Let’s be honest: the [Brian Jonestown Massacre] hasn’t hewed to its classic sound in some years, so why not let Psychic Ills take on the drug pop mantle instead? As this album proves, they [wear] it well.

Fans of Rundgren’s more song-oriented LPs may balk at Runddans, but fans of experimental electronics will grok the vibe.

Their latest, crammed with 17 tracks, will likely be a case of too much of a good thing for all but the hardcore fans.

Bid and his crew are real pros, totally confident.

Yet another viciously fun balls-out rocker of an album.

There’s a feeling of triumph and celebration imbued in these tunes, although Joan’s voice remains cautious even in the midst of the revelry. Ranging from wistful to giddy, this is an uncommonly expressive effort that boasts clear allegiance to modern pop while still remaining a step or so out of reach.

The songs on their second full length Baba Yaga are not immediately sticky, in fact they take some time sink in.

Darkly defiant, Nothin’ But Blood is turbulent and tempestuous to a manic extreme.

Some of their ‘80s-style material also works in a pretty way (“Re-invent Your Second Wheel,” “BW Silence,” “Time Lock Fog”), but not so that you’re convinced that their collective hearts are in it.

The rock instruments--drums, keyboards and guitar--set the framework, but it's the chamber music instrument that blows the doors down.

While the melodies are occasionally amorphous, the poetry and passion are clearly conveyed.

There’s a lot to like here and hopefully these three will keep working again, trim the fat and lock in for an even more thrilling ride next time.

Unfortunately, while the singers add some variety to the down-tempo dance stew that Green comes up with, they also fade into his lounge-like, bare-bones background all too well without adding much flavor, not to mention bite, to the proceedings.

When the band kicks on the distortion, things pick up immensely.

The ferocity in their delivery and the sheer sweep of their eager entreaties create an anthemic exposition, resulting in a series of songs that make it impossible to sit still.

It’s always comforting to know that certain stylistic bents of rock never go out of style. That’s usually because someone puts a new spin on an old formula. That’s arguably the case with E.

The album is chirpy, playful and transitory, dispensing 10 songs in 31 minutes.

Interesting juxtapositions proliferate, but Ava Luna often seems to be pursuing oddity for its own sake. The best cuts here are the most unitary.

Paul Walker’s not for everyone but will at least get the 40-somethings to quit bitching about Green Day.

Free Reign, co-produced by Oneohtrix Point Never's Daniel Lopatin, is subtler, jazzier and ever-so-slightly sexier than previous Clinic outings.

While some tracks prove unradical, it is when Astronautalis fuses heavy bluesy-rock influences with his beats that Science truly shines.

Sermon on the Rocks should speak to anyone with an ear for melody and an appreciation for a commanding, compelling delivery. Whether or not this broadens Ritter’s reach remains to be seen, but even if it falls short, be assured that it’s still excellent regardless.

The problem is the album starts to wear thin about halfway in and never really gets back the strength of those first few songs.

They ply the same general furrow as American contemporaries like Wooden Shjips, though with a tighter, more consciously limited focus.

As Toro Y Moi is mirroring sounds from genres past, Anything in Return sounds all too familiar.

While not nearly as great as seeing the band live, this record does a commendable job of capturing the band at their energetic, playful best.

The Canadian chanteuse offers up a series of deceptively delicate entreaties that quickly give way to the sort of emphatic rhythms and boisterous melodies that reflect an unmistakably bold confidence.

All in all, it makes for a rich and resilient brew, and maybe, just maybe, the kind of opus that will propel Jurado towards the greater accolades he so clearly deserves.