Liima still recognizably sounds like Efterklang, but it seems like there's less pressure for them to construct a monumental statement here, and the group seem to enjoy their freedom.

As it stands, Metal Resistance is still worth hearing, if only for the half of the record that captures the insanely silly balancing act that their debut managed so well.

There's something admirable about the album's solemnity: the Lumineers are on a quest to be taken seriously, and even if they overplay their hand, the earnestness is ingratiating.

PersonA finds the group still offering music-festival-friendly fare, but of a nature that's more jammy than jamboree.

It's heavy stuff, but it's delivered with the humility of someone who has enough road behind him now that the rear-view mirror is no longer a window into the past, but a seconds-old snapshot of the present.

English Heart is a great concept, and for the most part the execution works, but one can't help but wish it had been recorded in the '70s or '80s, when Ronnie's voice was strong enough to make the most of the material.

It Kindly Stopped for Me is no easy listen, and its mostly mumbled outpourings don't leap out of the speakers, but it is intensely honest, which is something we don't hear often enough.

It may be an intentional shift, but the soulful resonance of 2012's The End of That has given way to an artful experimentalism that, while musically impressive, doesn't make as big an impact. Still, it's an ambitious near miss from a very good band that has proven it can be both cerebral and heartfelt.

Apart from the relatively lively pulse of the aching "Another One," everything plays out at slow-jam tempo, and the vocals often slip into falsetto mode with lapses in enunciation. The duo is at their most effective on finale "The Line," a bare, subtly churchified pleader.

I Long to See You is well worth investigating even if, at times, it is overly tentative.

They may lack the immediacy of some of their more envelope-pushing contemporaries, but as sonic world-builders they excel, and certainly possess the acumen to expand those horizons on future outings.

Anohni's targets deserve all the fury she unleashes upon them, but that doesn't make this any easier to engage with, even if you agree with what Anohni has to say.

The ambition on this first part of Prayers for the Damned is admirable. Better still, they often manage to take this roiling outrage and shape it into something melodramatically satisfying, an achievement that suggests why Sixx had no trouble saying goodbye to Mötley Crüe.

On a track-by-track level, Detour has a few stumbles--the biggest is "Night Life," and that's due to the gravelly growl of Willie Nelson, not Lauper--and if it's taken as a collection of performances and not a coherent record, it's fun.

Even if it isn't as dynamic as its predecessor, at the very least Ullages reflects that Eagulls can do more than rant.

As with the first volume of Electronica, the second is commendable for its scope and its attempt to bridge several generations of electronic music, but as a listening experience, it requires a fair amount of cherry-picking.

Nothing had every element in place to make Guilty of Everything very close to brilliant, a modern shoegaze/noise rock classic; on Tired of Tomorrow, they seem to have lost their way and have made something quite standard issue and disappointing.

One hears the core of a great band on I Hear You, but if Arbor Labor Union want to make a great record, they're going to have to find a way to make these songs go somewhere rather than letting them wander in a circle, though they at least sound like they're having a good time staying in place.

The Machine Stops sounds like Hawkwind--a diluted version of what they sounded like at their peak, to be sure, but still Hawkwind, as eccentric and individual as ever.

This is a record that attempts to unfold but remains grounded within its own humble limitations.

A Giant Dog aren't necessarily offering anything that hasn't been done before, but Pile is definitely a fun listen with enough bright spots and kinetic energy to sustain it.

Like Bringing Back the Sunshine before it, If I'm Honest is at its core a balladeer's record, and Shelton pulls off these romance tunes with a sly, masculine grace that complements the album's sleek modern surfaces.

Catfish & the Bottlemen hit their marks dutifully, rushing through their melodies but never taking it so quick that the singsong tunes don't stick, slowing down the tempo for needed breathers and ending the whole shebang with "Outside," an extended number designed to ratchet up expectations prior to the obligatory encore.

Ultimately, it's this guitar interplay that's the attribute of Pierced Arrow. Some of the songs stick out--particularly, Stills' two attempts at social commentary, "Virtual World" and "Mr. Policeman," both of which would've fit on a CSN LP -- but this is a record about instrumental interplay, not about songs.

Fans of the ever-prolific artist might enjoy it simply because it is unmistakably a Mark Kozelek album, but his dry, straightforward readings won't do anything to convince listeners who don't share the same sentiments for these tunes.

Most of the time, Basses Loaded is more interesting in concept than it is satisfying in execution, though the best moments suggest that future full-length collaborations with McDonald or Dunn would be worth exploring.

Appointed with lush strings, horns, and a host of backup singers, the songs are well-arranged and impeccably sung, but it's hard not to want Jury to expand his range somewhat.

For now, this album is a very bland, quite anonymous-sounding disappointment.