The Toronto trio is just a ball of heavy genres, lumping together noise rock, post-punk, hardcore, no wave, or any style that might punish a pair of eardrums.

For the majority of the other songs Lee Spielman runs the show, screeching street-sick lyrics about the crime-ridden area surrounding their Sacramento practice space.

There's nothing overtly bad about Beacon; it shows that Two Door Cinema Club still have a remarkable knack for winsome melodies and harmonies set to kinetic beats. It just doesn't have the spark that Tourist History had, even if it's a more accomplished album overall.

While it's a pleasant enough listen, the entire album falls short of the potential opulence hinted at by its best tracks.

Diluvia offers up a perfectly rendered snapshot of the cresting East Coast indie pop scene, conjuring up images of nomadic laptop studios, vintage bicycles, endless stacks of tattered Tor paperbacks, and heavily tattooed, non-smoking urbanites noshing on locally grown produce.

In some ways, The Connection is perhaps the band's most contemporary-sounding album, though it still remains reverent to the nu-metal sound of the late '90s when it comes down to the overall feel of each tune.

For enthusiasts or obsessive fans, this unpolished look in will be a treat, but for everyone else, the album is not without its highlights but little more than a glorified practice tape.

While it's odd that The Origin of Love doesn't work as well in practice as it might have in theory, it still has enough bright moments to please most fans.

With Monster, Kiss hit the mark best when rewriting the sound they developed as youngsters and when they keep it simple, predictable, and fun.

It's a sonic monument to marvel at, not a piece of art that's asking for your engagement.

Skynyrd are making sturdy, old-time rock & roll for an audience that's likely peppered with Tea Partiers, the kind of Middle American worried that the world they knew is slipping away, and Last of a Dyin' Breed provides a bit of a rallying point for them: it's true to their roots but living in the moment.

Union is a pleasant listen, but never quite reaches the anthemic heights the band is trying for.

The album is executed so well it can nevertheless suck you in against your will. It's big and bright, shameless in its attempt to win you over, and -- given increased exposure -- that eager-to-please nature winds up ingratiating whether you like it or not.

As it stands, its mix of tiny triumphs and incomplete ramblings will make all but Friedberger's most die-hard fans long for a Fiery Furnaces reunion.

Music from Another Dimension! is no worse than Nine Lives. It may lack a single as immediate as "Fallin' in Love (Is Hard on the Knees)"--or the subsequent "Jaded" from 2001's Just Push Play--but it faithfully follows Aerosmith's '90s blueprint, getting nothing wrong but never quite feeling right.

Musically, the production never veers from the glossy, by-the-numbers approach of mainstream pop.

Sirens perhaps works best when it's not totally in thrall to grunge and the band allow themselves to enter unchartered terrain.

There are points throughout these works where Tesfaye is distinctively gripping, supplying deadly hooks and somehow singing for his life despite the cold blood flowing through his veins.

18 Months shows Harris to be a solid producer with an easily identifiable sound.

Overall, Medicine is an enjoyable diversion.

It gets closer to the spirit and sound of what Hucknall loves.

For the most part, Silver & Gold stays true to Stevens' predilection for kitchen sink, lo-fi chamber pop, but he plays fast and loose with the formula.

Take the Crown features Robbie doing what Robbie does best--writing and performing effortless pop music--but not at his best.

Even though they don't quite have the fire that they used to, this more fully realized sound shouldn't have much trouble keeping their fans happy.

Artistically, she's still coming into her own.

She's best when playing it kinetic and in complete violation of good taste, so whittle this one down by half for the ultimate in bird-flipping, rave-rapping, and repercussion-free living.

O.N.I.F.C. lands somewhere between the growing pains of an artist forced to develop more quickly than he's ready to and material simply less inspired than the hungrier, more excited sounds that came before.