The sad country warmth of "Play the Game" and the starkly fingerpicked front half of "Soon" are soothing in their implied heartache, inviting listeners to lean in and try to untangle McMahon's lyrics through her downcast mumbling. Sadly, those same mumbled vocals sometimes become a hindrance during the slower sections of the album, distracting from the otherwise well-written songs. Still, delivery affectations aside, Salt serves as a solid introduction to this sensitive and engaging artist.

Para Mi renders some of the best elements of his songwriting into more accessible forms. Removing the layers of fuzz leaves Cuco's multi-colored songwriting in clear view, revealing an artist still finding his way. This can make for moments of awkwardness, but it also brings his endearing vulnerabilities to the forefront.

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.

Immunity is nothing if not consistent in providing Clairo's confessional lyrics and seemingly thematically detached vocals with a cushiony-soft landing. What she loses here in charm, she makes up for in lyrical depth and an enveloping sense of comfort, if drowsy melodies tend to waft by rather than stick around.

Nothing is as distinctive as past delights like "I Will Come Back," "Wait & See," and "Okay," but it's all sturdy and even-keeled, programmed for start-to-finish listening.

The quick changes can be jarring, but by the middle of Aokohio, the staggered flow begins to normalize and the album becomes an environment of short attention spans and choppy reflections. Rather than the sometimes-crushing statements of earlier albums, the weight of Wolf's heavy lyrics is softened by how quickly one idea blurs into the next.

Mixed results notwithstanding, This Is Not a Safe Place is further proof that these four musicians belong beside one another. They won't make the long-list for the Patrick Fitzgerald Shoegaze Poet Award, but they still create quite a sighing racket.

ICONOLOGY is a good placeholder while fans wait for the next chapter of Elliott's brilliance, but overall seems truncated and undercooked.

They fare better as a dancey new wave party band than they did emulating Joy Division on their album before this, but for all its energy and drive, Spirit World is light on truly striking songs.

The band have never made music that's sounded so modern and disconcertingly eager to please. It's a sea change that's hard to swallow, and despite the presence of some decent tracks, Wallop is the band's weakest album to date.

While lyrics stick better than hooks here, the album is not without a handful of low-key anthems (including the latter track's high-flying, Auto-Tuned "it's gonna be okay"), and the atmosphere manages to be consistently warm and inviting despite its mechanical veneer.

As a Belle & Sebastian album, Days Of The Bagold Summer may be a bit slight, but as a soundtrack it is considerably more cohesive and alluring than Storytelling, all due to the group's increased mastery of texture and feel.

Although Robertson's delivery often veers toward the hammy -- he relishes the B-movie gangsters on "Shanghai Blues" and hisses out “hardwired for sex” as if was a snake lying in the grass -- there are pleasures to be had in this upscale affair.

The musicians find a common ground within the eerie mysteries of old folk tunes and turn those strange sounds into something reassuring, if not quite comforting.

Spirit Counsel is an ambitious but focused masterwork of Moore's expansive and specific approach to experimental instrumental music.

When it's good and the band comes across as confident and focused, it feels like they made the right choice to head off into the pillowy dreamland. Other times, when a duff synth sound or a tinny drum machine lets them down, it's hard not to miss the traditional Moon Duo approach.

The record gets better when the sci-fi murk lifts and a song comes into focus, which happens more often on the second half, when Simpson relaxes enough to offer up a bit of good ZZ Top funk ("Best Clockmaker on Mars") and a blues shuffle ("Mercury in Retrograde"). But songs aren't the point of Sound & Fury. As the title makes plain, it's all about the sound and fury, noise that grabs hard and eventually softens its grip.

Love & Evol is an uneven whole. Some of it sounds more tinkered with, more assembled than played. While there is plenty of imagination woven into these tracks, one wishes for more organic cohesion between the set's independent halves.

Similarly to how grungy Gen-Xers both co-opted and rejected the music and aesthetics of their boomer parents, on Emerald Classics Swim Deep conversely embrace and slough off the remaining dust of '90s Brit-pop nostalgia. They may have been inspired by the music that was at its peak around the time they were born, but they aren't going to drown in its wake.

Starcrawler seem less like they want to lead you astray and more like they're acting out in hopes of getting their parents' attention, which isn't always good for these songs. But the music on Devour You is just raw and sweaty enough to conjure up some forgotten after-school special about falling in with the wrong crowd, and if that isn't hitting a bull's-eye for them, it's at least somewhere on the target.

It all adds up to a solid record, one that will surely appeal to Crowes fans who have no patience for Deadhead flourishes, but one that could use a little bit of flair on the edges.

Aside from a few monochromatic shades, there's not a lot of variance here and each track arrives at its four- or five-minute terminus at roughly the same languorous pace. For a project based on amorous and sensual pleasures, Cigarettes After Sex feels a little too one-dimensional.

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.

The tracks do an excellent job at establishing a mood, but a lot of them don't particularly go anywhere. Leaving meaning. is a decent album, but ultimately it sounds like a sort of reset or palate cleanser that will hopefully lead up to something greater.

A sleepier song like "Blue Spring," which features pedal steel and sparse, strummed guitar, only provides contrast within a very narrow range of expression here, like when eyes adjust to dim nocturnal lighting, then notice the shadow of a stray moth.

As elegant as they are, the melodies don't easily lodge in the subconscious, but the bigger problem is that the production -- by Lynne, who plays virtually every note on the record -- is airless and precise. This dryness is a remnant of the digital age, where every element in a recording is exactly in the right place, and if it's not quite a drawback, it does mean From out of Nowhere can be a bit of an uncanny valley: it's close enough to a genuine item to satisfy, yet different enough to disarm.

Altogether is perhaps the lightest and most pop-oriented release in the band's canon, doubling down on bright guitar tones and jazzy chord voicings, and relying even more heavily on lush synth parts to augment their sound. While its feather-soft tone flirts with the smooth banality of easy listening, parts of the album are far more clever and well-structured than first impressions might suggest.

Stitched together as it is, One of the Best Yet is a priceless benefaction. Premier was no doubt compelled to see it through for himself and the memory of his deteriorated union with Guru. That regard for the Gang Starr legacy is felt throughout the set, a gratifying listen for anyone who can get past Guru's incapacity to authorize it.