The change does the Godfrey brother's music good, bringing it more in line with the Morcheeba name and the masterful good songs/good vibes combination that made their first two full-lengths so haunting.

Higher Than the Eiffel is most reminiscent of the work that Freestylers and Lo-Fidelity Allstars were doing eight to ten years ago. Both of them aged into their classic full-length statement with surprising grace, and made intriguing music long after most punters had deserted them.

Landline is cloying, full of soon-to-be-dated production tricks, drab, mediocre songs.

A confounding set of song sketches and hot riffs, this one belongs with 2005's Interim, 2001's Are You Are Missing Winner, and others that are considered "for hardcore fans only."

Although this by no means makes the album unpleasant to listen to, it's more likely to have you reaching for some of the classic albums of decades past than giving it a second spin.

As this train barrels on, there's the sense that the record never really started and will never really end, but such full-throttle indulgence may indeed be what some fans want, for there is a whole lot of bang for this buck.

The Door Behind the Door is crisper and more massive-sounding than its predecessor. However, as they polish their narcotic haze, the Black Ryder sacrifice some of the rock & roll grit that made Buy the Ticket, Take the Ride so captivating.

This is a welcome, snarling, and satisfying return.

Heirs demonstrates a band that can be articulate without speaking in words, and And So I Watch You from Afar are a smart, inventive group who continue to progress with each visit to the recording studio.

Think of it as the Khaled collection with the most R&B (thanks to Brown), the most Future, or maybe the most Khaled as the DJ not only does his usual talking over tracks, but features his Finga Licking fried chicken restaurant right on the album cover.

The band's return to basics here is effective with Calder at the helm, and results in an affecting record with consistent intensity and enough hooks to promote both catharsis and return visits.

Abysma is an intriguing development in Wiesenfeld's sound, and easily the most cohesive Geotic release to date.

Maybe it's not a major record but its mellowness is charming, and the two bluesmen play off each other like the longtime friends they are, which is an endearing thing to hear.

The album's glitchy title track is sparse yet acutely detailed, and sinister without seeming too evil-minded. Like the rest of the album, it seems curious about the dark side rather than fully possessed.

If Down to the River isn't as adventurous or hungry or exploratory as any Allman Brothers Band album, there's nevertheless a deliberately cultivated warmth that's designed to appeal to Allman fans-and, given a shot, Down to the River may well appeal to that audience.

Both polished and revealing, New Age Norms, Vol. 1 reflects how Cold War Kids continue to broaden their horizons.

Throbbing and covered in sweat, Translation is unapologetic in its intent and a surprisingly welcome reminder of the Peas' power to lift spirits not through socially conscious bars, but internationally appealing, borderless people-pleasing that unites through dance.

Musically and thematically, this is some of Air's most elegant, mature music; it does what it does so compellingly that any attempts to be "poppy" would miss the point.

The two couldn't be more at odds vocally, but Knopfler's laconic drawl is like an easy chair for Harris' fluid pipes.

Buying into Luhrmann's vision is always the issue, but here, the music is crafted enough, inspired enough, and deep enough that it's worth diving into without reservations.

Even if every track here isn't quite as inspired as this song, or the music from the first movie, The Hunger Games: Catching Fire is a solidly entertaining soundtrack.

Fans of the ever-prolific artist might enjoy it simply because it is unmistakably a Mark Kozelek album, but his dry, straightforward readings won't do anything to convince listeners who don't share the same sentiments for these tunes.

Apocalypse is a refreshing change of pace, a frantically urgent statement that taps into the visceral with a welcome blast of noise from a voice that still has much to say.

While some fans might prefer Macklemore with Lewis, Gemini is a reminder that before the multi-platinum singles, hit albums, and thrift shop threads, he could handle himself just fine.

Most of this album is tuneful singer/songwriterism, particularly on the second side, where this album really takes off with a series of rolling, melodic, acoustic-based songs that truly demonstrate that Keith can be a sturdy, memorable songwriter.

While it was unfinished and framed in '80s studio tropes, their attempt to complete it with modern charts and muddy, hip-hop-styled mix weighs down what remains of the original proceedings.

With folks like Currensy and French Montana lending features, along with a producers list that goes from Lex Luger to Lee Majors, the album is stuffed as it could be, but Ross has always been a wizard when it comes to picking high-profile friends that deliver.

Harlequin is the type of album that may not please those who hear the saucy single and come for more of the same, but it may thrill certain headphoned listeners who appreciate both classic songwriting and an audacious approach.

At its most passable, COI is an engaging play with enough highlights to pack a playlist and keep the party moving.

Ultimately, with Whispers, Rosenberg has crafted an album of sweet, hummable anthems for tender-hearted troubadours everywhere.

The first half is good enough to make Dangerously in Love one of the best mainstream urban R&B records released in 2003.

Most of these songs are not quite up to Hart's usual caliber. His inherent charms are hard to deny; they just feel slightly threadbare this time out.

Ultimately, it frustrates because the listener doesn't get much in the way of reward for the chore of endurance.

Many of the songs are sturdy, constructed to support these grand ambitions, but these individual pieces are not as consequential as the big, big picture

Damaged Bug is a celebration of the strange and often unstable world of analog electronics, and while there's considerably less "crash and bang" to the project than Dwyer's work with Coachwhips and Thee Oh Sees, it has a scuzziness that fans of the prolific noisemaker's other work will appreciate.

Fans will appreciate the new directions and there's enough on W:/2016ALBUM/ to introduce curious new listeners to the mutable world of the mau5.

Knopfler's distinctive conversational baritone begins calmly intoning lyrics, and eventually there are examples of his melodic fingerpicked guitar style on both acoustic and electric.

Party Rock is an indulgent record with plenty of fun and immaturity, but a real need for a growing musical identity.

He also leans a bit too heavily on co-producer Clint Lagerberg, who wrote Rascal Flatts' chart-topping "Here Comes Goodbye" but fails to bring similar hitmaking hooks to Kelley's table, and his vocals sound forced, with a deep baritone twang replacing the breathy croon he used on earlier albums.

A concept album that doesn't get weighed down by the story line is a rarity, but it is something that Within Temptation succeed at with The Unforgiving.

Country Hits: Bluegrass Style doesn't signal any kind of new direction for him and that may well be the album's most comfortable strength.

London Fog showcases a band who doesn't know its own attributes, and that's why it's worthwhile: it's the sound of a band discovering its own strengths.

While the bulk of Underworld is immediately enjoyable, there is a lot of material that is ultimately unmemorable, despite a handful of key tracks that serve to satiate until the next release.

The Deathrays deliver the sonic equivalent of a fighter jet buzzing a control tower, and while they may not bring anything too new to the White Stripes/Black Keys power duo model, they've certainly proven that they belong in the same arena.

The album runs more than an hour, with 23 tracks ruminating on similar musical and topical themes, but somehow Me vs. Myself stays fresh throughout.

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.

Echoes of classic U2, Echo & the Bunnymen, and Swervedriver resonate throughout.

Die-hard fans might rush to judge Under the Iron Sea as sounding a bit too much like U2.

Between the Senses rests with honesty and a tenderness similar to the likes of the Verve, but without pretense.

The expansive sonic palette of Pelo bears little resemblance to conventional pop sensibilities of any stripe, instead most closely recalling German electro-alchemists Mouse on Mars. Even more remarkable is that the album's innovations don't come at the expense of the Navins' vaunted melodicism?

Neither a retreat nor a leap forward, Instant 0 in the Universe is pleasant and nowhere near as trying as some of the group's recent work, but it's one more Stereolab release that is equally difficult to dislike or fully embrace.

While the album lapses occasionally with a couple of patches of redundant production, Date of Birth is a strong follow-up from a crew who keep it real by nature.

Because the sound is of paramount importance, this does succeed as pure radio-ready product, which is enough for Sparks to sustain her momentum if not enough to give her some kind of identity to build a career upon.

At their best, the Dears make music so beautiful that you can sometimes forget how bitter and resigned they seem to be, and Lovers Rock works the "pretty music about ugly emotions" angle as effectively as anything they or their peers have done in ages.

It's this Grand Royal mish-mash style of mixing genres that makes this such a fun, cartoonish, joy ride.

The mellow vibes are appealing in their own lackadaisical way, but as the short LP approaches its conclusion it's hard not to wish there was just a little more discipline, perhaps enough to sculpt these pleasant sounds into full songs.

This is Christmas music that can be enjoyed by those who otherwise loathe it.

On Last Night, Moby is as blissfully out of touch with modern club music as he is current.

The input of all three musicians can be heard from front to back, through swirling layers of ever-shifting sounds and trance-inducing sequences that escalate, expansive and borderline theatrical, with shifts between light and heavy that occur gradually more often than abruptly.

At this point in his career, his best move is to take these types of risks, and when he does so on the ten-minute closer "The Man Who Laughs," with its underlying orchestral score by Tyler Bates (composer for the Halloween remakes The Devil's Rejects and The Watchmen), the results are compelling and unnerving in a good way.

It's a lot like "Jagged Little Pill," but musically this is far closer to the muddled mystic worldbeat of "Supposed Former Infatuation Junkie," thanks in large part to her collaboration with Guy Sigsworth, best known for his productions with Björk and Madonna.

Ultimately, it's a flimsy album; though it's pleasant enough as background music, upon closer listening it falls apart.

Time to Die is far from a bad album, but unpredictability still suits the Dodos better than trying to fit into a more recognizable indie rock mold.

This absurdly overstuffed synthesis is unmistakably Muse's own, so thunderous it drowns out any good intentions the band may have had.

The album cements the band as a love-them-or-hate-them proposition, but the Fiery Furnaces remain true to themselves.

Though the Manchester duo might not be completely on par with the bands they emulate, they more than earn an A for effort while crafting some wonderful melodies along the way.

Unfortunately, Fear Yourself's intricate, careful sound results in a rather bland album.

The Ragpicker’s Dream is a restrained success, at least on its own terms. It may not please some of Knopfler’s old “Money For Nothing” fans, but at this stage, he’s obviously not trying to.

By far the most engaging album yet from Mono, Walking Cloud proves that the band is an entity unto itself.

Luckily, the sound of the band remains unchanged, and as one of the best drummers in the business, Portnoy picks up the reigns and rides the Deathbat's double kick in complete synchronicity with Gates, Christ, and Vengeance.

For Shelton's fans, this is a whole helping of what you like best, and it's carefully formulated to be exactly that.

Beaus$Eros is fringe listening.

Apocalyptic Love never tries too hard, so it winds up satisfying on its own limited scale.

With Monster, Kiss hit the mark best when rewriting the sound they developed as youngsters and when they keep it simple, predictable, and fun.

While certain songs definitely stand on their own, the ability to capture a feeling throughout is what makes the album memorable and worthy of repeat listening.

Portico still holds appeal for ambient music fans and those who embrace the fringe, along with Portico Quartet regulars who might find this trio's temperament a bit different, but the musical textures will be familiar.

Keith went back to the tried and true, crafting songs that fall within his wheelhouse. At the edges, there are some signs of either experimentation or, perhaps, desperation.

If this isn't quite as strong an offering as Vol. 1, which seems to have received a better set of songs, in terms of performances and the group's sonic signature, this is a strong piece of work that reminds listeners that the Dears have few peers on the Montreal music scene.

At its best, Pop Monster injects plenty of fresh ideas into the Broods' repertoire, offering a handful of confident and polished gems that could have made for a stunning album if they had just sharpened their focus. Otherwise, lackluster inclusions that echo Lorde's sophomore shift dull the effort, which distracts from the excitement that occasionally shines through.

Get Hurt shows that so long as they're passionate about their music, it doesn't matter where the band are getting their inspiration from, because genuinely caring about something is always compelling.

There's an argument to made that Yelawolf's entry into the world of official releases is a bit too cluttered with distractions -- stars, prime beats, and big-time hooks -- to be considered a proper showcase, but when given room, he shines through.

There's nothing overtly bad about Beacon; it shows that Two Door Cinema Club still have a remarkable knack for winsome melodies and harmonies set to kinetic beats. It just doesn't have the spark that Tourist History had, even if it's a more accomplished album overall.

As a vocalist, this may not be his natural forte, but he takes great care with the songs, and that palpable love is enough to make Kisses on the Bottom worth a spin or two.

Some judicious editing on the band's part would have made this a worthy follow-up to their first two excellent albums but as it stands, it's more of a confused and confusing record that is hard to recommend to anyone except fans who came on board when O was released.

Over-processed and chaotic it may be, but never bereft of invention, Complete Me is always an intriguing listen that confirms the arrival of one of the U.K. dance scene's most exciting talents.

Their richest and most varied album to date.

Throughout the record, Sheeran seems assured in his smooth schtick, and that cheesy confidence, combined with the hints of new style, help make Divide his easiest album to enjoy.

The Outsider is a carefully crafted, artistically elusive mess -- far more scattershot than even his first UNKLE record (Psyence Fiction), but much more interesting for its excellent productions.

Like 2018's Everything Was Beautiful, and Nothing Hurt, All Visible Objects is a highlight in Moby's late-era catalog, a revitalization that serves both his passionately held beliefs and his core sound.

What's truly appealing about Grainger's solo effort is the fun he's obviously having.

Once again, N.E.R.D. are at their best when they abandon all regard for the Hot 100.

O pure musical terms they're more gripping than many of their peers, displaying a restless sense of musicality that often makes Paper Walls interesting even if means they can stray toward areas that are just a shade too indulgent for their own good.

Think of this as a run-of-the-mill Khaled album and that mill is still doing pretty awesome.

The man behind the Gangsta Grillz mixtapes and the man literally behind T.I. and his Grand Hustle crew continues to do the improbable on his 2012 release Quality Street Music.

It does indeed have light shade and a nice melodic bent that counters the slightly desperate rock & roll found elsewhere on the album.

Green may not be a sonic wizard, and her songs may cover familiar topics in a familiar way, but she fills the album with songs you'll be humming to yourself all day long, adding to mixes, and sharing with friends who are into weird pop-punk, and that's what's most important in the end.

Outsides is yet another strange installment in Frusciante's unabashedly weird and sometimes uncomfortably naked evolution as a solo artist.

The songs ultimately blur into one extensive blast of rugged emotion and high energy, dazzling in their urgency and always threatening to crumble out of precise playing into unhinged noise.