Overall Moment Bends is a return to form, if not quite as inspired as Architecture in Helsinki's best moments.

Black Laden Crown is at its best when the band keeps it slow and low, as they do with great success on workmanlike candelabra-burners like "Last Ride," "Skulls & Daisies," and "Pull the Sun" and it's in those solemn moments of churning, Jim Morrison-esque torment and woe that Glenn Danzig sounds the most sinister and at ease.

"Boat Trip" is the album's strongest moment, a gently treading meeting of spacy Fleet Foxes-style harmonies and buried aquatic melodies cribbed from post-SMiLE-era Brian Wilson mania.

If you don't listen closely, it goes down easy, but listening with just a slightly critical ear reveals those similarities [to Dave Matthews] as near farcical.

On their third campaign to open the public's eyes to the ills of modern society, Los Angeles industrial anarchists 3Teeth expand the scope of their assault with the powerful Metawar, a hulking monster that makes shutdown.exe sound tame in comparison.

This collection is a nice gift for fans who wanted all these stray tracks gathered up in one easily accessible place and shows that Drake's cast-offs aren't far from his keepers and his minor moves are still worth following just in case he comes up with something genius. Nothing here quite rises to that level, but overall, it's a solid entry in his ever-growing catalog.

If the individual message may wind up fading like yesterday's newspapers, the music will keep The Monsanto Years burning bright.

It's a familiar mix of music, to be sure, but Fragile Future also sounds more valid than other emo albums, even if its hooks aren't quite as muscular as those on the band's previous disc.

The obsession Cradle of Filth have with post-production is the very thing that removes the power from this set and makes it more of a wry--and unintentionally comedic--piece and impossible to take seriously.

Despite Robbins being literally unable to sing, it's a better album than anyone had any right to expect.

The album has the kind of off-the-cuff, palpable sense of fun that happens when two old friends lay down tracks together.

Forward is a delightful return that focuses on the Heavies' love of smooth late-'70s/early-'80s sounds.

Delivers a denouement and a love letter to fans with an assured set rooted in the genre's sonic hallmarks.

The album is generally enjoyable, and it's doubtful T.I. has to worry about being dethroned within the near future.

Fasciinatiion clicks enough of the time to make it a step forward from "Wet From Birth," and despite its unevenness, at times it can be fasciinatiing.

Prism [is] a tighter, cleaner record than its predecessors--there are no extremes here, nothing that pushes the boundaries of either good taste or tackiness.

From Here on In often meanders around, getting by on its influences, rather than seeking the necessary hooks and melodies.

Bicycles & Tricycles is a bit of a letdown, especially after a three-year absence.

The problem is that the songwriting has gotten a little mannered, a little undistinguished, and the performances, while sturdy, tend to be slightly flat.

Confidence bursts throughout, and for a band that has been around seven years and has never released a studio full-length album until now, achieving nearly epic-like status is quite impressive.

With The Fabled City, Morello's growth as a topical songwriter is enormous; he's brought the singer/songwriter into a cultural discussion, a dialogue, where we can dialogue not only about characters (who are treated with dignity as speaking subjects, not merely as objects to hang a tune on) and their struggles, but also with popular music again, as a ready tool for awareness of the world around us.

Amid the many features and incredible dynamism that mark every UNKLE full-length, there are no songs to grab onto and little of real essence.

While the murky atmosphere and late-night pulse of songs like "Push" and "Fast Seconds," might not immediately scream fun, there's something undeniably engaging about them.

When It Was Now is a solid debut that proves Trojans wasn't a fluke.

The end results feel curiously constrained, as if Twain was dancing in front of a mirror instead of underneath a mirrorball.

Layus still sings them like they're gospel verses, channeling enough sincerity and bold self-assurance to make up for the fact that he's the umpteenth person to compare his love to an ocean. This is the band's best album to date. Looks like the third time's the charm, boys.

Seven Rainbows only really does justice to [Gold's] undeniable talents when it abandons its Woodstock-aping ambitions.

The second half is a laborious crawl, a variety of glorified and slow bonus tracks.

While rap-rock is a sound that's prone to disaster, the band has the confidence to make it work, finding just the right blend of angst and swagger to pull the whole thing off.

While Nielson would be well-served by sticking with the colorful mess of sound the band seemingly effortlessly creates, he could go the melancholy troubadour route and make that work too. Blue Record is certainly proof of that.

He's Got... may alienate even some of Kinsella's more patient and open-eared fans, as it sometimes wanders into a slow ramble over repetitive dissonance. At the same time, its impulsive quality may be irresistible to a punkier sensibility, offering catharsis in its deliberate lack of polish and self-censorship. If it's possible to be refreshing and somewhat tedious at once, this album nails it.

As it stands now, the album is an overlong, undercooked, and cliched listen that will no doubt appeal to the Drake fans who can't get enough of him, but will leave anyone looking for something new sadly out of luck.

Dumb Luck isn't quite as cohesive as Dntel's debut was, but it is beautiful and carefully crafted enough to show that none of Tamborello's successes are flukes.

Rather than subverting culture, the band goes one step further, subverting the expectations of listeners by performing the songs without irony. Most surprising, however, is how well these songs work with Bad Religion's driving and melodic style and Greg Graffin's distinctive voice.

It's an excellent way for Jenkinson to branch out and try something different--his playing and programming is definitely up to his high standard--but aside from the sweet retro vibes, it's hardly a classic.

Especially after the staid Junk, the deliberate liveliness of Listen is indeed welcome, and sometimes, the results come close to infectious.

More often than not, though, Flashy is lots of cleverly dumb fun.

Keeping such a schizophrenic affair entertaining and connected is a feat in itself, and Spank Rock's second album shows that, despite long odds, Juwan can succeed on his own terms.

With their second album Vapor Transmission, they return to deliver another set of electronic-laden rockers, but this time out they do so with slicker production and improved songwriting.

As before, Ginuwine rises above most of his dozens of imitators in the contemporary R&B realm, with a set of productions -- from the returning Troy Oliver -- that fit his voice perfectly and rate as slightly edgier than the norm.

There are times when One Plus One Is One is simply too much, and the fresh spin that Gough brought to the British singer/songwriter tradition in his earlier work is missed, but he's still a fine addition to it.

The Offspring's most musically mature collection to date. The arrangements are tight and don't bore, which is sometimes the case with albums that feature similar-sounding songs.

This is suburban middle-aged music dressed up as something younger, something more exotic, something far more street-wise and interesting than it actually is.

It's a startling, challenging, and significantly enjoyable debut album.

There's something gelling on Dirty Glow that almost matches the album title itself, but it's just not quite there yet.

While the acoustic renditions of the songs certainly have a more pastoral and contemplative feeling about them, Yellowcard still manage to keep the energy that made the album so vital when it was released in 2003.

It gives old-schoolers a reason to dust off their jungle hoodies and drum'n'bass shoes, while the 2013 set get a bottom-heavy, funky, and passionate alternative to the current crop of bright EDM and light indie electronica.

The craft Zoot Woman bring to Star Climbing'a best moments continues to set them apart from the ever-growing number of similarly minded acts.

Ultimately, with Young as the Morning Old as the Sea, Passenger has crafted an album that, not unlike the oceans, fields, roads, and relationships that inspired it, remains with you, calling you to return.

Covered in a shiny electronic gloss, the album flits between slow-burners and mellow pop.

Always in Between might lack the momentum that helped Glynne's debut propel her to the top of the charts, but it offers enough highlights for a fun listen.

There's a slight de-emphasis on his lyrical genius, but that's fine. It's clear that Ronnie Wood & His Wild Five love playing this music and that palpable joy makes Mad Lad a fine time.

Quavo Huncho is enjoyable but unmemorable. It's not quite a Migos album, but it comes close enough to tide fans over until album number four.

It doesn't stay still, it peaks and ebbs, flowing steadily between brooding and explosions of repressed rage, a fitting soundtrack for aging rap-rockers who are comfortable in their skin but restless at heart.

Not all Glee members are created equal--Cory Monteith (the show's hunky football captain) and Dianna Agron (the alternately caustic and vulnerable head cheerleader) can't sing nearly as well as their co-stars--but this soundtrack has enough star power to keep things trucking along, especially when powerhouse alto Lea Michele takes the wheel.

It's far from revolutionary and it's certainly not deep, but as often as not, Entertainment at least manages to live up to its title.

Those fans seeking a return to Godsmack's roots will not be disappointed; for others, the sound may be a retrenchment because there was no place else for them to go. The only undebatable thing is that The Oracle is the most aggressive disc Godsmack have issued since their debut.

This 2018 album shows they haven't lost their knack for hooky-heavy hard rock that wedges its way into the subconscious. The album can't be called a comeback--the group were toiling away during the 2010s, after all--but it certainly opens the door on another act in their career, one that is sonically tied to their past but feels brighter (and more relaxed) than their first chapters.

Miley Cyrus & Her Dead Petz needs an editor, but there's more than enough worthwhile music here to transcend shock value.

They are trying very hard to be a specific thing, realize that they can't quite take it all the way, and add the occasional coating of camp in order to look less silly.

Conviction is always evident in her soothing voice, even when it's modulated to a jarring extent or sounds somewhat garbled.

Peaceful, The World Lays Me Down could have been all kinds of terrible but instead turns out to be an album that fans of the bands mentioned earlier, plus fans of intelligent and heart-felt indie pop, should probably investigate.

Sixes & Sevens is a disjointed conglomeration of different ramblings that can't quite coalesce around any sort of idea.

It feels as if Manson now feels liberated from not being consistently in the spotlight, and his music has opened up as well.

While there are some interesting musical moments on Folklore -- enough to make it worth a listen -- the dogged seriousness and didactic worldview become a bit overbearing not long before the album is a quarter of the way finished, particularly since the fusion of worldbeat and adult alternative pop often seems heavy-handed.

Calamity is slightly inconsistent and could be described as a hit-or-miss affair, but the hits outnumber the misses.

Cut the iffy pop off these 19 tracks and you're left with Roman's true four-star empire, but as it is, Roman Reloaded is a frustrating mix of significant and skippable.

The album is never less than pretty, but it's so slight and drifting that it's difficult to grasp.

While some of these cuts are forgettable, his inventive engagement with Latin pop here is not only successful, but satisfying.

Even if Dopamine shows the scars of labor, that in itself is impressive, and it also emphasizes how, nearly 20 years into his career, Stephan Jenkins prefers to indulge in his idiosyncrasies and not polish them for reasons related to pop.

It looks like they were having fun, but sounds slightly less so--overall, it's clear that no one here was expecting to blow the industry apart; instead, they sound content just making music and recording the experience.

Six Cups of Rebel is chock-full of the kind of bizarre, cartoonish, sci-fi lunacy and cheekily maximalist, gonzo musical odysseys they've made their stock-in-trade.

The album is savvier still, crafted to evoke the spirit and feel of the Eagles' biggest hits.

Mark Lanegan's deep, weathered voice is relatively (rightfully) unornamented and dissipates amid soft drones after "Here come the lonely night…can't escape my mind." It helps make Innocents Moby's most powerful work in several years.

The Brit Award winners have suddenly gone all serious, eschewing their trademark singalong choruses and reining in the quirkiness that briefly made them one of Britain's biggest guitar bands, in favor of a more downbeat and slightly psychedelic sound that may be less annoyingly infectious but is also ultimately less fun.

The E.N.D. (Energy Never Dies) is a mess of pop/dance/rap crossover.

Fixin' the Charts really comes down to the jokes and the concept--how much you appreciate it will depend on how much the idea appeals to you in the first place, and how well you can tolerate Argos' sung/spoken/ranted vocal approach, but it's definitely good for at least a chuckle.

Perhaps keen to avoid their one-hit wonder status, follow-up Future This eschews their original experimental ambitions by shamelessly attempting to repeat its success.

No Hope, No Future doesn’t always play to the band’s proven strengths, but it shows that Good Shoes are a thoroughly independent, even contrary band that's unafraid of change, even when it’s difficult.

It's a hook to beat all hooks in the middle of a desolate recording: a desolate recording that demands several listens to truly penetrate but has worthwhile payoffs subtly placed throughout.

For the most part, The Soul Sessions, Vol. 2 does feel right: it has the form and sound of classic soul while never acknowledging that R&B continued to develop past, say, 1972. For an audience that agrees with that thesis, this is fun.

Bangarang is a disappointingly formulaic affair which hints for the first time that the wheels may soon slowly begin to fall off.

The album is gentler and falls much closer to the feeling of The Places You Have Come to Fear the Most.

Daybreak is successful on two levels: in the way it touches on the best elements of Saves the Day's past works, it's a welcome entry point for new listeners; and with its freshness, it assures established fans that the band is still invigorated after going at it for over a decade.

It's pretty much what you'd expect, which makes it both essential for Of Montreal devotees and nothing all that special.

While there's much here Gill can point to with pride, more than a few fans are likely to feel they didn't get what was advertised.

Non-Fiction nonetheless contains more standouts than any Ne-Yo album since Because of You.

There are some solid breakdowns to sink your teeth into, and the choruses are still huge and anthemic, but the rest might be a little too watered down for serious metalcore devotees.

Calling the World might not be radically inventive, but its solid songcraft and playful shout-outs to rock history are a lot of fun.

Performed with a full backing band, which includes guitarist Dan Sullivan from Nad Navillus, Songs: Ohia stretches out on Fantasma, allowing Molina's songs to breathe but never sounding gratuitous, like a slightly subdued Crazy Horse.

Arguably, some prudent pruning might've made the album great instead of good, but even the album's uneven moments are still pretty enjoyable.

Crams every last piece of the Offspring puzzle -- slickly produced rock racket, hints of anti-establishment rabble-rousing, and reams of relationship and strip mall culture gaggery -- into its brief half-hour run time.

His authoritative vocals demand immediate attention and his brutal array of battle rhymes are utterly breathtaking.... While the pugilistic MC shows growth as an artist, Canibus' vast potential remains largely unrealized thanks to bland production.

The new Puppets are a surprisingly heavy, hard-rocking outfit, turning in one of the loudest records in the group's catalog. It's also one of the best-produced, boasting a thick, full, shiny sound.

Peace & Love remains something of a mood piece--it’s ruminative, not rousing, never succumbing to navel-gazing but not suited for large crowds--which does mean it doesn’t quite have the undeniable power of How to Walk Away, but when a softly melancholy mood strikes, this provides comforting consolation.

This weird and often wonderful ride broadens the scope, painting Desiigner as a much darker rapper with his hallucinatory music just skirting on the surface of a bad trip.

The trio has crafted a record that measures up to My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy musically and delivers enough emotional charge to power a small town for a month.

Bedingfield plays it exceptionally safe, to the extent that she even tones down the self-empowerment of her first two records, preferring pristine blue-eyed soul and adult contemporary ballads, all tailored for an aspirational upscale lifestyle.