If Kip's songs aren't as hook-heavy or as sticky as his idols, it is nevertheless admirable that he's completely revamped his sound so he doesn't feel like anybody else in contemporary country.

The commercial strides are obvious. The creative advancements are less apparent, obstructed by some unappealing measures, but they're in there.

Ones and Sixes is a brave effort that stands apart from much of Low's work, and there are certainly glimpses of their dour beauty on these 12 songs, but in the final analysis this is an album that fails more often than it triumphs.

Bookended by a pair of moody cuts replete with intoned prayers spoken in the background, Abandoned plays to the severity of the Catholic faith, and if Defeater's thematic tendencies have begun to wear a bit thin, they still manage to pack a pretty big punch on a musical level.

The instrumental interludes between tunes--the aimless meandering of "Muddy Dune," the squiggling "Ash Toke," and the squall of "Pincher"--are just long enough to distract and blunt the twisted, head-crushing impact of Kunk somewhat.

Kelly Jones and his crew know how to craft big music, knowing that often the atmosphere matters more than melody.

While parts of Too show FIDLAR trying to find their footing, it's all part of their evolution and is not without its charms.

Even making an allowance for Hook's glaring absence, Music Complete is still a watered-down and uninspired album by a band that lost the plot long ago and can now only capture an occasional glimmer of what made it so great in the first place.

Add a short runtime and You Disgust Me feels like an inflated EP of lost tracks and hidden heat, so marvel at their more crafted and conceptual albums, then come back here for a more free-form sampler of strange.

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

Underneath its aggressive opening and occasional woozy electronics, it is anchored by two or three songs (the exuberant "Fallinlove2nite," the recycled "This Could B Us," maybe the Graffiti Bridge throwback "Million $ Show") that wind up revealing how the rest of the record feels like little more than nimble calisthenics.

Hollywood Vampires is just a lark but it's a fun lark, and having fun is what matters in a party.

There's no disguising how Ryan Adams flips Taylor Swift's 1989 upside-down, turning a moment of triumph into bedsit introspection, a concept that is undoubtedly theoretically interesting, but the record works because Adams doesn't play this as a stunt.

Girl Band have similarly taken advantage of their expanded recording budget in order to craft their most bracing work yet.

While the occasional foray into the shallower end of the mainstream may divide some listeners, there's enough here to keep longtime followers satiated (and probably a little curious/nervous as to what the future holds) until the next ride.

This EP dazzles and then disappears before the sun comes up, leaving listeners with the exhilarating feeling of "wow," and the less-pleasing feeling of "what happened?"

If it's not the group's finest work, it has a genuine emotional purity and reaffirms Born Ruffians' place on the Canadian indie rock scene.

Uncovered feels slightly spare and quiet in comparison [to 1994's Cover Girl]--there are no productions as bright and full as that on "Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic"--but it follows the same basic formula as that album, with Colvin finding the quiet, intimate heart lying in each of these songs.

Beck isn't so much interested in resurrecting specific songs from his career as he is in revisiting particular styles and moods

The 21st century version of the Zombies are, not unexpectedly, a band with a different sound and feel than the '60s cult heroes, but Still Got That Hunger reminds us Rod Argent and Colin Blunstone still have the talent that made their names, and there are enough moments here where it shines through that fans will want to give this a thorough listen.

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.

It makes for a solid pop album overall, but it's a little too formulaic and predictable to rate among her best work.

At just under 30 minutes, it feels like a bit of a lark, but its brevity actually works in its favor, as an extended set of Haines' sneering incantations and electronic skullduggery would likely require a certain amount of intestinal fortitude.

For better or worse, that same sense of déjà vu pervades much of Sounds Good Feels Good, with the band borrowing liberally from its influences.

Not quite as catchy or harmony-rich as a few of their earliest songs, some of Little May's early adopters may be a little bummed out by the material, but many will find it hits a sweet spot between the heart and head in which to snugly settle.

The brass in question swells and sways capably throughout, but ultimately feels like window-dressing, never fully delivering the arm hair-raising crescendo that one would expect from an army of cornets, trombones, and euphoniums, though this is mostly the fault of the source material, which ultimately lacks the structural boldness with which to support such finery.

This is surf music for street goths and beach bums with bad attitudes.

A bumpy, oddly compelling restart, Purpose should hook open-minded pop fans who previously paid him no mind, and it could even win back some of those who wrote Bieber off years ago.

Throughout the album, Kylie sounds very game, merry even, and there's enough holiday spirit on offer to help even the grinchiest customer make it through the season with the bare minimum of humbug.

This LP will no doubt please listeners with an ear for more astringent experimentations, but for the most part, it seems like Rats on Rafts have drifted a bit too far into their own ambitions at the expense of their songs.

Ironically, this hip-hop heavy revision has the net effect of straightening out a wild, wooly record.

Suitable for backgrounds and times when you just want something pleasant as a diversion, but not much more.

It seems like Parquet Courts might be taking notes from labelmates Girl Band, producing some of their most uncompromising work to date. Monastic Living is a very curious move for the band.

To a casual listener, it might be a little much, but considering the Pope released an album with an electric guitar, he deserves a little credit for having some edge. Whether listeners are religious or not, these are messages that are universally comforting in dark times.

The Buffet does have more dimensions than Black Panties, including the enjoyable "Step in the Name of Love" rewrite "Backyard Party" and the throwback, Love Letter-styled "All My Fault."

The mix of guests, which includes Deniece Williams, CeeLo Green, and Jessie Ware (who once covered Caldwell), add to the album's cross-generational character.

The succession of guest artists is so long that it becomes disruptive. Jeremih nonetheless delivers enough slightly quavering, somewhat vulnerable sounding NC-17 and X-rated lines to keep ears perked.

Christmas in Reno will not likely be welcomed in most extended-family, five-CD holiday shuffles, so enjoy it as intended, alone in a basement apartment with some stockpiled wine on Christmas Eve.

The simple guitar leads and shared lead vocals of Cosials and Perrote are charming in their ramshackle way and their quirky back-and-forth interplay is the glue that holds it all together.

When the band attempts to branch out, the results are mixed.

Wildfire is the work of a determined singer/songwriter who prizes craft over poetry or introspection. Platten specializes in skyscraping melodies and big, bombastic surfaces and these are the elements that not only fuel Wildfire, they distinguish it from the singer/songwriter's clear antecedents.

"Tough Towns," which salutes cities like Pittsburgh and Cleveland, similarly lapses into ambient space for an extended time period, and closing track "Fame II: The Wreckoning" is nearly still for five minutes before its splashing, hopeful finale. Other than these more reflective moments, the album is generally pretty exhilarating, particularly on vicious avant-rap tracks like "At Your Service."

The lyrics are generally focused around breakups, loss, and loneliness, and while those subjects are well-trod territory, Redway sings them with conviction, and his passionate vocals complement the tracks nicely.

A Tuesday afternoon pool party of a record, Songs in the Key of Animals sounds like a great time was had by all, but that you kind of had to be there to appreciate it.

Often, the tunes appear to be handsome constructions--grand, stately, and well appointed--but their foundations are shaky, constructed from threadbare melodies and words that dissipate not long after they land.

Hidden City would have made a great EP, but falls far short of the mark as an album. It closes this arbitrary trilogy on a strange and unsatisfying note.

Grasque proves to be the group's most elusive outing to date, favoring icy, often formless melodies that come and go as they please, and existential lyrics that periodically dissolve into ghostly, wordless repetition.

Compared to You Are Not Alone and One True Vine, the quality of the material is more variable.

Aside from messing with his own formula, it's not necessarily the most groundbreaking or well-written LP Sartain has made and, taken as a whole, it feels more like an experiment than a major step forward.

Songs like "18 Wheeler" and the relationship laundry list "Boys (That I Dated in High School)" are surprising winners on an album that feels like it probably should be written off.

They've simply absorbed the lessons they've learned and are content to lay back, spinning out trippy harmonies and fuzzy riffs, music where the feel matters far more than individual songs. This also means the band hasn't changed much in 20 years--back in 1996, songs were also secondary to vibe; they were still peddling hippie nonsense--but the older Kula Shaker are better at execution, which means K 2.0 is the rare sequel that trumps the original.

Khalifa, the album, is influenced by the "See You Again" sound, and yet that mammoth single's inclusion would've helped round out a set of tracks that aren't nearly as direct in their lyrics or intent. These expansive cuts surely benefit the Wiz discography, and will do best when shuffled into his canon, but lump them together into one LP and take away the driving influence and Khalifa feels more like part of a continuum than a self-contained statement.

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.

Everybody plays the songs they love in the way they learned them, so the highlights fall along the spectrum of sensitivity to enthusiasm.

As of now, they've proven that they can wear the baggy tracksuits, but not that they necessarily deserve them.

Even when things get silly on We Can Do Anything, the silliness blows on by, headed toward a bit of revved-up folk or unexpected introspection, and those twists are what makes the album worth hearing.

Occasionally, there's a slight surprise--Buckley attempts Bukka White's Delta stomp on a slippery, slurred version of "Poor Boy Long Way from Home" -- but usually, You & I feels of piece with the rest of his early work.

Xtreme Now is eclectic to the point of feeling scattered, and its songs don't entirely live up to the outrageous concept.

They embrace their essence, how they want to be broader and burlier than the rest, how they want reflection to seem like celebration and parties to be a dark night of the soul. This contradiction means the band remains an uneasy good time, but at least on Us and the Night the reconstituted 3 Doors Down have decided to look on the sunny side of life.

When she gets heavy with either beats or ballads, This Is What The Truth Feels Like slows to a crawl. Cut away these excesses--these moments of emotional bloodletting or thirsty appeals to the top of the charts--and This Is What The Truth Feels Like manages to be as fleet, giddy and charming as Gwen Stefani ever is.

Liima still recognizably sounds like Efterklang, but it seems like there's less pressure for them to construct a monumental statement here, and the group seem to enjoy their freedom.

As it stands, Metal Resistance is still worth hearing, if only for the half of the record that captures the insanely silly balancing act that their debut managed so well.

There's something admirable about the album's solemnity: the Lumineers are on a quest to be taken seriously, and even if they overplay their hand, the earnestness is ingratiating.

PersonA finds the group still offering music-festival-friendly fare, but of a nature that's more jammy than jamboree.

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.

English Heart is a great concept, and for the most part the execution works, but one can't help but wish it had been recorded in the '70s or '80s, when Ronnie's voice was strong enough to make the most of the material.

It Kindly Stopped for Me is no easy listen, and its mostly mumbled outpourings don't leap out of the speakers, but it is intensely honest, which is something we don't hear often enough.

It may be an intentional shift, but the soulful resonance of 2012's The End of That has given way to an artful experimentalism that, while musically impressive, doesn't make as big an impact. Still, it's an ambitious near miss from a very good band that has proven it can be both cerebral and heartfelt.

Apart from the relatively lively pulse of the aching "Another One," everything plays out at slow-jam tempo, and the vocals often slip into falsetto mode with lapses in enunciation. The duo is at their most effective on finale "The Line," a bare, subtly churchified pleader.

I Long to See You is well worth investigating even if, at times, it is overly tentative.

They may lack the immediacy of some of their more envelope-pushing contemporaries, but as sonic world-builders they excel, and certainly possess the acumen to expand those horizons on future outings.

Anohni's targets deserve all the fury she unleashes upon them, but that doesn't make this any easier to engage with, even if you agree with what Anohni has to say.

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.

On a track-by-track level, Detour has a few stumbles--the biggest is "Night Life," and that's due to the gravelly growl of Willie Nelson, not Lauper--and if it's taken as a collection of performances and not a coherent record, it's fun.

Even if it isn't as dynamic as its predecessor, at the very least Ullages reflects that Eagulls can do more than rant.

As with the first volume of Electronica, the second is commendable for its scope and its attempt to bridge several generations of electronic music, but as a listening experience, it requires a fair amount of cherry-picking.

Nothing had every element in place to make Guilty of Everything very close to brilliant, a modern shoegaze/noise rock classic; on Tired of Tomorrow, they seem to have lost their way and have made something quite standard issue and disappointing.

One hears the core of a great band on I Hear You, but if Arbor Labor Union want to make a great record, they're going to have to find a way to make these songs go somewhere rather than letting them wander in a circle, though they at least sound like they're having a good time staying in place.

The Machine Stops sounds like Hawkwind--a diluted version of what they sounded like at their peak, to be sure, but still Hawkwind, as eccentric and individual as ever.

This is a record that attempts to unfold but remains grounded within its own humble limitations.

A Giant Dog aren't necessarily offering anything that hasn't been done before, but Pile is definitely a fun listen with enough bright spots and kinetic energy to sustain it.

Like Bringing Back the Sunshine before it, If I'm Honest is at its core a balladeer's record, and Shelton pulls off these romance tunes with a sly, masculine grace that complements the album's sleek modern surfaces.

Catfish & the Bottlemen hit their marks dutifully, rushing through their melodies but never taking it so quick that the singsong tunes don't stick, slowing down the tempo for needed breathers and ending the whole shebang with "Outside," an extended number designed to ratchet up expectations prior to the obligatory encore.

Ultimately, it's this guitar interplay that's the attribute of Pierced Arrow. Some of the songs stick out--particularly, Stills' two attempts at social commentary, "Virtual World" and "Mr. Policeman," both of which would've fit on a CSN LP -- but this is a record about instrumental interplay, not about songs.

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.

Most of the time, Basses Loaded is more interesting in concept than it is satisfying in execution, though the best moments suggest that future full-length collaborations with McDonald or Dunn would be worth exploring.

Appointed with lush strings, horns, and a host of backup singers, the songs are well-arranged and impeccably sung, but it's hard not to want Jury to expand his range somewhat.

For now, this album is a very bland, quite anonymous-sounding disappointment.

The minuses overwhelm the pluses, however, and the rampant mediocrity takes care of the rest.

Aas a whole, Why Are You OK isn't quite as memorable a set as they've proven capable of delivering.

It has to be said that the overall experience is far from Yung's magnum opus, but it is the sound of a young band finding its feet in a meaningful way, breaking down past experiences, and creating a record that isn't restricted by preexisting ideas of youth.

Eyeland's willingness to break the Dust Bowl minstrel mold is admirable, and it has enough moments that resonate to win back fans who may have drifted off to greener (or more sepia-toned) pastures during the band's long break from recording, but those listeners will have to be willing to sift through an awful lot of sonic detritus to find them.

The music is vigorously played and faithfully captured, but the Mystery Lights' identity seems a little too lost in time.

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.

Droll humor is not Bazan's bailiwick, and in spite of some of Blanco's near-misses, it's nice to hear him put down the guitar and insert himself into less familiar environs.

With On Desire, the Drowners sound more confident and more in tune with each other as a band, but they still remain captives of their influences. They're evolving, but at a pace that may never yield any new fruit.

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.

The EP is fine, by all means, but it's definitely not the Aphex release to reach for if you're expecting to be challenged or blown away by something utterly unique or exciting.