While it might take listeners a few spins to find the right head space for the album, once they get there, it's an easy place to get lost in.

House of Love are comfortable in their skin without being complacent, sounding happy, even grateful, to be writing and playing again, winding up with a record that stands alongside their '80s and '90s work quite nicely.

["Skillzone" is] one the few times the album offers a "punch in the gut." Everything else is more "hands in the air" and from every radio-friendly strain of wonky pop, giving the impression that The Ascent is a mixtape of Wiley features and not a proper album.

Throughout Ministry of Love, Gika and Leopold Ross try on lots of sounds and moods for size; not all of them fit, but enough do to make this a promising debut--and to suggest that they don't need to rely on gimmicks.

Cyclops Reap may be the best place for newcomers to start, but anyone who's been along for the ride since the beginning will be thrilled to hear Presley's (slight) progression.

OMD's Kraftwerk fixation at this late date is a retro-within-retro move that puzzles, so prepare to be jarred a bit before declaring this a welcome addition to the catalog.

The creative progression O'Brien exhibits here leaves no lingering questions of doubt whether he would succumb to the dreaded second album syndrome, and regardless of awards, wayland sees the Irishman at his best, both musically and lyrically.

It feels like a natural step, consequently expanding the margins of Malian roots music and rock and pop simultaneously.

Paramore is a veritable pop opera about a band reborn, phoenix-like from the ashes of a broken lineup, better and stronger than any previous incarnation.

Shaking the Habitual isn't as cohesive or accessible as Silent Shout, and after experiencing the whole thing, fans may not return to it often, but it's hard to deny that it's an often stunning work of art.

Time is a promising debut from a guy who understands that pop is sometimes better when it gets a little weird.

Rkives rounds up existing rarities--several B-sides and demos--and six unheard songs, plus a remix featuring Too $hort. That is the most radical shift in sound on Rkives but there are hints of the glitzy bombast of Blacklight scattered throughout the collection.

This is a solid debut, made by a band that arrives fully formed and has a great future.

Kinski still sound best when they're stretching out into longer, moodier pieces of cloudy rock. There are enough strong sections like that to keep Cosy Moments afloat, but fans might be turned off by the attempts at pop that don't quite hit the mark.

Easily his most focused and accessible work, Pretty Daze is the strongest so far in a chain of releases that seem to suggest there are even greater heights to be reached.

Daft Punk are such stellar, meticulous producers that they make any sound work, even superficially dated ones like spastic early-'80s electro/R&B ("Short Circuit") or faux-orchestral synthesizer baroque ("Veridis Quo").

The songs don't stand out as much themselves as they do blur into a wintery whole, creating an environment of subtle experimentation and daydream-like dynamics.

Throughout the album, whether he's coming off like a rootsy road dog or a post-Tin Pan Alley piano balladeer, Fullbright consistently displays a level of lyrical finesse that would be impressive in an artist with twice as many years behind him, which only bodes well for his future work.

Live at the Gluepot is a crucially important document for fans of New Zealand's fabled indie pop heyday, but anyone who likes good, heavily snarky rock & roll will appreciate this recording of Toy Love going out in a blaze of glory.

Ultimately, Heza is a nuanced work that flirts with the experimental, but always remains intimate, atmospheric, and endlessly listenable.

Cruise Your Illusion holds enough of the band's personality to keep them from being a '90s cover band, but at times, the weight of their ragged influences sits heavy enough on the songs to obscure their most original aspects.

While the band might be adjusting after a shake-up like losing a singer, they've still managed to create another riff-fest that, while not a throwback to their older sound, has them continuing down their current path without much trouble.

This is merely designed to please the diehards... if anybody else happens to like it or if it stumbles into a hit, that's merely a bonus.

As good as the by-the-books ballads and rocking country are, the moments when the façade slips a bit make this worth hearing as an album and not a collection of singles.

They simply deliver track after track of airtight, wide-eyed rock that digs its fingers into your soul for 40 minutes and does...not...let...go.

Throughout these songs, Taylor's lyrics and the grain in his voice reveal that, whatever truths there are in these songs, they come from antiquity, and the land itself, which is an extension of the divine.

The Angels are masters at sounding simultaneously cool as a block of ice and hot as hellfire, but the cunning pop melodies are the real key to this album's success.

The duo [are] at the top their game, effortlessly weaving the past into the future (and vice-versa) with undeniable skill and refreshing amounts of empathy.