Ufabulum rises out of the muddle of curious decisions on the several albums before it, offering a true-to-form Squarepusher experience more diverse and ornate than almost any before it.

All of it works, there's plenty of ambition with little over-reaching, and the most striking bits of the album are striking for unexpected reasons.

Though Body/Head reject the notion of definitive versions of their songs, No Waves might be the album that captures their spirit to its fullest. Equally taut and flowing, this is improvisation at its instinctive best.

Maybe the record could have been improved by splitting up the opening duo of songs, maybe a less fussy production job could have done the trick.

Like the title suggests, Warm Slime is gooey but curiously inviting stuff, and sinking into it might not be the safest way to pass the time, but it's a genuinely pleasurable experience.

Call Here Come the Bombs a transitional album, one where Gaz is trying out everything he always wanted to do within Supergrass but never could, and next time around he may be able to synthesize all these sounds.

She's turned in her most mature work and coincidentally some of her most enjoyable.

It's less glossy than either of its full-length predecessors... and in addition to a bit of grit there is a stronger rhythmic center to what is happening here as well.

So darkly delicious you have to admit it's their masterwork.

Vanity Is Forever maintains this same general feeling throughout its 12 songs, often feeling as if it's set in a coffee house on an easygoing ocean liner being filmed for a video in 1984.

These tougher remnants of the rootsy, down-home Up on the Ridge are enough to turn Home into a record that resonates longer and louder than Feel That Fire even when it shares much of the same radio-ready DNA.

hile it works well as a companion to Iradelphic, it's just as compelling in its own right.

Maybe lovers of '90s revival bands will find something to like here, but anyone who was into the records Wavves made before is out of luck.

Depersonalisation transforms their potential into a beautifully bummed-out fever dream of a debut.

It's as authentic a return as a fan could ask for, and works equally well as a final chapter in the band's story or a new one.

Perhaps the individual songs seem ephemeral when isolated on their own, but that's because Room 29 is constructed as a tone poem, a collection of songs, poetry, and incidental music that's designed to be a hyper-reality--an intersection of the glamorous past of Hollywood and our arch modern sensibility, and it succeeds gloriously at that.

The Order of Nature is a good showcase for the individual talents of Jim James and Teddy Abrams, but somehow the two halves don't always make an ideal fit, though all parties concerned certainly deserve a tip of the hat for ambition and audacity.

The Gaia II Space Corps may not be the fulfillment of Motorpsycho's dream, but for listeners it's a resplendent exercise in pure rock & roll pleasure.

Chemical Brothers have remained in the stadium house category for a decade-plus due to their immersive music and vivid light shows, but from the stale beats and lack of new ideas on display here, they'd do better going beatless or hiring a drummer.

Captures different shades and moods of the band's thus-far five-year career quite nicely.

Whatever the reason, Seen It All: The Autobiography shakes off all the challenges of Jeezy's lesser releases and finds new inspiration from the same old rap sheet.

An appealingly misshapen collection of classics, contemporaries, and originals.

It feels like half of an album by a band making sure their songs that fit the mold of what they've done before, and half of an album by a band using their major-label leverage to push their boundaries.

Khaos Legions shouldn't be dismissed as the result of creative burnout--there's plenty of scorching metal here, and fans will be very pleased.

A winning, if a little overly earnest, collection of millennial retro-pop that feels like a well-intentioned, if slightly awkward, high five.

Fourth Corner establishes Whitley as a sophisticated, mature songwriter and a passionate vocalist only beginning to realize her powers.

As it stands, this is a strangely seductive record, filled with remarkable musical peaks, and proof positive that an ambitious sophomore departure can be wholly satisfying.

[The Birds of Satan] deliver a batch of songs combining the muscular intellectualism of Queens of the Stone Age with the melodic passion of Foo Fighters.