is accentuated by Bon Jovi's proud embrace of nostalgia.

The bulk of Gunna's boastful wordplay is less inspired than normal, though that shortcoming is mitigated by a handful of bravely reflective and revealing deep cuts.

A Dream Is All We Know mixes up its subjects of study but chooses obsessively detailed replication over the hints of originality and vulnerable emotions that start emerging when the Lemon Twigs let their guard down.

Cole's bars concentrate primarily on how far ahead of everyone else in the game he is and how his skills are unapproachable.

WE STILL DON'T TRUST YOU is a nearly 90-minute sprawl divided into two parts.

Fun sonic flourishes abound, like the heady call-and-response of "Incognito" or the winding melody that gives "Explorer" a phantom of the discotheque vibe, but ultimately, Hyperdrama is neither catchy enough to play to the duo's pop strengths nor bold enough to highlight Justice's experimental skills.

The first half verges on sluggish -- the call to "Release the pressure -- big, big fun" comes across as unenthusiastic, maybe even sarcastic -- but most of the songs do have an alluring quality. There's considerably more verve and buoyancy to the second half.

While the feelings here are melodramatic and overexpressed, sometimes to the point of ridiculousness, this also has some of Swift’s best work, and much of the best pop music ever made.

Jim White is undoubtedly a masterful musician, but All Hits: Memories never quite gets off the ground, and it feels like the type of record that might be of interest to fellow drummers but will have limited appeal for anyone else.

Time will tell if Lavers is snatched up for work in scoring or if he will develop his songwriting on future albums, but based on this under-30-minute taste, his handiwork seems destined for continuation.

It finds the rap luminaries more or less staying in their respective lanes. Metro Boomin's beats are typically cold and ominous yet lustrous, and Future sticks to familiar subjects such as drugs, sex, and luxury fashion.

On the whole, Interplay is interesting but inconsistent, landing more like a collection of ideas being fleshed out than a cohesive album experience. Ultimately, it's commendable that Ride continue to reach beyond their past, but the best moments of Interplay are the ones that remind the listener what made the band so unique to begin with.

Some focus and editing would have really helped because there's a great album buried somewhere in here.

Here everything feels like a copy of something that had already been done better by another band. In the end, there's little to no reason to pull this record out instead of Siamese Dream or Nothing's Shocking. Or the other three Meatbodies albums, which have all the oddball thrills and unique perspective Flora Ocean Tiger Bloom seems to have lost along the bumpy journey to completion.

Yeat's creative drive is admirable, but unfortunately 2093 just doesn't live up to its lofty concept.

The material occasionally slides backward, from subtle and reserved to nearly featureless, but it's as clever and almost as charming as Sensational.

A rather inoffensive listening experience, a middle ground that Idles have mostly been able to avoid until now.

Kanye has shown the world his unfiltered megalomania, heartbreak, self-obsession, self-contempt, and confusion, and even at its most ghastly, it's always been at least a little bit exciting or provocative. On Vultures 1, he struggles to show much of anything, crafting songs that are loud and shiny, but still largely blank.

Pink Friday 2 lacks the cohesion and self-editing that would make it a rightful follow-up to her 2010 mainstream arrival. As it stands, Pink Friday 2 is another collection of Nicki Minaj songs, most of them exhilarating and fun, but some forgettable or awkwardly placed.

The starkness of the arrangements helps draw attention to the distance between the origin of a song and Young's present. Now creeping toward 80, Young doesn't sound fragile yet his vocals display some age-related raggedness. Embracing his weathered, keening voice, Young highlights the tender yearning that runs throughout these songs.

2023's The First Time is a 20-song album that more or less revisits the tones and styles Laroi laid out over the three previous years.

Blockbusta is not without its instances of fun and excitement, but for the most part, Busta Rhymes sounds like he's reaching for something different on almost every track and not quite grabbing ahold of any of it.

Burton's falsetto feels like part of the tapestry masterminded by Quesada, never quite pulling attention to either his words or melodies. While this ultimately means that Chronicles of a Diamond doesn't leave enough hooks behind to linger in the memory, the pulsating, colorful vibrations it creates as its spins are certainly an enjoyable way to get lost in the ether for a half hour or so.

Its seven tracks are rhythmically labyrinthine, unhurried in tempo, with clamping drums and cosmic synthesizers that burble, prance, and sometimes create a sense of menace.

The Silver Cord was released in two different editions; one with the songs edited to around four minutes each, one where the songs stretch out over the ten minute mark. The extended versions don't add much to the overall effect of the album, merely giving the listener more time to wonder why the band chose to go down this route.

Action Adventure doesn't sound like DJ Shadow's other records, but it's exactly the type of album he would make -- a risky, expectation-bucking set that only fully makes sense to the artist himself.

An album that continues very much in the melancholy vein of its predecessor while taking a generally looser approach to arrangements.

With a more congruous title, "Anxiety's Rainbow" is an album highlight for its marriage of rousing melody, dissonance, and groove, while the rest is interesting enough to hope for more from this ambitious isolation-induced project.

Chock-full of brusque rhymes that, even with occasional respite with the odd slow jam, become mind-numbing over the course of its hour-long duration, Scarlet is a fascinating follow-up to Planet Her.

It might not be the worst Drake album, but it's in the conversation for sure.

The Dark Side of the Moon Redux doesn't offer uninterrupted talk but the stress is placed firmly on the words, to the point that "The Great Gig in the Sky" now doesn't float weightlessly: it's now about a letter Waters wrote to the assistant to Donald Hall when the poet was in his last days. It's a subtle change but it's a substantial one, turning Dark Side of the Moon into a voyage inward, not outward.

An album that sustains a mellow, melancholy mood without quite distinguishing itself as a collection of individual songs. Then again, that's kind of the point of the album: it's a pensive soundtrack for a specific season, nothing more and nothing less.

Ashnikko is part rage rapper, part feminist pop star, part disaffected rocker with emo-goth tendencies, but still somehow categorically none of the above, donning a new mask for each new expression.

As a whole, End of the Day taps into the stillness that's flowed through Tell Me How You Really Feel and Things Take Time, Take Time, a melancholy that's as restorative as it is depressive. That feeling when not married to singing and lyrics winds up offering some measure of comfort. Free of melody, hooks or other organizing themes, this music merely floats, a soothing sound to those who share its wavelength.

Emotional Contracts finds Deer Tick operating at full power and making very few advancements from previous albums, seeing no need to fix what isn't broken with their meat-and-potatoes, blue-collar rock sound.

A bevy of producers, highlighted by Jennifer Decilveo (Bat for Lashes, Anne-Marie) and Daniel Tannenbaum (Kendrick Lamar), do admirable, evocative work, but the songs and feeling get lost under the layers of sound, particularly at the album's hour-long running time.

Here Lydon has ideas and sounds focused on making them into something, and he has a band capable of giving him all the support he needs. It's not entirely successful, but it's not lazy, either, and at this stage of Lydon's career (and given a very trying situation at home), that's to be commended.