If Kip's songs aren't as hook-heavy or as sticky as his idols, it is nevertheless admirable that he's completely revamped his sound so he doesn't feel like anybody else in contemporary country.

The commercial strides are obvious. The creative advancements are less apparent, obstructed by some unappealing measures, but they're in there.

Ones and Sixes is a brave effort that stands apart from much of Low's work, and there are certainly glimpses of their dour beauty on these 12 songs, but in the final analysis this is an album that fails more often than it triumphs.

Bookended by a pair of moody cuts replete with intoned prayers spoken in the background, Abandoned plays to the severity of the Catholic faith, and if Defeater's thematic tendencies have begun to wear a bit thin, they still manage to pack a pretty big punch on a musical level.

The instrumental interludes between tunes--the aimless meandering of "Muddy Dune," the squiggling "Ash Toke," and the squall of "Pincher"--are just long enough to distract and blunt the twisted, head-crushing impact of Kunk somewhat.

Kelly Jones and his crew know how to craft big music, knowing that often the atmosphere matters more than melody.

While parts of Too show FIDLAR trying to find their footing, it's all part of their evolution and is not without its charms.

Even making an allowance for Hook's glaring absence, Music Complete is still a watered-down and uninspired album by a band that lost the plot long ago and can now only capture an occasional glimmer of what made it so great in the first place.

Add a short runtime and You Disgust Me feels like an inflated EP of lost tracks and hidden heat, so marvel at their more crafted and conceptual albums, then come back here for a more free-form sampler of strange.

Repentless is a retro, workmanlike effort from a band determined to soldier on, and that's fine.

Underneath its aggressive opening and occasional woozy electronics, it is anchored by two or three songs (the exuberant "Fallinlove2nite," the recycled "This Could B Us," maybe the Graffiti Bridge throwback "Million $ Show") that wind up revealing how the rest of the record feels like little more than nimble calisthenics.

Hollywood Vampires is just a lark but it's a fun lark, and having fun is what matters in a party.

There's no disguising how Ryan Adams flips Taylor Swift's 1989 upside-down, turning a moment of triumph into bedsit introspection, a concept that is undoubtedly theoretically interesting, but the record works because Adams doesn't play this as a stunt.

Girl Band have similarly taken advantage of their expanded recording budget in order to craft their most bracing work yet.

While the occasional foray into the shallower end of the mainstream may divide some listeners, there's enough here to keep longtime followers satiated (and probably a little curious/nervous as to what the future holds) until the next ride.

This EP dazzles and then disappears before the sun comes up, leaving listeners with the exhilarating feeling of "wow," and the less-pleasing feeling of "what happened?"

If it's not the group's finest work, it has a genuine emotional purity and reaffirms Born Ruffians' place on the Canadian indie rock scene.

Uncovered feels slightly spare and quiet in comparison [to 1994's Cover Girl]--there are no productions as bright and full as that on "Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic"--but it follows the same basic formula as that album, with Colvin finding the quiet, intimate heart lying in each of these songs.

Beck isn't so much interested in resurrecting specific songs from his career as he is in revisiting particular styles and moods

The 21st century version of the Zombies are, not unexpectedly, a band with a different sound and feel than the '60s cult heroes, but Still Got That Hunger reminds us Rod Argent and Colin Blunstone still have the talent that made their names, and there are enough moments here where it shines through that fans will want to give this a thorough listen.

Keith went back to the tried and true, crafting songs that fall within his wheelhouse. At the edges, there are some signs of either experimentation or, perhaps, desperation.

It makes for a solid pop album overall, but it's a little too formulaic and predictable to rate among her best work.

At just under 30 minutes, it feels like a bit of a lark, but its brevity actually works in its favor, as an extended set of Haines' sneering incantations and electronic skullduggery would likely require a certain amount of intestinal fortitude.

For better or worse, that same sense of déjà vu pervades much of Sounds Good Feels Good, with the band borrowing liberally from its influences.

Not quite as catchy or harmony-rich as a few of their earliest songs, some of Little May's early adopters may be a little bummed out by the material, but many will find it hits a sweet spot between the heart and head in which to snugly settle.

The brass in question swells and sways capably throughout, but ultimately feels like window-dressing, never fully delivering the arm hair-raising crescendo that one would expect from an army of cornets, trombones, and euphoniums, though this is mostly the fault of the source material, which ultimately lacks the structural boldness with which to support such finery.

This is surf music for street goths and beach bums with bad attitudes.

A bumpy, oddly compelling restart, Purpose should hook open-minded pop fans who previously paid him no mind, and it could even win back some of those who wrote Bieber off years ago.