Even after a decade away, Atari Teenage Riot are still equally angry and entertaining, and Is This Hyperreal? just may be one of their definitive statements.

Feel. Love. Thinking. Of. is a decent enough album as a whole that sometimes falters but features fine moments of brilliance when the Batke brothers filter out their cheesier influences.

High on Jackson Hill doesn't quite trump "Fables" the way that album outclassed its precursor, but it's hardly accurate to call this a disappointment.

Islands is by no means a bad record. It's pleasant but it's unnecessary, and in an era of so many bands and so many releases, that's just not good enough.

Names like Just Blaze, Lee Majors, Cardiak, and No Credit supply the beats for this more mature/still flashy release, all of it adding up to Wale's win number three.

Ceremony have a strong handle on this style [Ian Curtis'], and after nearly a decade together, these new clothes fit them quite well.

Flaws aside, IV is quite enjoyable--especially split over a couple of listens.

A Moment Apart is a further expansion of the ODESZA empire, and the duo's most ambitious, widescreen work yet.

This album isn't as brash or immediate as the band's earlier work, but its gradual move from alienation to connection and hope is just as bold as Silent Alarm, and possibly even more resonant.

A dazzling debut.

Those eight songs are noisy psychedelic pop at its best, however, on par with anything else treading a similar path.

Delta Machine, the band's 13th album, feeds off this negative energy and winds like a snake the whole time, slithering through a well-written (ten songs from Martin Gore with three coming from Gahan) and lusciously recorded set of serpentine siren songs.

It's the complementary nature of the bands' sentiments more than their sounds that makes Aureola successful.

2015's Find What You Love and Let It Kill You, is a return to the group's anthemic classic rock and '60s psych rock-influenced sound.

Ultimately, it's this guitar interplay that's the attribute of Pierced Arrow. Some of the songs stick out--particularly, Stills' two attempts at social commentary, "Virtual World" and "Mr. Policeman," both of which would've fit on a CSN LP -- but this is a record about instrumental interplay, not about songs.

Time Clocks slowly comes into focus after the short atmospheric instrumental "Pilgrimage" sets the stage for a moody, cinematic record.

As uneven as the album can be, it's never a simple rehash of Bloc Party's glory days. Adam Greenspan and Nick Launay's tight production gives Alpha Games a leaner attack than Silent Alarm, and while the moments of beauty that balance the band's outbursts are in shorter supply, they're all the sweeter when they appear.

Although the group's early period still packs in the most memorable moments, Night Light is a fine addition to their reliable late-era catalog that keeps it engaging, impeccably produced, and emotionally earnest.

They sound more focused than on any of their ten previous studio offerings. Certainly, what's here is not for everybody, but this jumpy, well-constructed little set may even get Phish fans excited.

The standout songs are great: the relentless bounce of "Did It First" with Central Cee is infectious in its fluidity, the sophomoric and slippery "Think U the Shit (Fart)" matches ridiculous lyrical brags with an undeniably funky instrumental, and "Gimme a Light" amps up a classic Sean Paul sample with a buzzing drill beat and Ice Spice's furious flow. The less substantial tracks blur together, even with help from other rap stars.

Overall, it's a darker and more uneven album than the debut, but notwithstanding a few oddities (three reprises, and Arrington de Dionyso's Gregorian throat singing, namely), it's a respectable follow-up.

Like Kid A's little brother, Manic Expressive pops and gurgles through spacey, multi-textured compositions.

Signals the welcome return of one of pop's finest groups.

The album simply powers its way through 16 tracks of seamlessly mixed high-velocity drum'n'bass.

The album's consistency easily outmatches even the highest watermarks of either predecessor.

They might not be hip, they're not as innovative as they used to be, but they still make very good, even great music, and that's evident on Revolverlution. If only it were presented better.

Marc Bianchi has, at least for now, chucked his dour Stephin Merritt leanings and adopted a more Nick Lowe-like free-spirited confidence and the whole thing sounds, if not exactly cathartic, at least liberating.

Some listeners may find this approach riotous, since the humor is pushed right toward the front, while many may miss how their original recordings blurred the lines between real rock and fantasy.