Strangers to Ourselves is an album where the trees matter more than the forest: song for song, it demonstrates the exacting nature of Brock but put it all together, it sprawls.

Houndmouth have the right touch and impressive chops, but this album makes it clear they needs a songwriter who can make their music seem fresh even as it's modeled on the past.

If there's a scattershot quality to Always and Forever, that seems partially due to the band just dumping a decade's worth of ideas. Either way, it's their liveliest record and possibly their most interesting to boot.

The aptly named Run never really finds its mark, as it too often charges brazenly into the ether and is gone forever.

All the new songs find Bryan looking back over his shoulder at all the fun he's had over the years. Even when the songs get a little funky, as they do on the descending blues riff of the title track, there's a slight melancholic tinge

Where My Weekly Reader shines is on the quieter moments.

Add the way "Roadblox" provides the cinematic side of Prodigy that's often overlooked and the album seems a triumph, but lead single "Nasty" is a lesser "Firestarter" and at 14 cuts, this chunky effort is built for returning fan club members and not the EP-craving EDM crowd.

Listeners looking for something in the realm The 1975, Emarosa, I Prevail or, to a lesser extent, a darker Sleeping With Sirens, will find a lot to be excited about here, but anybody looking for something that pushes the post-hardcore envelope a bit will probably find themselves wishing that they had walked into a different Hot Topic.

Semi Detached is sincere in its distrust, distaste, and ire, and by the time "Bloody Hell Fire" underlines it all as a dour closer, the album winds up a worthy companion for bad days or chucking it all.

So, a mixed bag: good enough to satisfy and also to wish the whole thing was slightly better.

The Björk-based art piece works better when consumed as album number two.

While, depending on perspective, the album's a bit shallow on dignity, it goes a long way on atmosphere and seductive, despairing style.

No Pier Pressure seems genuinely weird, as it's perilously perched between the best and worst of Wilson's pop talent and Thomas' showbiz instincts.

Admittedly, these are also slower-burning compositions that lack the hooks and pop immediacy of much of Villagers' previous work. Ultimately, however, the pulling back feels intentional and fitting for an album of songs that always seem born out of O'Brien's most personal experiences.

While the snap into tightly focused and sometimes more fiery songwriting is remarkable, the songs aren't as across-the-board strong as they'd need to be to make the entire album as remarkable as the shift it represents.

Rundle, Burns, and Clinco are all strong musicians and it's usually their intricate post-rock pedigree that helps to pull them back into the present, making Salome a step in the right direction for them.

Driver feels composed more than written, not in a way that elevates or alienates, but rather one that draws the ear to each presence in a landscape that shifts, unfolds, and surrounds; a quietly intense ride and mix recommended for headphone listening.

Just as his Def Jam-era album tracks often outshined the singles, Nash is in top form here when he forgets about hitmaking, drops his guard, and produces gems that are scenes as much as they are songs.

Ask a Yelawolf regular for a listener's guide then split apart this purposeful beast accordingly.

The Waterfall suggests maybe My Morning Jacket would be better off doing a few things well rather than losing their way down several different paths.

This is a record for longtime fans: it not only evokes warm memories, but it speaks to the band's present.

The album flows easier than Drift and Home, yet it somehow comes off as comparatively fragmentary, with 15 tracks playing out in just over half an hour.

Surfer Blood have regained their freedom with 1000 Palms; next time, they need to do something interesting with it.

The input of all three musicians can be heard from front to back, through swirling layers of ever-shifting sounds and trance-inducing sequences that escalate, expansive and borderline theatrical, with shifts between light and heavy that occur gradually more often than abruptly.

For the most part, Ours Is Chrome sounds like it arrived pristine via a tramp-stamped, nicotine-stained, Puget Sound time capsule.

Like its predecessor, Who Me? is a showcase for Wauters' quirky, likeable personality, and balances introspective lyrics with laid-back instrumentation.

By showcasing the two sides of DeLonge's musical personality, To the Stars does feel like a solo album but it also does feel a bit like a warehouse--a way to clear the decks as he preps for the next great project.

It's music to put on when things are getting just a little bit too hectic but you'd never dream of running away from your problems. Music for a suburban weekend, in other words.