While Kiwanuka is extremely talented, his songwriting needs work; some tunes are weighed down by clunky melodic or clumsy lyric turns.

Even if there's nothing inherently new about the band's take on rock, and at times they seem too comfortable coasting on trends from the mid-2000s, Delta Spirit manage to convey a likeable sound that is strong and intimate at the same time.

Happy to You is an album that aims for commercial appeal, so there is a noticeable push and pull between prescribed pop and the eclectic electro that the team is known for, but the songs that land in the dead center have a nice even balance.

The Static Jacks retain much of the energy of punk, and a bit of the attitude, but their sound has a more polished pop tone to it.

Not only are the songs so perfectly patched that it's hard to tell they were ever fractured, but in the age of Pro-Tools editing, they seem like relatively standard pop songs.

While it's true this album often feels like the listener is being asked to endure a personal confession without redemption as a reward that is also part of its hopefully deliberate, perverse charm.

Written while Jason Pierce was on tour performing Ladies and Gentlemen...We Are Floating in Space in its entirety, Spiritualized's seventh full-length echoes not only that album, but Songs in A & E and Amazing Grace.

Even in their best moments, every move feels overly calculated and wraps up so nicely that even what are intended as unpredictable turns are pretty predictable.

There are some missteps and some rookie mistakes here, but ultimately, the collaged beats and convergences of found sounds stumble onto brilliance more often than they fall to the wayside.

Noctourniquet highlights the more intellectual, esoteric sound the band has championed over the years, but even though the album soars creatively, it feels emotionally restrained.

It's not as glossy as the '80s, there are fewer keyboards and more guitars-the sensibility remains the same, so Tuskegee generates a bit of déjà vu: the surroundings are new, yet everything feels familiar.

Their breed of futuristic pop is more polished than ever, and loses some of its edge with that increased emulsion.

Cut the iffy pop off these 19 tracks and you're left with Roman's true four-star empire, but as it is, Roman Reloaded is a frustrating mix of significant and skippable.

New Wild Everywhere may not bring anything new to the table, but what It does bring, as is the case with the best comfort food, has been honed to perfection.

Changed marches to a deliberate beat, the tempos shifting only slightly when things get either insistent or gentle, the group layering its harmonies heavily on both the soft and loud numbers, giving every cut a candied gloss.

There's a roving chaos to the disc, not completely divorced from the springy shifts of his other band, but definitely a different animal.

Royal Baths' singing and playing have grown significantly since their debut.

"Boat Trip" is the album's strongest moment, a gently treading meeting of spacy Fleet Foxes-style harmonies and buried aquatic melodies cribbed from post-SMiLE-era Brian Wilson mania.

Older Than My Old Man Now contains some excellent work when Wainwright's not putting on false bravado or bullshitting, but ultimately, this is for his hardcore fans rather than casual ones.

Songs are built with obvious hooks and structure, and are lyrically intimate, keeping them in line with the slick electro flavor and emo sentiments of Miike Snow and VHS or Beta.

For all its heart, though, Underwater Sunshine still lacks the unborrowed inspiration necessary to come out of the gates as a stand-alone record.

When compared to the Revenue Retrievin' onslaught, which was sorted into thematic sets (Day, Night, etc.), these unwieldy Block Brochures come off as a hyphy data dump, leaving all executive production up to the listener.

Though there's no arguing the strength of her vocals on Long Distance, comparing these takes with the originals casts greater light on what she's lost rather than what she's gained in her stylistic transition.

While it may lack the dark, muscular, apocalyptic machismo that permeates the majority of metal's subgenres, it's more often than not a hell of a lot of fun.

Perhaps it is a bit stuffy and hidebound for art rock, but taken as a theatrical production, it's adventurously cerebral, an album to ponder if not quite embrace.

Here We Go Magic move between more full-on hyperactivity in that vein from songs like "Make Up Your Mind" and "I Believe in Action" to the easier-going grooves of "Alone But Moving," but too often they don't do much with that.

Its sly, delicately textured rewards are ones to appreciate and ponder, not to cherish.

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