The tension and unease conveyed in BBF's earlier output is present here and is magnified by Sheppard, who comes across as an anxious bohemian drifting and acquiring wisdom through a nocturnal and aimless existence.

If this is Brent's album, existing for comedic reasons purely to accompany the film, then it fulfills its purpose. However, taken at face value, it's nothing more than a mish-mash of classic rock tropes and controversial lyrics.

The tempo would benefit from being quickened at times, as one track blurs into another, and given the range of styles and instrumentation you would hope for a more multicolored experience. But Digging a Tunnel remains a fascinating collage that suggests Wästberg has the imagination and ability to build on these worthy foundations in the future.

Though much of the record lies in a blander space somewhere in between, intimacy definitely takes a hit with Ultralife's expanded production, while its more radiant, rousing demeanor is likely to play well to larger venues and those seeking sunnier, or at least partly cloudy atmosphere.

Hurts have never shied away from grandiose musical gestures, something fans of their deeply emotive live shows and theatrical videos can attest to. With Desire, they've found a way to capture that amorous pop intensity and send it flooding back toward their audience.

Even outside of the film's context, Deacon's score is fascinating, brilliantly showcasing his skill at crafting experimental yet reflective sounds.

These old-fashioned album rockers are so loud and awkward, they overshadow the excellent singer/songwriter album that lurks at the core of I Knew You When. Such imbalance makes I Knew You When a bit incoherent, yet in its quietest and angriest moments, it offers some of the best music Seger has made in the 21st century.

As odd Neil Young albums go, Paradox doesn't hold a candle to Americana or A Letter Home, but this could have been trimmed down to an EP and it would have worked better. Fans will want to give it a listen, but they might not pull it off the shelf again for a while.

Godfather II isn't bad, but coming after a career highlight, it's quite disappointing.

Juice WRLD is wrecked, angry, and using drugs to cope, and even though his appeals come through at times, much of Death Race for Love transforms the listener into the shoulder that Juice WRLD is crying on.

Although it elevates the value of the underrated and divisive Stay Together and houses a handful of strong earworms, Duck ranks as one of Kaiser Chiefs' weaker overall efforts.

Often, his good cheer comes across as corny, a situation accentuated by the big, bright surfaces -- it's the work of pros who are working at home, seeking only to please themselves. As the spirits are sunny and the songs tuneful, it's hard not to find What's My Name ingratiating, even though much of the album is so good-intentioned, it's silly.

Detour de Force is a thoughtfully constructed album with songs that reveal the group's continued knack for balancing intimate, often humorous personal sentiments with more anthemic feel-good moments.

Throughout it all, Carlos Santana plays vibrant, vigorous guitar and he sounds as engaged playing with Corey Glover or Kirk Hammett as he does a posthumous Chick Corea. That these diverse strands don't quite get threaded together is OK: as a collection of moments, Blessings and Miracles does the job.

If Jude lacks in immediacy, such melodic tunes as "Not One Night" suggests this is intentional: Lennon has traded direct pop for an elliptical route that suits his skin.

Jon does sound more robust than he did on, say, 2020. It's also true that Bon Jovi isn't making music that would push their singer to his limits. Forever is filled with ballads and midtempo anthems that would sound bigger on an adult contemporary station than an arena. The subdued nature is accentuated by Bon Jovi's proud embrace of nostalgia.

Dreamland may have been the album that made Glass Animals big, but song for song, I Love You So F***ing Much's thoughtful, anxious pop might be more rewarding.

While Quicken the Heart isn't bad, its slide into the nondescript is certainly disappointing.

Overall, the album is more competent than distinctive; maybe next time, the 22-20s will show more depth and personality.

Sometimes befuddling but never boring, Rainbow Arabia is making music that ultimately sounds like no one else's.

Even when things get silly on We Can Do Anything, the silliness blows on by, headed toward a bit of revved-up folk or unexpected introspection, and those twists are what makes the album worth hearing.

If the songs on PlectrumElectrum don't stick the way those on Art Official Age do, it's nevertheless a quiet thrill to hear Prince spar with worthy partners, as he does throughout this record.

If your heart is shattered and you want to slide into self-pity, turn here. If you are feeling free and want to woo a new love, turn here. If you want to just enjoy every soft, supple turn a rock band could do, turn here. Coldplay are here for comfort, as Ghost Stories proves time and time again.

Catchy and upbeat, these are the poppiest offerings on an album that otherwise is content with patience, comfort, and peace.

While this is a fine, if uneven album, the only way to enjoy a significant portion of it is by taking it as pure entertainment.

Walk It Off is hardly a disaster, but it is a strange, lopsided album--despite its focus, it just doesn't play to Tapes 'n Tapes strengths as much as it should have.

The best track on 7th Symphony is "2010," which features a guest performance by Slayer drummer Dave Lombardo, who drives the music ferociously, a speeding train straight into hell. But too often, using cellos to play metal riffs (as on "Bring Them to Light," which features vocalist Joseph Duplantier of French avant-metallers Gojira) just winds up making the album sound like "A String Tribute To [Insert Metal Band Here]," and not in the cool, rethinking-the-material way that earlier Apocalyptica releases did.

Occasional resemblances to Drake and the-Dream are as blatant as the Isley Brothers and Michael Jackson exercises of Write Me Back. The similarities are so obvious that it's tough to discern if Kelly is acknowledging his younger followers, aiming to beat them at their game, or both.