This results in an album where the melancholy is bittersweet, not all consuming, which means Thank You For Today is softly reassuring even when its intent is lightly barbed.

It's not a perfect record, but noteworthy for its musical risk-taking and assertive attitude.

While this might mean that Jaded & Faded lacks the reckless energy of its precursor, it's ultimately a more adventurous and interesting album because of it, proving that Cerebral Ballzy are more than just a group of guys with a keen interest in hardcore.

It might not quite seem like what a Fantastic sequel should be -- in fact, it seems more like a sequel to its direct predecessor, 2004's Peachtree Road -- but that's hardly a bad thing.

Maybe he's no longer breaking new ground, but his eccentricities are now an attribute, not a curse, which goes a long way in making his trademark blend of funk, pop, soul, and rock sound nearly as dazzling as it did at his popular and creative peak in the '80s.

It might be Tussle's most subdued music to date, but it works equally well as a hypnotic wash of sound and as riveting close listening, especially late at night.

This is a strong body of work from the London-based group who have taken the best of '90s guitar music and made it their own.

At 40 minutes, this is easily Q's leanest LP. It would be meaner with the removal of the inane Travis Scott collaboration "CHopstix," the uncharacteristic single.

The Strokes indulge their every whim, and the results are their weakest album yet.

This variety is what makes The King of Nothing Hill so enjoyable -- it revels in being both fun and furious.

Like the best Indigo Girls work has, All That We Let In continually dwells on the dynamic of internal, emotional tumult and outward-looking, world-wondering fervor.

In Our Gun has all the elements that made their debut so great, and then some.

The songs are sharper, the production is layered, and the performances are as compassionate as ever, resulting in their finest album since Vitalogy.

Bloodflowers boasts all of the Cure's signatures: stately tempos, languid melodies, spacious arrangements, cavernous echoes, morose lyrics, keening vocals, long running times. If you want something transcendent, you're out of luck, since the album falls short of the mark, largely because it sounds too self-conscious.

A series of hard-rockin', tight tunes...

The Charlatans are taking risks again without losing their identity.

"Anything" sounds like the Cars on an extra-snotty day, while the glistening new wave chug of "Ways to Fake It" and "One Track Mind" feels like the work of a band that influenced the Strokes instead of one of its members. Moments like these are fun for listeners who share CRX's retro fixations, but more often than not, New Skin doesn't deliver on the band's pedigree.

It's been some time since Cheap Trick have made a record that was as howling-along enjoyable as this one. If you're looking for a great hard rock album for the summer of 2017, don't look now, but Cheap Trick have delivered the fast 'n' loud blast that you need.

At times, Intimacy feels rushed and predictable, and at others, it's almost painfully ambitious.

From front to back, the quality is so balanced that there are no obvious peaks or lulls, though the tracks that incorporate harp and harpsichord stick out a little more for their uniqueness relative to standard soul-funk revivalism.

MU.ZZ.LE sounds like outtakes from the last LP--that is, short underwater dub/downtempo emotronica cast-offs--except it is darker.

Ultimately, Need Your Light is an ambitious, thrilling album, full of songs that aim to grab your heart as well as your ears.

Blending experimental excursions and more straightforward synth pop throughout, Throws isn't challenging so much as eccentric, and overcomes a thread of grayness with a spirited fancifulness.

Familiar they may be, but some credit has to go to De Backer for managing to weave these eclectic retro sounds into a cohesive affair.

As opposed to the sometimes overwhelming whimsy of Black Moth Super Rainbow, admittedly conveyed more on record than on-stage, Maniac Meat is a glowering fuzzed-up sprawl.

Stripped down, punishing, and more aloof than the two previous albums, the lack of any unifying theme makes Scurrilous a less inclusive outing, though the quintet's penchant for crafting impossibly precise breakdowns, staccato leads, and unpredictable melodies is far from diminished.

Perhaps blink could stand to sharpen their words but it's better that they concentrated on their music, creating a fairly ridiculous yet mildly compelling prog-punk spin on the suburbs here.

Much of Reservoir feels like an exercise in fussy production techniques layered over material by an artist who holds plenty of promise, but hasn't quite found her voice.