World Wide Pop is flat and uninspired, overdone and undercooked, and filled with dubious choices.

Even if the newly formed Canadian quartet is still searching for its individuality, when Suuns' strengths come together--as they often do on Zeroes QC--the mix of sparse beats, razor-wire guitar, and downer melodies can be compelling.

Mixed results notwithstanding, This Is Not a Safe Place is further proof that these four musicians belong beside one another. They won't make the long-list for the Patrick Fitzgerald Shoegaze Poet Award, but they still create quite a sighing racket.

It not only re-establishes him as a pioneer, but as an engaging personae who isn't hiding behind his sonic palette anymore; his music is all the better for it.

A winsome and not entirely stable treat.

An even rougher, uglier, and just plain heavier Hull.

If a touch weightier in tone, the album returns a distinctive palette and home-recorded finish to a heavy-heartedness firmly established on 2014's Picture You Staring, so fans and sentimentalists may take heart.

Besides continuing a trend toward more structured and, at least relatively speaking, more subdued material, it also sees Hernandez step back as frontman for their most democratic effort yet.

The Orchard doesn't go down as easily as The Rhumb Line did, even though it still has some satisfying moments.

When you want to hear something nice and don't want to be overly engaged or challenged, Within and Without will satisfy your needs in that regard, and only those looking for memorable songs or fresh sounds will feel let down.

With all its clean-cut melodies and smirky introspection, even Death Cab fans might have a hard time finding Former Lives more than a collection of melancholy, whimsical tunes.

It spans decades and styles but it's held together by Tarantino's vision, not unlike the film itself.

Sonder is a logical next step for TesseracT, one that stands on par with anything they've previously released, yet evidences more authority, musical restlessness, and sonic multi-dimensionality than anything in their previous catalog.

There's no emo bloodletting, no expressionist confrontations with death, just exaggerated adolescent anthems and calls to rebellion, just enough drama so this could be called cathartic by a certain generation, but for most listeners it's crystallized fun, the purest rush My Chemical Romance has ever delivered.

While Deap Lips lose some of the raw immediacy of Deap Vally and don't ascend to the songwriting heights of Flaming Lips, they create a mood of their own that pulls only a little from each group. Required listening for anyone already invested in either band and a wild, enjoyable listen for even the uninitiated.

MG is an intriguing diversion that might appeal to Depeche Mode fans who were put off by the pure, minimalist techno of VCMG, and it could also come as a surprise to listeners who aren't DM fans, or haven't kept up with their later work.

Concerned at least as much with timbre as with rhythm, structure, or emotional tone--and none of these is neglected here--the composite is perpetually stimulating, exploiting repetition and expectation, both in time and texture. Album structure is carefully considered as well, with the drums vanishing for the final two tracks.

Compared to the floating ambition of Emotion & Commotion, this album feels invigorating and suggests how Beck doesn't want to rest on his laurels, even if he's not fully committed to embrace the turmoil of the present.

This combining of the human-organic and the quirky-mechanical not only rewards repeat listens, but ultimately fascinates with warm alienation.

Representing the more countrified side of things, lead single "Imogene" and the warmly sentimental "The Vow" show some of Branan's other sides on this diverse and well-crafted collection.

Fans of 2019's Happy to Be Here will be glad to know that the project's sound is tweaked, not redefined, with Lindsay making her vocals more distinguishable from plushy surroundings without compromising their wispy, daydreamy qualities.

At times it almost feels like an alternate-history tendril of pre-Kid A Radiohead that kept its groove going into the coming decades. While those layered textures, pulsing beats, and unfolding guitar loops are fine, it's EOB as a reflective acoustic singer/songwriter that provides Earth's most authentic moments.

These ventures into pure '80s shred go a long way to illustrating just how versatile a guitarist Brad Paisley is, and they wind up as accidental autobiography, revealing a side he's previously camouflaged--but now that it's surfaced, it's easy to see why his albums are always among the most adventurous and best country music of this decade.

The album isn't going to send chills down spines or invoke great gusts of adulation, but a couple listens will be enough to firmly establish Melted Toys as a go-to relaxation and/or meditation aid for the discerning indie pop maven.

Still buried neck deep in love for Flying Nun, still snappy and poppy, but just a little bit weirder, a little more powerful musically and emotionally, and a little more satisfying for the incremental change.

The album holds together sonically like it was bonded by super glue, yet there's enough variation between the tracks to make Manifest! a very enriching listen that takes listeners to the middle of an excitingly sweaty dancefloor, keeps them company on the long cab ride home, and soothes them on the quiet morning after.

A lounge lizard's idea of heaven.

At times, Blueberry Boat sounds like it was made entirely out of the noodly bits that most other bands would junk for being too weird and difficult, but the Fiery Furnaces forge them into an album that's both more pop and more radical than Gallowsbird's Bark.