Sagara shows the Norwegian to be an equally effective mood painter without his trusty beats, and in some respects, his accomplishment here is his most adept and impressive yet.

What you've got here is basically an excellent soundtrack for reading novels by unhappy authors, or for staring out the window on a drizzly day.

It's a digital landscape where a very human pulsebeat lurks below the surface, and HeCTA's debut is an experiment that works remarkably well on its own terms.

These are veteran players who know how to run a traditional two-guitars, bass, and drums rock combo and the result is a comfortable, well-crafted listen that will likely appeal to fans of their primary outfits.

Bay never seems like he's pandering; he sounds thrilled that he has a chance to make the kind of layered, genre-bending pop that he wants to make, and listeners may well find that freedom alluring.

Performances are generally middling, but a few songs show a glimmer of the band's former jagged glory.

It delivers the goods with its collection of summery jams while keeping nothing, not even the chord progressions, secret.

All of Summertime's charm is tied directly to its mellowness. Perhaps it would have been a more interesting record if it had a hint of adventure.

It's nice to see him in the driver's seat once again, proving he's much more than a chauffeur for someone else's career.

With spot-on production and their most engaging material yet, Grass Widow come into their own on Internal Logic, and have given themselves enough room to grow into something more vivid and lasting than ever before.

Holograms have wholeheartedly embraced '80s post-punk icons like Wire or the Factory Records stable as jumping-off points, but managed to twist the influence into something more interesting than simple homage.

Thanks to Monahan and the strength of the songs the trio wrote for the album, this stands as Au Revoir Simone's best work so far.

Two decades into their careers, as a mature Nada Surf continue to channel their youthful spirit, they've recorded a wise, plaintive album that touches upon the sounds of their past while confidently looking toward the future.

Just as the music on Damage is a sophisticated, fully realized version of the urgent, rambunctious rock Jimmy Eat World played early their career, the lyrics are more sophisticated as well.

Dept. of Disappearance shows that far from vanishing, Lytle is making a claim to be one of the more interesting and consistent singer/songwriters around; willing to take sonic chances, but always delivering music that's as much about feel as it is about meaning.

Hype warranted, the mystery continues, and while no kid should write "666" on their forehead before getting their driver's license, Odd Future remains a vital force in the hip-hop underground.

What impresses the most about Made of Bricks are her deft sketches of deteriorating relationships.

If there are no classics here, there's no duds, either, and given that the Beasties' pop culture aesthetic once seemed to be the territory of young men, it's rather impressive that they're maturing gracefully, turning into expert craftsmen that can deliver a satisfying listen like this.

Coral Fang has its fair share of flaws, but it's impassioned enough to have plenty of bite despite them.

LaValle retains his heavily textural, impressionist flair, but has begun to repeat himself heavily, with none of the freshness or vigor of previous material.

An unexpected and welcome maturation.

Keith is happy to be a dirty old SOB, cracking jokes, drinking beer, and flirting with the ladies, and that makes Shock'n Y'All a fun, rough, rowdy album that wins you over despite your better impulses.

Perhaps 3D doesn't blaze trails like their other albums, but it never plays it safe and it always satisfies, and it's one of the best modern soul albums of 2002.

The slow rumble of Nakamura's production, Hewlett's outstanding graphic model, even Albarn himself all fuse into a convincing gestalt.

Jagged, fractured, splintered, and downright violent-sounding, it's easily the most extreme music the duo has made.

Smalltown Supersound has done fans of the band and of the modern shoegaze sound a huge favor by putting them together and putting them out, extras or no.

The RK has been making weirdly wonderful recordings for over 40 years, but this one, as lovely and angular as it is, is one the of the strangest. Yet, it’s also -- if you stick with it -- among their most enjoyable.

Cowboy's Back in Town reveals that this singer can do one thing well; but he does it really well -- and that's offer tough, utterly masculine, contemporary country-rock -- check the closer "Whoop a Man's Ass" -- convincingly.

This combination of a tight, talented band and a tortured frontman doesn't necessarily make Falling in Reverse a revelatory band, but is does make The Drug in Me Is You a very solid album that will give fans of Radke's a chance to get reacquainted with the notorious post-hardcore bad boy.

For all their technical skill, there's something terribly generic about this band, who don't seem to have a fresh or distinctive move in their entire repertoire as they bounce through their cookie-cutter tunes.

At times, the production carries an adult contemporary air reminiscent of Daylight Again, elsewhere it's as spare as he's ever been, and the two aesthetics blend into a record that's comforting yet not complacent. Nash is no longer looking at the past; he's looking at the future and he's embracing all the changes to come.

On the whole, though dedicated dream pop fans may be disappointed in the adjustment to the band's sound, Episodic's energy and lush melodicism should hook its share of ears with what are, style preferences aside, solid songs.

Pavo Pavo have achieved a collection that eschews the obvious, being undoubtedly hip yet simultaneous geeky in its references, and the resulting work is a real gem.

Parallels is the sound of an artist regaining perspective after a devastating setback, and while he still makes music to drift away to, it's more focused than ever.

While DJ-Kicks doesn't quite have as much personality as those prior releases, particularly Time Spent Away from U, the mix proves that Seinfeld isn't interested in being pegged as a one-trick pony, and that his scope is rapidly expanding.

While Lust for Youth proves that the duo is among the best acts updating synth-pop for the 21st century, it also suggests that it might be time for Norrvide and Fischer to broaden their horizons once more.

The Garden are definitely not for everyone and the Shearses' talent for disguising their actual talent behind pranky hipster exercises can be irritating, but repeated listens reveal more craft than they'd probably like to let on.

Even with the compilation-like format of a new voice on every song and unexpected left turns of style and sound, Thyrsis of Etna quickly becomes a singular world of its own, guided by Miszczyk's spacious production and the environment it creates for his collaborators to take chances with their performances.

If overlong, MOSS is lovely on average and improves over the debut by committing to a design that suits Hawke's vocal qualities.

Kinetic and heartfelt, Beautiful Thing lives up to its name and delivers some of Taylor's finest solo music yet.

New Facts Emerge is still rowdy and absorbing stuff, and proves that Mark E. Smith and his compatriots are growing old in a gloriously ungraceful fashion.

It’s a hell of a good time and it does what a great covers album should: the band never lets their deep, enduring love get in the way of inspiration or imagination.

It's hard to deny the ups and downs to be found here, but combined they paint a picture of Harrison's complexities and contradictions, and the music has never sounded better--and each album has never looked better--than it does here.

As before, Lyle gravitates toward gentle, moody songs, with Tommy Elskes' slyly sarcastic blues, 'Bohemia,' being the liveliest of the bunch, opting to give Natural Forces some humor and tempo through his originals.

Pinewood Smile should be all killer no filler, but late-album offerings like the vapid "Happiness" and the infantile no-fatties ballad "Stampede of Love"--Spinal Tap's "Big Bottom" was ludicrous and infantile, but it wasn't cruel--suck some air out of the room, making the whole thing feel a little stale, which is the last thing you want from a project that so fetishizes another era.

Broadening the sonic palette helps sharpen the songs, and the result is a sophomore set that's ambitious and satisfying.

It resonates with emotion, tenderness, and a sense that she has found comfort in life and her songwriting that may have been missing before.

They have enough clatter and commotion to keep Mission Control moving at a brisk pace, but they could use some extra oomph.

Camu Tao's thoughts and structures are more fully fleshed out, more songs than just ideas and sketches, and here, what he was and what he could do, and could have done, seem so much more fully whole.

A genuinely moving -- and beautifully performed -- record from start to finish.

Despite these interesting diversions, Exits & All the Rest is just a bit too straightforward to gain the plaudits of the more experimental Warpaint, but it's still a vibrant record that cleverly recaptures the spirit of their influences while remaining quintessentially Girl in a Coma.

I Will Set You Free is the sound of Adamson's liberation as a songwriter, producer, and arranger.

Though there are a couple of missteps here, Another Country is a welcome new phase for Wilson.

Ultimately, Bounty was made to create mystique and interest, and it still does that even after Iamamiwhoami's secret wasn't one anymore.

Rhubarb Rhubarb, sounds like a condensed version of their first.

Whether or not Hyperview resonates with Title Fight's existing fan base, it was the right album for them to make.

Though it feels disjointed at times, at its best Kin captures the emotional impact of changes and their aftermath.

Confessions turns out to be as charming as it sounds on paper; at times it's even profound.

The Selecter may still be best remembered for their part in the U.K. ska explosion of the early '80s, but Daylight shows they don't have to rest on past glories; they're creating a new body of work that's smart, energetic, and powerful.

John Mellencamp embodies the stubborn independence of an artist who unquestioningly follows his heart and his muse, and Strictly a One-Eyed Jack is the work of a man accepting the passage of time rather than fighting against it. As a songwriter and a performer, it's a gambit that works in his favor.

While some listeners are bound to mourn the loss of Mattiel's most retro-minded garage qualities, these latter songs attain a stylistic sweet spot between their most accessible and rebellious material, while still -- refreshingly -- completely defying contemporary pop.

Quite frankly, this is the record that NIN should have released if Reznor had wanted to capitalize on the success of The Downward Spiral.

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.

Circular Sounds is altogether smoother than the musician's previous work, but it's far from slick, packed with enough grit (note the slightly off-key horns in 'Everything Begins') and solid songcraft to set itself apart from the retro-rock catalog.

Like a garish version of his label boss Akon, he's a singer/songwriter/producer who doesn't evolve much over this avalanche of releases and guest shots, but Thr33 Ringz proves he's much more aware of his limitations.

Blood of Man sounds like that album's [2004's "Use Your Voice"] companion piece, merging the same traces of folk, roots rock, and small-town storytelling with a simple increase in volume.

While this is a loving tribute to Frank Navetta (who died in 2008), if you were hoping for more of the subtle but genuine forward growth the band has shown on later-day albums like Cool to Be You and Hypercaffium Spazzinate, what you get instead is a journey into the past, with all the good and bad that phrase implies.

Ganser's lyrics stick close to themes of dread, tension, and uneasiness, and every song finds a slightly different musical avenue to get to the heart of those heavy feelings. In this way, Just Look at That Sky manages to be engaging without losing cohesion, anchoring its various chaotic instrumental approaches to a dismal emotional core.

Teenager can stand as the group's crowning glory to date.

While it's never clear how much Snoop actually wrote, the ghostwriters he's admitted to hiring have the thug script down and rarely disappoint. What is disappointing is the woefully long track list, the redundant numbers, and the trimming required to keep from drifting off before the majestic closer, 'Can't Say Goodbye' with the Gap Band's Charlie Wilson, rolls around.

Dig beneath the surface, the lyrics make plain Healy's claim of the album being a personal record but the trick that Travis pulls off with L.A. Times is that it is engaging on the surface thanks to colorful melodies and shifting arrangements--the very things that beg for subsequent listens, the ones where themes reveal themselves.

Their songwriting and vocals are actually better than Air, closer to Scissor Sisters again in their ability to write great pop songs and deliver them with flair.

If many of Pollard's post-GBV albums have suggested a man tossing out whatever tunes he came up with this week, Let It Beard is an ambitious, clearly focused attempt to create something out of the ordinary, and it succeeds well enough to feel like a game changer for Pollard and his partners.

It's hard to call an album this spirited and alive irrelevant.

It's a set designed for the kind of diehard who would purchase a box set housed in a working amplifier, but its pleasures aren't limited to the dedicated, particularly when it comes to early AC/DC.

Lollipop might have been an inspiring return to form; as it is, it's flawed but interesting enough to confirm there's still life left in this band, which (with any luck) the Meat Puppets will document in a more satisfying manner next time they record.

While the snap into tightly focused and sometimes more fiery songwriting is remarkable, the songs aren't as across-the-board strong as they'd need to be to make the entire album as remarkable as the shift it represents.

From a musical standpoint, Damn Right, Rebel Proud is every bit as solid as "Straight to Hell;"...But lyrically, too much of the time all Hank has to tell us is he's messed up and ready to rearrange some faces.

Though Funk's main gig with the Decemberists might seem to be about as far from Red Fang as you're likely to get, the producer's penchant for intricacy helps to lend the album a certain depth, channeling the band's inclination toward brute force into something altogether more expansive while still keeping the grittiness of their sound intact.

On Can't Touch Us Now, the smarts and the songwriting are closer to the forefront, and it's a fine showcase of what they still do well.

Collectively, the songs play like movements of a single work, making for a consistent set of low-light, David Lynch-ian ambience.

Even at their most dystopian, Orbital never lose their excitement for exploring new sounds, and Optical Delusion doesn't get bogged down in cynicism or nostalgia.

Vicious Creature is a wilder ride than might be expected -- at times, it feels like these songs have been pent up inside Mayberry for years -- but it's great to hear her own her music so fully.

The album retains Dear's personality while dutifully serving its function.

I'm Glad Trouble Don't Last Always isn't Luke Winslow-King's happiest album by a long shot, but it feels like his best so far, and finds him expanding his musical horizons without losing any ground along the way. This is a top-shelf exercise in soulful blues with plenty to say to the lovelorn and the satisfied alike.

Far from ordinary, Pure, Beyond Reproach is a trippy, dreamlike album that finds Egyptrixx further abandoning dance music conventions, resulting in some of his most fascinating work yet.

Like Rae Sremmurd and Migos, these big-bass trap anthems owe much to their club-friendly vibe, but offer little in terms of substance or lasting impact.

The record has a few interesting outlier songs, like the R&B-leaning Summer Walker duet "Difference Is" or the questionable country-trap experiment "Broadway Girls" with raspy hooks and twangy ad-libs by Morgan Wallen. For the most part, however, Lil Durk commands the flow of 7220 with emotionally complex lyrics that feel confessional and raw on more melancholic tracks like the Gunna-featuring "What Happened to Virgil" and out for blood on charged, confrontational moments like "AHHH HA."

A hallmark for the band, a culmination of their previous work, and -- upon its release -- their best album to date.

Everything comes together perfectly on Lady, from beginning to end it's a dream come true for lovers of classic soul; if it had been released in 1970, it would considered a timeless classic, talked about in the kind of reverent tones reserved for Lady Soul or What's Going On.

The streamlining does much for the album, giving the songs enough space to let their varied and often contrasting influences meld nicely with the band's unique visions.

The rest of Under the Blacklight feels like the Jenny Lewis show and even if this album doesn't push Rilo Kiley to the top, it's hard to deny that it feels like the launching pad for her ascent into true stardom.

Listeners willing to devote an hour--rather than a rushed five-minute scan of the first 30 seconds of each cut--to this unassuming little gem will likely want to revisit it again and again.

A clutch of unapologetically hedonistic singles in 2017 kept the Bomptown rapper visible and also pointed toward the approach taken with his third proper album.

Taking their sound in a new, unforeseen bluesy direction accomplishes the near impossible by making Marilyn Manson sound even more sinister than before.

What seems less successful are the English language efforts.

Bucks expectations and actually makes good on the indie rock promise of the band's full-length debut, 1998's overhyped albeit underwhelming I Become Small and Go.

Her confidence blossomed this time around and vocally, she's never sounded so good.