Perhaps the individual songs seem ephemeral when isolated on their own, but that's because Room 29 is constructed as a tone poem, a collection of songs, poetry, and incidental music that's designed to be a hyper-reality--an intersection of the glamorous past of Hollywood and our arch modern sensibility, and it succeeds gloriously at that.

The Order of Nature is a good showcase for the individual talents of Jim James and Teddy Abrams, but somehow the two halves don't always make an ideal fit, though all parties concerned certainly deserve a tip of the hat for ambition and audacity.

The Gaia II Space Corps may not be the fulfillment of Motorpsycho's dream, but for listeners it's a resplendent exercise in pure rock & roll pleasure.

Chemical Brothers have remained in the stadium house category for a decade-plus due to their immersive music and vivid light shows, but from the stale beats and lack of new ideas on display here, they'd do better going beatless or hiring a drummer.

Captures different shades and moods of the band's thus-far five-year career quite nicely.

Whatever the reason, Seen It All: The Autobiography shakes off all the challenges of Jeezy's lesser releases and finds new inspiration from the same old rap sheet.

An appealingly misshapen collection of classics, contemporaries, and originals.

It feels like half of an album by a band making sure their songs that fit the mold of what they've done before, and half of an album by a band using their major-label leverage to push their boundaries.

Khaos Legions shouldn't be dismissed as the result of creative burnout--there's plenty of scorching metal here, and fans will be very pleased.

A winning, if a little overly earnest, collection of millennial retro-pop that feels like a well-intentioned, if slightly awkward, high five.

Fourth Corner establishes Whitley as a sophisticated, mature songwriter and a passionate vocalist only beginning to realize her powers.

As it stands, this is a strangely seductive record, filled with remarkable musical peaks, and proof positive that an ambitious sophomore departure can be wholly satisfying.

[The Birds of Satan] deliver a batch of songs combining the muscular intellectualism of Queens of the Stone Age with the melodic passion of Foo Fighters.

A Flourish and a Spoil is far from a sophomore slump; instead, it's a portrait of the Districts as they evolve from their freewheeling beginning.

Even if this isn't their easiest or most satisfying listening, they're still a remarkably unique band.

Merry and his crew deliver a layered set that ranges from the mellow dream-like "Rentes Écloses" to the unexpected fuzzed-out banger "Bête Morcelée."

The energy throughout the album is so steady and positive that, even at a low volume, it can have a pacifying effect on the soul.

This slyly crafted collection of big bass and even bigger brags manages to bridge the old school and the new, with Uncle Snoop's encouragement as the host with the most.

It does signal a turn toward a more thoughtful, artistically ambitious sound than before, not just maintaining the Scottish neo-prog quartet's penchant for forward movement but catapulting them out of minor-league status.

Starfire certainly isn't as game-changing as LPs like Agharta and Pangaea, the mood and spirit is that of Miles in the '70s, but with the mechanically precise rhythms one would expect from a group born in the era of acid jazz.

Overall, Jem's songcraft is only ambitious in relation to a genre often defined by a "blander is better" pleasure principle.

It may sound at first like the makings of a mediocre goth album, but the band's combination of a taut, tense, elegant delivery and poetic lyrics breathes life into each of Red of Tooth and Claw's songs.

Bittersweet and incredibly catchy, Endless Now is the kind of album that just gets better with repeated listening.

Walk Between Worlds offers further proof that Simple Minds can flaunt what they are because they finally understand just who they are.

Stylistically in line with The Baby, Scout serves as an understated addendum that packs a sentimental punch.

This is a beautifully crafted, stripped-down recording, showcasing once more that E uses searing honesty and a canny sense of pop, rock, blues, and everything else to chronicle his own strange path through life and its labyrinth.

If the album doesn't offer any startling surprises along the lines of the furious "Black Sweat"--there's not much abandon here--there's joy in hearing Prince embrace his lyrical eccentricities as he accessorizes his smooth jams and coiled, clean funk with such oddities as laser blasts and spoken introductions from what appear to be British nurses.

Burying emotional depth and even sensitivity beneath healthily sarcastic sounds, alienated lyrics, and cheeky titles like "Comfortably Dumb," Terry Malts have made an unassumingly sophisticated album.

The quirky and antiquey title track is nothing but a cute lark and comes off as a bit trite in such purposeful surroundings. Think of it as a slight misstep or comedic interlude, but otherwise, this is engaging sweet techno with a smile, carefully crafted and yet seemingly carefree.

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.

Anyone who liked "Life in Cartoon Motion's" bright, brash approach won't be disappointed by The Boy Who Knew Too Much--it's clear Mika knows exactly what he's doing.

Listening to the beautiful, restful and balanced sounds of Green Lanes, one hopes that they do indeed continue to work together for years and years.

Story of My Life is polished, but it's far from slick; it's honest, wears its heart on its sleeve and is full of imagination, grace, and spit.

As elegant as they are, the melodies don't easily lodge in the subconscious, but the bigger problem is that the production -- by Lynne, who plays virtually every note on the record -- is airless and precise. This dryness is a remnant of the digital age, where every element in a recording is exactly in the right place, and if it's not quite a drawback, it does mean From out of Nowhere can be a bit of an uncanny valley: it's close enough to a genuine item to satisfy, yet different enough to disarm.

Enigk sounds like a mixture of Peter Gabriel, U2, Sarah McLachlan, and a little bit of Elf Power, and tries too hard to be profound and meaningful.

A little more passion in the vocals and songs that are actually about something would have made The Happiness Waltz a triumphant return, instead it feels like backtracking.

Like label mates Aphex and Autechre, this all amounts to something of a tough listen, though it is tracks like "Sixnot6" and "Distracted2" which really reward the listener willing to wade through the bleak atmospherics.

More than once everything connects perfectly.

Anna is nothing revolutionary, of course, and that dog. fans have certainly heard this before. But that same audience will most likely want to hear it again, as will anyone who believes female rockers don't need to choose between being a folky riot grrrl (Ani DiFranco, Dar Williams) or a mainstream maven (Meredith Brooks, Sheryl Crow).

Peachtree Road proves that he's back to making good, solid records focused on songs, not hits, the way he did at the outset of his career.

All the Gang Starr trademarks are in place, from Premier's perfect upchoruses to Guru's reedy voice cutting or instructing, and sounding better than ever.

Another 12 tracks of curiously beautiful but quite intense melancholy.

This sophomore effort finds Brand New maturing, reaching for textures and song structures instead of clichés.

Maybe by the time the next album rolls along it might be time to stretch a bit and get away from the sound they've cobbled together, but for now I Was a King sounds just about right to anyone who is a fan of the history of noisy guitar pop of the last 20 years.

Whether it works or not depends on whether you're in the love him or the hate him camp, but no compromise is just what his fans signed up for in the first place. The Darkside, Vol. 1 is a mean beast of an album that will surely make Joe's army re-enlist for Vol. 2.

Not Music is all over the place in the best possible way, and fans who love Stereolab's gracefully intellectual side will especially appreciate it.

It's had to imagine how long Ha Ha Tonka can continue to grow on each album, considering how good they've become, but if you're looking for music that's smart, ambitious, literate, and fun at the same time, Death of a Decade could well be your introduction to your new favorite band.

This album perhaps best shows the duo able to capture the sense of drone as exaltation, something derived from the choice of instruments used, whether old keyboards, guitars, effects pedals, or further combinations and extrapolations as desired.

Above all, Mungodelics practically bubbles with undisguised joy in the moment, a pleasure in activity, and the possibilities they explore.

Wasner and Ehrens have made an album that honors their devotion to R&B and dance music in the best way possible, with love, respect, and a bunch of memorable jams.

Sure, no one is going to mistake this for an Einsturzende Neubaten or Jesus Lizard album (and most definitely not a Silver Jews disc), but the links to those acts can still be felt in the music here, making this self-titled debut an impressive collaboration between a trio of rather impressive collaborators.

Longtime listeners will know the drill, but newbies looking for some frame of reference might want to imagine Sigur Rós, Mew, and Sunny Day Real Estate in an art school lunchroom brawl.

The small army of musicians continue to merrily pursue their muse, unconcerned with the human logic of time and space.

It's easy to guess that most of the guys paid tribute to here wouldn't know what to make of the tracks, but if anything here leads the average garage rock-loving Dirtbombs fan back to the sounds of Detroit techno, the album will have done its job.

Trendy South African rhythms and austere strings spin a web around Davidson's poetic lyrics, and in this intricate, introspective setting, their talent becomes very clear.

The connection between the album's title and its contents remains a question mark, but it's befitting of this surprising, deeply inspired debut.

An uneven sophomore album.

Fear and Saturday Night is a smaller-scale album than 2012's Tomorrowland and it's lighter, too, finding the Americana singer/songwriter settling into a comfortable ragged groove.

At the end of the day, The Melvins know what they're all about, but with Everybody Loves Sausages, listeners get the chance to roam around in their heads, if only for 50 minutes or so.

If you want to hear a singer's singer, one who can move you to the core of your being with her way of interpreting a song, Wynonna Judd's deeply moving, authentic Sing: Chapter 1 is a fine place to begin. This may be her finest hour.

The new wave funk of "Ungrateful" and the Franz Ferdinand-esque "It's Obvious" shows the bandmembers aren't averse to the odd indie disco anthem, but the album is much more convincing when it embraces the spiky romanticism of the group's obvious influences.

Young's unconventional lyrical inclinations mesh nicely with the warm, organic, mostly acoustic feel of the arrangements, creating a craftily produced but endearingly off-kilter sound with echoes of bands like the Fruit Bats and Lost in the Trees.

It's the more familiar works which ensure that Basement Jaxx vs. Metropole Orkest is an uplifting, feel-good record which manages to straddle the unlikely worlds of classical and progressive house with ease.

This is a keeper if you've already bought into the guitarist's more-is-more approach that has served him well thus far, and he shows no signs of abandoning it now.

COF achieve a victory here. It rocks.

A strongly inventive debut.

There's an open-minded exploratory edge to everything here, as if Black Prairie were delighted to discover that genres are really just in the mind of the beholder.

If you're a fan, you need to grab this one.

An exploratory work, Glitterbust nevertheless has an appealing serenity that makes it unique within Gordon's discography.

At 17 songs, it's inevitable that not every track will appeal to every listener.

With the sheer amount of voices that casually pop up on its 17 tracks--the cohesive vibe and swaggering passion make it a fun listen for fans of any of the two-dozen artists showing off their skills.

Ultimately, No Mercy in This Land is solid if not (quite) as strong as Get Up! That said, it is more diverse, immediate, and instinctive, making it a worthy listen, and provides further evidence that this pair should work together more often.

Unlike latter-day ZZ Top records, which are occasionally weighed down by the band's considerable legacy, Big Bad Blues feels light and free, an album that was made because Gibbons wanted to have some fun and that feeling is not only palpable, it's infectious.

It's music that's lush yet spare, tuneful but not forceful, cinematic yet small scale. Those ambiguous contradictions give the album emotional undercurrents both sweet and sad, an appealing blend that sets it apart from most other albums in 2019, along with most of Yorn's catalog.

Similarly to how grungy Gen-Xers both co-opted and rejected the music and aesthetics of their boomer parents, on Emerald Classics Swim Deep conversely embrace and slough off the remaining dust of '90s Brit-pop nostalgia. They may have been inspired by the music that was at its peak around the time they were born, but they aren't going to drown in its wake.

No matter what direction his music takes on Sleep on the Wing, it's quintessentially Bibio, and spending more time with it is a joy.

Feel Feelings is a richly satisfying album. Soko demands the same commitment from her listeners that she put into making these songs, but as she combines happiness and sadness into something beautiful, the honesty in her music is mesmerizing.

Michaels gives you the sense that she's writing from experience and transforming her emotions into cathartic pop anthems. It doesn't hurt that she also has a warm, expressive voice, marked by a dusting of vocal fry that can make her sound vulnerable and sweet one minute and wickedly intimidating the next.

Like all of Dwyer's improv collaborations, Gong Splat has the anything-goes feel one would expect from an impromptu jam session, but there's something in this one's combination of cosmic glide and shocked-out panic that elevates it beyond the previous releases.

The Resurrection of Rust doesn't suggest the world lost a potential classic when Rusty failed to make a record in 1972, but as a glorious recollection of a youth well misspent, it's hard not to love if you care about Costello at all.

Too many of these melodies are similar enough that they're indistinguishable from one another. On balance, jams such as "Outer Heaven," "Impermanence," and "Vendetta X" solidly reveal that this band still has plenty of creative dazzle left in the tank.

The sleekness calls to mind the Strokes, as does the guitar interplay. It's definitely an avenue the band might want to explore more if they get tired of unhinged rock & roll. Not that they needed to change; they could keep putting out records like this -- filled with energy and a tiny bit of polish -- and it would be a long time until the Murlocs got stale.

His second full-length studio album, it's a more optimistic and energized experience than the first, cranking up the accessible pop sheen on his utterly soulful, powerhouse anthems.

It's not that there aren't any engaging moments here--'Restless' is nicely minor and introspective, and the simplicity of 'Oh Honey' actually works quite well--but there are too many misses in between, enough to mar the good parts of Langhorne Slim, making for a sadly unfulfilling release.

Fortunately, even the album's least obvious moments are well worth deciphering, and the emotional connection Sholi make on almost every track raises the band from merely impressive to very promising.

While the album does delve into unusually -- for Wainwright -- rustic traditional fare, selections keep listeners on their toes by not only broadly defining folk, but with a slew of diverse guest singers and arrangements that, at least occasionally, stray into lush orchestral territory.

Sometimes, as is the case on the lovely yet slight "Bright and Still," the simplistic lyrics transcend naiveté and venture dangerously close to obtuse, but for the most part, Arnalds shows a pretty decent command of the language.

Warm Blanket is a tiny masterpiece of unassuming modern pop that you'll overlook at your own risk.

Heavy on atmosphere and hooks alike, Pleasure comes one bounding step closer in the eternal quest to marry refined song craft and ungovernable noise.

These are organic and rich-sounding tracks that frame Rumer's voice in sparkling piano, cinematic bits of strings, rounded horn parts, the twang of the occasional pedal steel guitar, and even a poignant harmonica line.

Repentless is a retro, workmanlike effort from a band determined to soldier on, and that's fine.

Strangers to Ourselves is an album where the trees matter more than the forest: song for song, it demonstrates the exacting nature of Brock but put it all together, it sprawls.

Though not all of the band's experiments necessarily pay off, the album feels like a worthy proving ground for the ideas that will take the band boldly into the future.

This is solid restart. JoJo displays more than a decade's worth of growth here as a writer and singer.

Lynch and Badalamenti aficionados will no doubt revel in its many strange charms, but perhaps above all, they'll appreciate the sound of two old friends having a great deal of mischievous fun.

With each track designed as a showcase for the featured guest, Mean Old Man winds up playing a little like a collection of moments but it's hard to complain when the moments prove that you can still be vigorous and vital at the age of 74.

At times, it's hard to hear much unique about them. Then again, the boldness of Red Yellow & Blue--both the colors and the album--can't be denied, and Born Ruffians' energy does spark something special occasionally.

Swallow this album whole, letting the peaks and valleys of its cinematic reach melt into one another as it moves forward toward its soft sprung conclusion.