The Coincidentalist is one of Gelb's most realized efforts; despite its relaxed, airy presentation, it's musically and lyrically provocative, as poetic, strange, and mysterious as the desert itself.

The songs themselves are easy to approach if difficult to decipher, and the production details reward repeated listens.

This is still a Dr. Dog album and it's bound to put a smile on your face. These guys have a real knack for making classic-sounding rock & roll and Shame, Shame is the sound of a fine band really hitting its stride.

An extended pilgrimage to New Orleans allowed the longtime friends to hone the 11 songs that make up Through Low Light and Trees into something truly magical, and while the album is clearly the product of the green fields and misty mountains of their homeland, it's obvious that the time spent in the Big Easy had a profound effect on them.

Contact is certainly a showcase for all the things the Noisettes can do well, but more focus would help define them as eclectic popsters instead of fickle ones.

On Big Sur, Frisell delivers an inspired musical portrayal of the land, sky, sea, and wildlife of the region with majesty, humor, and true sophistication.

Odds are strong that no like-titled album is as cold as this one.

The album's widescreen sound and bone-fracturing impact leave no doubt that Killing Joke are still deeply committed to what they do, and it's genuinely remarkable that they're still sounding this furious and effective 35 years after their debut album.

The Far Field isn't a failure or a misstep, since there are so many good songs and their basic sound is still so strong. It's a shame that the band and Congleton felt the need to pretty things up, to make them sound more sophisticated and domesticated. It means that despite Herring's bravura performance, the album feels like a watered-down and lesser version of Singles.

Endangered Philosophies is another triumphant, socially relevant album from the masters of industrial shoegaze hip-hop.

Expressing grief, angst, and uncertainty just as loudly with a croon as a scream is no easy task, but Death Lust archives it masterfully.

As a whole, there is plenty of growth, craft, and quality songwriting here even if the approach is more polite than it used to be.

While uneven, it's an album that sticks, both for its theatrical melodies and uncommon benevolence.

None of these parts seem to fit on paper, but on record it's a gas hearing a group of gangsters and pranksters giddy on their own good times.

While the energy level feels drastically different between the album's clubbier first half and its slower second, Friday's music is always dramatic, honest, and futuristic.

It's a concise debut album that, with the exception of a few tracks aided by either Biako or Andrew Lappin, McFerrin produced herself, and it also exhibits her range as a singer and lyricist.

It may not be the second -- or third to be more precise -- coming of Lush, but it's good to have Anderson back and making music as pretty, sweetly sad, and ultimately comforting as Pearlies.

A more consistently angsty, saturated sound results that's in harmony with lyrics about struggle, self-examination, and challenging life events on songs with titles like "Change," "Sink," and "Fall Came Too Soon and Now I Wanna Throw Up."

Everything Must Go pushes the group's creative boundaries while maintaining the relatable songcraft and inclusive vibes that have helped build Goose a loyal fan base.

Not too many other bands working this side of the guitar rock street are able to bundle together hooks and heart, noise, and melody quite as well as White Reaper do on Only Slightly Empty.

The only song that seems to come from nowhere is the album ending "Wham Boom Bang," a jolly little knees up full of clarinets, cute guitar licks, and a saucy vocal from Zander. The rest of the album is Cheap Trick through and through, every song a reminder of how their past achievements were truly special, while at the same time letting everyone know they are still cranking out songs with all the manic energy, gleeful abandon, and pure pop songcraft they've embraced from the start.

Here, as with most of her career, Harvey doesn't go for the easy choices.

A multi-faceted and especially curious collection of Lightning Bolt material, Sonic Citadel shows the band still growing and developing nearly a quarter century in.

Most of the songs on The Traveler pass muster, and a few are excellent, but it's Miller's interaction with Black Prairie that really makes the album work.

Hesitation Marks makes it quite clear that Trent Reznor is no longer an angry young man but rather a restless, inventive artist who is at peace with himself, and the result is a record that provides real, lasting nourishment.

lthough the arrangements and material are monochromatic, What Matters Most isn't a failure by any means, thanks to Barbra Streisand's interpretive skills (as well as her flair for drama and her ever-beautiful voice). That said, this is not a record for those who love precocious Streisand best (Funny Girl, Hello, Dolly!).

Sense of purpose gets eclipsed by sense of self on If There's a Hell Below, but Black Milk deserves to ride the vibe of his previous work more than most. Consider this a returning fan's album, and then go about becoming one.

Everything is streamlined and stitched together with consummate finesse by producer Jay Joyce. None of this good-time, borderline silly music is going to earn the band any critical hosannas and anyone who had hopes that the group would ditch this sound and go back to howling garage punk is going to feel let down. That being said, people who don't take their music too seriously might find that You Deserve Love is just the kind of record to put on when some mood elevation is required.