A (largely instrumental) record that's considerably more sophisticated, atmospheric, and arty than some of his professed inspirations.

A nifty encapsulation of the group's style and attributes--the Killers cannily use the singles-centric conceit to showcase the band at their overblown best, emphasizing their arena-sized neo-new wave just slightly over their Springsteenisms

They've made a good career out of mixing the tongue-in-cheek with the truth, and Stoke Extinguisher is another in a long line of solid releases from a band that's made drifting between not caring at all and caring too much into an art form.

The EP that preceded this album set the marker high for the Norwegian quintet, but they more than deliver here with a brave and diverse collection of songs.

The EP leads with a pair of sludgy pysch jams, decelerates for the slightly abrasive "drumless space" of "Coma," and closes with the side-long "Radial," which begins and ends with shifting drones that flank seven minutes of searing menace that recall early, "the Can"-era Can.

Carter Tutti Void create drone albums of great worth and value, leaving the other electro shaman stuck in a loop.

It sounds street smart and thoughtful as it acknowledges past glories and the slowly narrowing road that lies ahead.

As an entry in Wilson's catalog, 4½ comes off as a fully considered EP, although leaving off "Year of the Plague" would have made it stronger. His obsessive attention to detail is everywhere in the production, but more than that, most of this provides fans with another fantastic showcase for his amazing band, excellent writing, and fine arranging.

It's certainly not an upbeat listen, nor are its myriad regional allusions easy to parse for non-Australians, but it engages enough on a cerebral level that it's consistently intoxicating, even at its most lethal.

It's heavy stuff, but it's delivered with the humility of someone who has enough road behind him now that the rear-view mirror is no longer a window into the past, but a seconds-old snapshot of the present.

The ambition on this first part of Prayers for the Damned is admirable. Better still, they often manage to take this roiling outrage and shape it into something melodramatically satisfying, an achievement that suggests why Sixx had no trouble saying goodbye to Mötley Crüe.

The balance between these quiet, thoughtful songs, the needle-bouncing rockers, and the jumping Monkees-ish pop of tracks like "Stick Your Hand Up if You're Louche" makes for a thrill ride of an album, and a better example of modern guitar pop than Cosmonaut is pretty hard to find no matter where one might look.

If Terraform does little to diminish the notion that Roberts is one of the best kept secrets of Canadian pop, it goes a long way in promoting the idea that it's never too late to make a new discovery.

Even if Goddard is occasionally too reverent on Electric Lines, his love of electronic music--and the way it brings people together--is undeniable and infectious.

Nau's delivery, if occasionally annoyed that the topics at hand aren't being handled better, remains unflustered, gravitating back toward calm appreciation. It's a high-humidity set for long summer days, present or imagined.

At once exploratory, expressive, physical, and reflective, On Circles never forsakes musicality for dramatic affect but achieves it in spades nonetheless.

It's hard to believe that after two decades together as a band Peter Bjorn and John are still making records as intense, energetic, inventive, and vital as Endless Dream.

While a bit muddled and confusing, the album certainly invites the audience to listen attentively and figure out their own interpretations.

It's fun, mischievous, and wildly enjoyable, Brettin and friends turning straight-laced soul-funk and Weather Channel jazz inside-out and dancing gleefully around the confusing and wonderful results.

Another step in the direction of propriety may have been one too many, as it stands Backhand Deals slides right into the corporate power pop timeline with just the right amount of vim and vigor.

Though it lacks the well-edited flow of Heartbreak, it shows Unloved can still push pop's boundaries with vivid results.

Now that they're veterans, Nickelback doesn't try so hard to be heavy, nor do they indulge in their tasteless side: they're craftsmen who know how to deliver the goods, which--on its own terms--Get Rollin' certainly does.

Other One feels like it was pulled through a wormhole from a universe where a committee writes Babymetal's metallic pop emissions, intent on flowing with the current instead of against it.

With A Modern Day Distraction, Bugg further establishes his reputation as a modern-day British rock troubadour.

. isn't just a good album, it's a decisively great one, full stop.

Without reinventing the wheel too much, Newcombe delivers another slice of his breed of highly evolved rock & roll genius with this album, further polishing his ever dangerous songwriting skills and offering a vivid spectrum of production, stylistic distractions, and psychedelic black holes for the listener to get swallowed up by.

With The Digging Remedy, Plaid remain eclectic as ever, keeping their oddness and exploratory nature intact.

Pollard truly delivers the goods with his album, and he's advised to follow this method more often, since it sure seems to work for him.

Even though Old Friends New Friends doesn't contain any obvious epics similar to the most well-known pieces from Frahm's ambitious albums like All Melody and Spaces, there's still an abundance of highlights, and even his smaller-scale works can resonate in a big way.

Still in command of strong technical skills and now rapping over instrumentals crafted with bigger budgets, Cordae falls short when he starts sounding a little too comfortably at home in the mainstream.

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.

Vocalist/guitarist Emma Pollock has crafted one the group's [the Delgados] finest efforts to date, albeit as a solo artist.

On In Between they ditch any SY trappings and go full shoegaze, removing much of the energy and dialing the tempos down to mid. It works really well, allowing the band to create a mood of wistful, well-produced melancholy that builds and builds until the album ends in a swirl of barely expressed emotion and guitar clatter.

Given how good the Felices are at what they do, fans are still likely to enjoy Life in the Dark's rambling take on American roots music, but casual observers might find their minds wandering by the time the album makes it into its final innings.

It's not an altogether bad record and it ends on a bright note with two of its best cuts -- "Bad Advice" and "Deliver It" -- but for all of its amiable intentions, it comes across as short on personality.

Shearwater have crafted their most resolute, or shall we say Shearwatery, effort to date.

Someday Is Today is unfocused in more ways than one, but its mood locks into the late-summer twilight.

Altogether, Ben feels like the first time Macklemore has truly let listeners into his inner world, showcasing his underrated lyrical skills and enough varied production to keep the album moving forward toward a hopeful finish.

Needless to say, the time is right for the phrase "just another" to be banned from use when discussing him.

Ultimately, Angles' best moments are reassuring rather than exciting, offering proof that the Strokes can still make an album together, and hope that it'll come more naturally to them next time.

Despite the occasional flaws, the album shows that Vernon (along with the guys in Collections of Colonies of Bees) has not only the desire to branch out but also the necessary skills.

It is the sound of a band operating from a position of considerable strength: they're confident, assured, even playful, having fun bending the rules and blurring boundaries, eager to please but never pandering.

The Evens' first disc was pointed and protesting, to be sure, but here, on Get Evens, the raw feeling of the record makes the message here more pointed, more specific, and more meaningful.

In other words, it's the best kind of reunion because it's not only lacking in nostalgia, it shows that some things can be better the second time around.

Lady, Give Me Your Key contains expository notes by Thomas as well his in-depth interviews with Beckett and Yester. The sound is far better than acceptable considering the original sources, and the material is a true boon for Buckley's most devoted followers.

With this outing, Harvey establishes himself not only as a fine composer, but as a songwriter.

Join the Dots shows that instead of limiting themselves, TOY have just gotten better overall--arguably the more difficult, and rewarding, path for a band to take.

It may have taken four albums to get there, but Smoke Fairies have assumed control of the ship.

The album might not stand with their all-time best work, like Seamonsters or Watusi, but it's hard to deny the brilliance of a band that, so late in its career, can crank out an album as passionate, hook-filled, and flat-out fiery as this. That's the true surprise of Going, Going....

Though Giraffe is definitely Echoboy's most immediate and cohesive work, it's not perfect: the album takes a misguided turn toward the dark and overwrought on songs like "Lately Lonely" and "Wasted Spaces," both of which recall the harsher moments of Primal Scream's Evil Heat.

The album is held back by their insistence on simple songs and simple vocals that keep the record earthbound and solely the province of the already converted.

One of the best young producers going in electronic music.

Between Here and Gone quietly demands the listener's attention and dives deeply into a labyrinth of emotions before emerging as a validating, affirmative, and instructive experience; it is an album not only to experience, but to hold on to.

Those expecting another album where Keys sounds wise beyond her years will bound to be disappointed by The Diary of Alicia Keys, since her writing reveals her age in a way it never did on the debut.

Face it, if The Donnas Turn 21 sounded as shamelessly sexy as the lyrics and tarted-up images, it'd be a hell of a little rock & roll record. Instead, this inspires feelings of guilt instead of guilty pleasure.

Too much roam and wander for some, but Doom-heads looking for the perfect downer couldn't ask for much more.

Some fans will be irritated that it took Monica three-and-a-half years to follow up a ten-song album with a set of equally brief length, but Still Standing benefits from quality control and a handful of particularly strong ballads.

It may be a little old-fashioned in places and there's the occasional track that doesn't work 100-percent, but the album is another strong showing from a band that could have packed it in years ago and become a nostalgia act, but have instead continued to make fine pop art.

The record charms because its ridiculousness is sincere and his sincerity is ridiculous--two qualities that make him and his art messy and quite genuine.

These are slight, subtle progressions but what impresses is how thoroughly My One and Only Thrill lives up to the promise of her debut, offering another album that is as enchanting in its sound as it is in its substance.

It's recognizably the Charlatans--it's hard to disguise Tim Burgess's laconic drawl or the light psychedelic pull of his melodies--but they're unexpectedly abandoning their dad-rock handbook and taking risks, winding with their freshest, best album since they traded the Happy Mondays for the Rolling Stones.

The Greatest Gift works best as a companion piece to Carrie & Lowell, a variation that offers a different spin on its themes, but it's also a powerful and absorbing work in its own right, and fans of Stevens' work will appreciate it.

While there's nothing wrong with the piecemeal construction of the record, 14 years is a long time to wait for an album that sets blandness and brilliance beside each other in an almost equal ratio. When Defend Yourself hits its stride, however, it's amazing how timeless and unique the classic Sebadoh sound really is.

Blank Dogs is the work of an artist who has found his voice in the sound of another era, and it speaks quite eloquently on Land and Fixed; anyone who enjoys the chilly rush of classic era synth pop will be jazzed by this music, and even those who prefer "real" pop music may find they're not immune to its charms.

Despite the talent on board and the high-concept thinking that went into it, there's a dry, brittle quality to Savoy Motel that saps this material of its strength, and this band has only so many tricks in its pocket to begin with.

Scott & Charlene's Wedding sound grounded--but not gridlocked--on Any Port in a Storm, securing their reputation as one of the most heartfelt acts inspired by the '90s, and one of the few who bring a more contemporary urgency to that sound.

Its varied tones and moods settle into an exciting, vivid bigger picture and represent a clearer collection of Wilson's intelligent lyrical portraits and shifting stylistic muses.

At times, Embrace can get a little too droning and repetitive, but it's a confident and promising debut.

One Second of Love's main issue is not one of sonic fidelity, but consistency. If the murk of earlier recordings hid some of Nite Jewel's intentions, they also succeeded in hiding slightly forced stylistic leanings.

Wolf has often stated that he has no allegiance to styles when it comes to recording, but The Bachelor feels most alive when it's wallowing in its own dusky ruin.

That Metric were able to follow up their best record with another just as good is quite an achievement, hopefully something they will do again and again.

Causers of This sounds like a dance-pop mixtape plunged underwater -- it's all smeary synthesizers, chopped-up dance beats, and washes of reverb.

Instead of changing their sound to accommodate a wider palette of sounds, they wisely chose to incorporate them into their aesthetic. It's an inspired move that will help them keep their old fans and still allow the duo to progress musically.

All well and good, and all very entertaining, but this is an album that's meant to be more: it's intended to be a soundtrack to a way of life, but it winds up playing as a collection of songs.

While it's far from being truly bad, Elevator is a disappointment, and a perplexing one: everything seems to be more or less in the right place, but still doesn't quite fit together.

Sweaty Magic's fearless experimentation is admirable--and though its songs are far from flawless, there are enough keepers here to make it a fun, summery fling.

At times, it almost feels like too much at once, but the band's music is so buoyant that to bring it down to earth too much would be a shame.

At this point, EDD will probably never get the recognition they deserve, but those in the know are sure glad they're still at it.

It feels like Damon & Naomi have always been around to soundtrack the inner lives of melancholy dreamers smart enough to seek them out, and with this album they continue to provide the same impressive and necessary level of solace and inspiration, deeply felt songs, and enchanted performances that they always have.

It's a wall-to-wall party for the freaks, burnouts, outcasts, and misfits and if you don't get it that's your fault, not hers.

This is a sweet-sounding album with subtle depths, not really bluegrass, but a precisely gentle folk album that grows more graceful and revealing with each listen.

It is perfect for lazy summer afternoons, cozy winter nights, or anytime you might want some music that's blissfully peaceful and sweet, but never boring.

Dame Fortune is a culmination album with an artist's evolution pushing things forward with all his strengths in tow. Check Dead Ringer for that debut spark, and look to this one for something more skilled, bigger, but just as free-spirited.

As should be expected from a secondary release, the quality control here is not as tight as it is on Islah, but this is Gates in undiluted form.

Like other Bing & Ruth albums, Species was thoroughly conceived before the musicians began recording it, yet it has such a river-like flow that it can seem as if it spontaneously poured out of Moore and his cohorts.

Much of the magic in Change the Show, as with most of Kane's work, is in the way he turns being a kid of the '90s with an obsession for all things mod into something of his own oeuvre.

This exercise works surprisingly well and, if one is a fan of this genre, F-1 Trillion knocks it out of the park.

Though Heavy Lifting isn't quite up to the level of Kramer's 1990s work, it comes close enough that it would have reaffirmed his status as a veteran guitar hero and proto-punk sage, full of hard-won wisdom, good tunes, and an admirable reserve of piss and vinegar.

It results in a wildly mixed bag where the listener has to actively engage to keep up, and the constant unexpected gear shifting makes for one of the more fun and happily confounding GbV sets of their post-reunion output.

The Black Lips still sound like the rulers of an unwholesome party underworld on Satan's Graffiti or God's Art?, but it's hard not to feel like both hosts and guests are running out of steam.

Right Thoughts Right Words Right Action is a welcome return, fusing a crowd-pleasing sound with some of Franz Ferdinand's most interesting songwriting. Track for track, it may very well be the group's most satisfying album yet.

Fueled by heavy dance tracks and popping electronic beats, The Fame, the first album by the glamorous Lady Gaga, is a well-crafted sampling of feisty anti-pop in high quality.

Do You Wonder About Me? is superior ear candy that won't hurt your intellectual teeth, and a more than worthy follow-up to 2017's fine Swear I'm Good At This.

Talk to La Bomb revisits nearly all the elements that made their 2005 self-titled debut such a thrill, but the songwriting has slipped a bit, welcoming the beloved act to the sophomore slump.

Apart from the inclusion of 'Mrs. Vanderbilt' and 'I'm Down,' there are no surprises, either in song selection or performance, but no surprises doesn't mean no satisfaction, and this is plenty entertaining.

Champ is still a melodic, eclectic record, but it often feels like the work of some other band.

2014's more than servicable Strange Weather EP rounds up five covers, all of which are delivered with the usual impeccable taste and gothic flair that have become Calvi's trademarks since her debut in 2011.

It may not pack the same sonic punch as their early singles, but it has an overall more interesting sound, and the hard-won wisdom and feeling Berman injects into the songs now means that the Pains have transcended their struggles to find a sound, and have truly arrived at last.