The album is the sound of Penelope pushing back, deciding that the closing of motherhood is not the end of her life. She’s confident and resolute in spirit and vision. It’s art defined by ageing and it’s all the more powerful for it.

It’s a little loose, a little shaggy, and sometimes simply unimaginative or rote, but it also provides an intriguing glimpse into the archives of one our most beguiling artists.

This amorphousness was probably part of the intent, with Smith focusing on transformation; how anything in life can be moulded and re-shaped with a bit of determined focus. It’s a compelling idea, which shows itself in many marvellous flashes across The Mosaic of Transformation, but sometimes you wish it would just hold in place and let you admire and appreciate these moments for just a touch longer.

Brooks' explorations of these spaces between childhood whimsy and a vague, threatening sense of looming danger are always worthwhile excursions, and his latest album is no exception.

There is still plenty to cherish here, and no Ryan Adams devotee is going to feel disappointed. In reality, this is likely just another detour in the ever evolving and confusing career of Ryan Adams.

Sink into Me is possibly superior song-wise to Home for Now and at least equally cogent in terms of vocal performances. Going forward, however, Babeheaven might consider combining the matured skills of their latest work with the less self-conscious and more rangy aesthetic inherent to Home for Now.

This record does indeed feel like a natural continuation of Sadier's previous body of work.

For most of Valhalla Dancehall, the diversity in sound works to British Sea Power's advantage, but it also leaves the album feeling weirdly unsatisfying.

Pretty much every song on When You See Yourself manages to convey what the past few Kings of Leon albums missed. This is an at times muscular, at other times breezy collection of songs, recorded with care, removing bombast and occasionally returning to the rough live sound of their early days.

It’s sometimes refreshing to hear them lean into their minimalist instincts a little more this time around, but often there’s just a bit of weight missing from the bones.

The Mother Stone is a stroke of real promise. With its harrowing peaks of dramatized catharsis and musical excursions that recall rock greats – yet look deep into a dark and obscure abyss – Jones’ record keeps audiences at the edges of their seats. If he can be reeled in to gather his thoughts more concisely, the sky is the limit.

Panda Bear has enough talent to make one of his less-than-monumental works worth a listen. And although Sonic Boom sometimes overstuffs the record with unnecessary sounds, his chemistry with Panda Bear is natural. Perhaps next time they’ll leave the toy in the box, though.

They’re still just about playing the game the same way, but with Hologram the trio sounds a bit more chipper than usual, which adds some flair that was noticeably absent for most of their 2010s output.

sketchy. may not be their out-and-out best work, but it’s proof that they still have the guts and the songwriting ability — as well as their ever-present, obvious earnestness and candor — to do what endeared their work to so many in the first place.

Trust Now doesn't have the earnestness or perhaps shear quality of songwriting as Shadow Temple, and it feels a bit homogenized where its predecessor felt cohesive.

Tilt is the music they are dragging you onto the dancefloor for, and with most of these songs playing over the speakers, you’ll happily join them.

Tilt is the music they are dragging you onto the dancefloor for, and with most of these songs playing over the speakers, you’ll happily join them.

Overall, it seems that Motorists are the most compelling when infusing elements of krautrock and motorik into their work.

This new collection is most certainly not a pinnacle for the group, but it is a welcome rekindling of the same spirit and sonic magnitude that fueled their last undisputed gem, 2005′s Frances the Mute.

Any who listen to this record will enjoy it, there’s no reason not to. However, with more run time than ideas, the album runs the risk of having both too much and not enough to make listeners keep coming back.

Remember, Girls are only on their second full-length album and certain missteps should be expected. What we do know is that an album that misses the mark for Girls is far better than the majority of music we come across on a daily basis, and that Father, Son, Holy Ghost is, above all, a fascinating listen.

Saab Stories is the least appealing of those [albums], but that has less to do with the rapper and more to do with the production which doesn’t allow this extra-large personality to conflate alongside it. Action Bronson is a big man; he just needs room to breathe.

It’s at a crossroads between being many things: a moving resurrection; an impressive display of a talent we didn’t think we’d hear again; a slightly shambolic jam sesh; and more. Its coconspirator too often wears her sincere giddy passion for Mitchell on her sleeve (she may as well say “it came true” at some point), but it’s surely at least in good faith.

These songs don’t posture or peak dramatically; they sit, brood, and occasionally spiral.

The group who has created a sense of hype surrounding their sound did not deliver in comparison to past material that was praised so fondly for their vintage synth-pop sound.

Talent, when taken as a whole unit, functions exceedingly well as an album to scratch your daily dream pop itch, but when you try to take it as anything more than that it suffers.

VOID is a twisting chimera of a record as it skips through post-metal on “I Cannot”, to post-rock on “Not Today, Old Friend”, to math rock on “We’re Small Enough”, while never once feeling like anything other than a KEN mode record.

Blunderbuss is a quiet album that that doesn't yearn, instead unfolding slowly, from an artist known for his stark music and desperately longing lyrics.