Ultimately, it feels as much like an exercise in self-justification as it does in personal revelation.

Snow Patrol's hungry rock sound only gets bigger and better this time around.

Snowflake Midnight works as a soothing, gently inspiring song cycle, the likes of which Mercury Rev hasn't made since "See You on the Other Side."

The contrast between Khaled's all-positive demeanor and his facilitation of buccaneering misogyny is stark as ever here, most evident in tracks like "Work It" and "Pick These Hoes Apart."

Spinning through 29 tracks in just under 50 minutes, Scott Herren's sixth proper LP as Prefuse 73 offers more of the same musical madness for fans of his no-attention-span cut-ups--and that's a good thing.

Enigk's undeniably rich and powerful voice has never sounded better, and his enigmatic lyrics remain resplendent with biblical imagery and magnetic poetry-engineered spiritual vagaries, but in removing the complex arrangements that have haunted nearly every one of his post-Sunny Day projects, he's exposed his weakest batch of songs to date.

The performances are hit-or-miss--and many of them are trumped by Folds' own pair of songs--but the originality remains fairly consistent, yielding an album that should delight a cappella enthusiasts and, at the very least, interest the average Folds fan.

The bottom line here is that Keep on Loving You may jar some longtime Reba fans on first listen, but despite the record's sound it's all her in this mix, and they will more than likely celebrate this.

Albums like this pretty much ask you right away to either turn it up or throw it out, and there's no denying the polarizing nature of D.I.Y. indie rock, but Jookabox is consistently visceral, darkly funny, and wholly unpredictable enough to warrant more than a cursory spin around the neighborhood.

Not only are the songs so perfectly patched that it's hard to tell they were ever fractured, but in the age of Pro-Tools editing, they seem like relatively standard pop songs.

H.I.M. isn't a band known for profound lyrics, but, at the same time, most fans of the band don't want to philosophize, they want to hear the group rock out, and this release shows them doing precisely that, even harder than before.

The rather aimless and derivative '90s drum'n'bass homage "Hocus Pocus" aside, No More Idols is a consistently impressive and intriguing listen that has the potential to be the drum'n'bass genre's defining studio album.

They may have done some drastic reshuffling and tried some new things on Move Through the Dawn, but it's a Coral record at its core and it's one of their most satisfying, too.

There are experiments with ambience, risky beat switches, theatrical and hook-free pop, and orchestration that Scott has never attempted before. The multi-platinum guest features might set the album up for global conquest, but the most exciting moments come when it sounds like Scott is discovering a new way to push his craft forward.

Ultimately, Outside's exercises in nostalgia are pretty, smooth, and inoffensive, but not nearly as interesting as CFCF's debut album or the EPs that followed it.

He fares better on "Silver and Gold" and "Humour Me," where more energy and sensuality keep things afloat, proving once again that soul-searching and dancing don't have to be at cross purposes.

While it's nice to have another Mary Chain record, what makes the record even better is the presence of Linda Reid.

This is a solid, consistent date all the way through that is evidence of McBride's long chart success.

A listen to Melt clearly conveys their wider world-view and is as ambitious as it is engaging (and a real treat to hear on headphones, to boot).

Ultimately The Promise doesn't point toward the future, but it does deliver fulfillment abundantly, from the place things really are, showcasing a confident, relevant, singer and songwriter.

For the majority of the other songs Lee Spielman runs the show, screeching street-sick lyrics about the crime-ridden area surrounding their Sacramento practice space.

There is a widening sense of exploration at work here; the considerable benefit of that aesthetic is clear even when it falls a tad short of the mark.

Gibbard has a gentle touch so having cushy, sugary melodies mirrored by a production equally as supple feels like a marriage of intent and sound.

Lifetime of Love is more about aesthetics and movement than message or structure, but it's got a little of all of those things keeping it anchored in the familiar.

Living on the Other Side is uncalculated and unassuming its delivery, evoking an earlier era without dressing the band in Glenn Frey's castoff threads from the Desperado cover shoot. It's also incredibly tuneful, which makes the Donkeys' second effort an enjoyable summer album.

With 15 songs clocking in at just shy of an hour, Cosmic Wind lingers, but stops short of overstaying its welcome. Instead the album sprawls out in a relaxed bliss, Lion Babe moving confidently through their wide spectrum of laid-back moods and smiling sounds.

Not many bands can recover from a disastrous album and come back better than ever. Thanks to some hard work and good choices, you can add Vivian Girls to that short list.

If their future recordings follow the template they built here, bis may just be on their way to truly becoming the great band they always seemed right on the verge of becoming.

Not for background listening, the album rewards repeat plays and gets the new project off to an impressively cathartic start.

Supergrass come crashing back to life with Diamond Hoo Ha, an album every bit as cheerfully gaudy and vulgar as its title.

This is too short and scattered to put on his top shelf, but it comes awfully close, which is downright astonishing considering the circumstances.

Even if Amnesty lacks some of the intensity of Crystal Castles' earlier work, it accomplishes the tricky task of providing common ground and a fresh start.

The sound quality is ultra-clean, it makes the listening experience relatively risk-free and also brings attention to the fact that there's not a lot of ground being broken here.

Monochromatic can also be read as reliable, giving the people what they want and with Chesney, that's an easy, relaxed good time…it's just, now that he's in his 40s, he makes records designed for a quiet weekend afternoon at home instead of a Friday night kegger.

Dunes is a perfect match of band, songs, and producer that works almost perfectly and should mean that the days of Gardens & Villa being compared to their peers are over.

Consider Dirty Work the band's ultimate bid for mainstream acceptance, and one of their strongest pop albums to date.

Nothing to Do is admittedly pretty one note in sound and subject matter, but the boys deliver it with so much enthusiasm and so many hooks, it's hard to care.

"Phoebe" is a modified bluegrass stomp and "Sunshine" comes streaming in on breezy harmonies, while "Rock All Night" and "Watch Your Step" are anchored in roots rock, but Amelita is, at its heart, an adult pop album and it's a gorgeous one at that: it glides by easily but it digs deep.

If In Another World doesn't quite feel like a classic Cheap Trick, blame that on the group's dogged adherence to their old blueprint; they follow it so closely that they don't allow room for adventure, mistake, or fashion. Maybe that means the album doesn't quite seem fresh, but it does hit its marks in a reliable, satisfying manner.

Hot Cakes is definitely worthy of throwing more than a few devil horns the band's way.

Although it peters out in its last 10 minutes, Lucky 7 is a workmanlike and thrilling if unadventurous addition to Heat's fiery catalog, and provides him with more fuel for his explosive gigs.

Whenever Everlast lays back and spins stories and tall tales on his own, his blend of folk, rock, blues, rap, and pop culture clicks.

The Datsuns re-create the sound of a beer- and weed-fueled Saturday night in 1973, borrowing and blending the revving guitar riffs and choked, macho vocals of Thin Lizzy, Bad Company, .38 Special, and on occasion, the hornier side of Led Zeppelin.

A decent but not spectacular album that, not for the first time, finds DiFranco on her way to somewhere else.

This is a worthy return, qualitatively standing head and shoulders above most everything else in its class.

So while Walls generally finds An Horse treading water, enjoyably enough for the most part, it also suggests that they've arrived at a slight impasse as to how to proceed from here; how to balance artistic development and expansion with the youthful urgency and directness that has marked their best moments, at least so far.

In a way, this is overkill indeed--over 100 minutes of remixes for a 40-minute album. However, it's also fascinating to hear how this current crop of producers--spanning abstract hip-hop, house, dubstep, bass music, and experimental techno, all selected by Thom Yorke--twists, bends, adjusts, and appropriates the source material.

Those who continue to stick with the band will find themselves rewarded with another fine addition to an impressive catalog and an example of grown-up psych pop that's both calming and soul-searching, while never being anything less than completely enjoyable.

There's a delicateness to Golden Pollen, in the double- and triple-tracked vocals, the soft instrumentation.

The bulk of Back and Fourth is more insular, though, serving as Pete Yorn's personal therapy rather than his audience's ear candy.

On This Is Us, the group sounds great for their age, and they sound like they're at their peak.

Keys never gets gritty, she remains reserved, never letting her singing or arrangements obscure the melodies or the classy veneer of the entire proceedings. All this determined detachment keeps The Element of Freedom from packing a primal, passionate punch, but there is charm in Alicia's enveloping, quiet cool.

The band are an almost classic example of one element working incredibly well and another almost tripping it up as it goes. What works is the group's collective ear for those previously mentioned sounds and styles, which the trio plays excellently throughout.

With its restrained arrangements and spacious production, The Devil You Know allows Jones' enigmatic voice the room it needs to rise and deliver these songs, not from rock & roll history, but from her heart, marrow, and bones.

Stringfellow's fourth solo outing is as riveting as it is willfully schizophrenic, incorporating elements of progressive art rock, country, soul, R&B, and straight-up Posies-inspired jangle pop without a care in the world, resulting in his most daring studio offering to date.

The way he mixes sounds, styles, and moods on the album is, like it was on To the Sea, a nice step in the right direction; the songs are typically strong; and the whole thing goes down as easily as ice-cold soda pop on a hot summer day.

With Gameshow, Two Door Cinema Club ultimately balance a growing pop maturity with a stylish strut worthy of Saturday Night Fever's Tony Manero.

Ultimately, the outcome is similar to Drift: while the band's anything-goes spirit is admirable and their passion is unmistakable, they simply sound much better when they're rocking out, and the other songs are just not as interesting.

It's nice to have the Posies back in the studio again, but Every Kind of Light isn't the triumphant return fans might have hoped for.

With such a terrific combination of depth, melody, and out-and-out charm, It's a Corporate World is the perfect summer jam for anyone who spends more time wearing headphones than swim trunks.

While these eclectic songs are intentionally less cohesive than either of the duo's albums, Nun's progression from Tracer and 7AM is equally logical and exciting.

Friday Night is a stronger and more engaging work than Butler's solo debut, and the new songs suggest he should have something memorable next time he goes into the studio by himself.

An impressive debut from a very promising songwriter, hopefully with more to come.

Of limited appeal, but appealing nonetheless.

Despite having many strong songs and a more focused approach, the Duke Spirit's third album is also their most uneven.

Bones is inventive, unsettling, imposing, and utterly arresting.

Despite the obvious--and deliberate--reference points, most of Howl is a solid chapter in the evolution of a fascinating band.

The unpretentious intelligence and skillful wordplay of Weaver's lyrics go a long way towards making The Ax in the Oak a richly satisfying work for grownup listeners, and the imaginative surroundings Weaver, Deck, and a handful of sympathetic musicians have crafted for these songs only make them stronger and more affecting.

Shogun is easily Trivium's most challenging and ambitious album yet, and even though it isn't likely to spawn any hit singles, it was clearly the album Trivium had to make in order to get unduly prejudiced metalheads off their backs and finally silence undue suspicions over their abundant talent and devotion to heavy metal.

The Postelles (who produced the remaining tracks themselves) spend most of their time re-creating Is This It? with scrubbed-up, squeaky-clean results. Ultimately, that's where the album fails.

Instead of sounding labored and forced, System Preferences is gentle and effortless, as if it were recorded four months after Hymn and Her, instead of four years.

Texturally, there's not much of a surprise but The Dream Walker does have its own distinct momentum.

Simply viewed as a contemporary ska album, Subculture is fine stuff with some inspired moments and consistently engaging performances, and if your tastes run to the old school in both ska and reggae, this should be just what your sound system has been missing lately.

Health&Beauty sound like a group well into a long career here, an auspicious trait for what is essentially a debut.

While Imposter doesn't get the blood pumping as much as 2015's Angels & Ghosts, fans in need of a soundtrack for brooding will find this to be an ideal outlet.

Acknowledging that Night Beds' strict chamber-folk fans are bound to be disappointed if not horrified, taken on its own Ivywild is sonically rich, adventurous, envelopingly wistful, and undeniably stunning.

The Blake Babies are back, melodic hooks and great songs in tow.

While Nakamura is quite possibly one of the most accomplished beat processors in the realm of art hip-hop/electronica, his strict-composer approach on this project is occasionally inaccessible and at times unlistenable.

Mount Sims manages to kick down some boundaries and offer a throbbing, sensual slab of neo-electro that isn't afraid to offer some self-aware laughs.

It was brave of Memoryhouse to drastically change their approach on their first full-length, but while The Slideshow Effect has plenty of appealing moments, they don't add up to a satisfying album.

Sugar does little to contradict the argument that the Sunshine Factory are nothing more than a My Bloody Valentine tribute act, but it's an act they undeniably do very well.

With the same soft rock moods of America, the Eagles, Crosby, Stills & Nash, or American Beauty-era Grateful Dead, the decreased volume leaves the songs every bit as moody and ominous as their more electric studio versions, but far clearer.

Japanther sound more in touch than ever with the spirit of youth, excitement, and discovery that started the band 13 years before the release of this album.

People looking for a bit more substance from a band that once made concept albums and instituted its own Belief System might wonder what the heck is going on, but anyone who loves pop music that moves feet, brings smiles, and snaps like bubblegum, and who is also deathly tired of the mainstream, will think I Thought the Future Would Be Cooler is just about the coolest thing around.

Occasionally, right on!'s stripped-down sonics are too restrained for their own good--"white devil" doesn't have the fuel it needs to truly ignite--but more often than not, the album offers a welcome glimpse of Lindberg on her own.

Ultimately, too much of Forever Hasn't Happened Yet is made up of songs that don't quite hit their target, either musically or emotionally; it's full of fine moments, but doesn't cohere into a solid whole.

Surfing definitely won't end up on many end-of-year lists, but it's easygoing where "Smokey Rolls Down Thunder Canyon" was often self-serious, and overall a pleasant diversion for Banhart fans.

The album effectively sets a mood but tends to lack the richness and labyrinthine quality of the previous album. It's too direct, skeletal, and mechanical to function as more than background listening.

Snoop Cube 40 $hort is largely a funky good time.

These songs aren't knockouts, but they're friendly and comfortable, the kind of sturdy roots-pop that seems like it'd be easy to pull off but must not be, as this delicate balance of conversational melody and guy-next-door appeal has proven elusive to Rucker for over a decade now

Some moments are so bleak that they could be titled descriptively as "What Does Your Witch House Look Like, Pts. 1-2," yet the whole thing sounds like it was created in a state of fevered inspiration.

This is a perfectly adequate Ross LP differentiated by its mix of collaborators more than anything else.

Nothing here is bound to pass "2 On" in terms of popularity, but the highlights are filled with rich details and seductive hooks, heard at full power on the slow jams "He Don't Want It" and "No Contest." The smoldering, slightly bluesy "Salt" and sweetly aching piano ballad "Fires and Flames"--two additional highlights--invalidate all claims that Tinashe is one-dimensional.

Wood$ still writes primarily about his indulgences--liquor, weed, pills, women whose acquiescence evidently falls short of his standard--and occasionally shows some vulnerability.

Even if it's not her most intimate work, Taiga allows Nika to be inventive and craft some some stunningly beautiful moments along the way.

No one should have expected getting Blood from a Stone to be easy, but it's a shame it had to be this much of a chore.

Sounding grand and intimate at the same time isn't easy, but on Old Friends, I Was a King make it seem as simple and as pleasurable as walking barefoot through the grass on a warm day.

[The second version of Just in Love is] a minor blip on an otherwise immensely entertaining and enjoyable pop record--inspired, tons of fun, and positioning Joe Jonas as a worthy successor to Justin.