Dépaysé is for fans of Sinkane; new listeners might stop for a minute to appreciate the vibe before moving on.

Clarity, her debut album, falls short of capturing the breadth of Petras's rarity, excluding a few crystalline moments.

While the narrative correctly serves to examine our relationship with machines, and the execution feels as precise as something purely from the world of artificial intelligence, A Separation of Being struggles to find a sonic identity, which might make this a polarizing listen.

Yorke, it goes without saying, is a fine songwriter, so there's nothing particularly wrong with the solid AMOK. The problem is that there's nothing incredible about it, either.

On paper this is a solid album, and Plaid have pushed all the right buttons, but they've pushed those same buttons many times before.

The music lacks the sheer immensity that must have graced it originally, as it's virtually impossible to recreate something so grand at home.

Although the album doesn't repeat a verse-chorus-verse-chorus-breakdown formula, it also lacks distinct or memorable riffs.

Although the band clearly wears its assorted influences proudly on their collective sleeve, this diverse approach can sometimes hinder progress, resulting in some songs that are vibrant, complex and uniquely Cola, while relegating others to the derivative badlands.

The album has all the material necessary for a great release; it's simply lacking in its arrangement and execution.

Having more songs available to stream results in more royalties, though it doesn't equate to a flawless full-length.

Untame the Tiger feels more like something that was worked away at as a healing distraction, put down and picked back up at irregular intervals. The album’s first half generates a positive charge that tapers off toward its conclusion, but Timony’s sly guitar magic is always there to provide a jolt of life.

Plaid remain enjoyable, if a little stuck in a rut.

As a rock and roll journeyman, Lanegan's interesting direction on Phantom Radio is commendable even if it is not entirely magnetic.

Phair is at her best when she confidently picks a lane. Soberish is uneven because of her indecision, but it's still her best album since 1998's Whitechocolatespaceegg.

There are moments of suffering, self-pity and, eventually, redemption throughout the nine tracks, and although there are some missteps, Luke Winslow-King's I'm Glad Trouble Don't Last Always is admirable in its undertaking, and definitely worth the listen.

Bizarster is definitely worth a visit for Vibert fans and anyone who wants to relive some glory days, but considering the sheer size of his back catalogue, it's easy to see this one getting lost on the shelf.

Orth starts off with a very promising narrative, but soon loses the listener, and himself, in the world he's created.

The album is slippery, but perhaps not in ways that are interesting enough to memorable, and definitely not as much as his previous work.

O.N.I.F.C. starts off with "Intro," a Cardo and Sledgren joint that sums up the production: 808 drums, skittering hi-hats and saccharine melodies, although the atmosphere is meaner than Rolling Papers.

In Technicolor keeps this young duo striving to sound youthful and adventurous.

Thomas is still a little too fond of playing around with distortion on the vocals though, almost like a call-back to his really lo-fi days, and it sounds more out of place than ever.

The Behind the Green Door EP contains some of the most comfortably weird grooves we've heard from Laurel Halo.

While Eight Gates seems mostly germinal and is not the ideal introduction to Molina's work, fans will likely forgive the album's inchoateness and simply appreciate another dollop of the artist's distinct melancholia — nine tunes that underscore his attunement to suffering, inconsequence, and the brutality of the corporeal world.

It's opulent and immaculately composed but lacks the strong perspective that's usually central to FJM's work.

The Swizz Beatz-assisted "Let Me See Em Up," "Light it Up" and "Let the Beat Drop (Celebrate)" rarely do much to stand apart from filler. These occasional misses aren't enough to water down the entirety of Coolaid, though, with Snoop's return to G-funk proving refreshing enough to keep listeners' thirst quenched.

It's frankly still a pleasure to hear Lindstrøm masterfully keep everything in check, but there's a distinct lack of the full-throttle joyousness that he's capable of. If it was his intentional choice to temper that instinct, it was sadly misjudged.

While it's a huge pleasure to hear him pick up where he left off, this isn't the overwhelmingly triumphal return one might have hoped for.

Miracle Temple is still a wonderfully warm and welcoming record, but it never soars.

Sheff's lyrics, while typically verbose but economic, are more rambling here, but it's refreshing to hearing him cut loose.

This Is Not a Safe Place is a fine album with some songs that, with time, could become Ride staples. However, there are times where the band crumble under the pressure of bringing both a progression in sound, as well as a catering to their older audiences.

It's not an entirely off-putting mix, but it's only after a few songs that one starts to get a handle on what Branan's up to.

On Big Boat, their rambling new album, veteran producer Bob Ezrin (Pink Floyd, Alice Cooper, Lou Reed) does his best to emphasize the band's considerable knack for genre-bending exercises.

Blacc Hollywood, an LP titled like it might bring some overarching theme, is the audio equivalent of the Transformers quadrilogy: a series of in-your-face, mass-appeal blockbusters that lure crowds and teach them nothing.

On News from Nowhere, Darkstar have completed their transformation from playing in an overexposed genre to being in an irresolute one.

Animal Ambition showcases a very creatively confused 50 Cent, trapped in some sort of musical purgatory we can only hope he find his way out of.

Pink Floyd's final farewell doesn't deliver anything particularly unfamiliar to those acquainted with the Gilmour years. However, The Endless River serves its purpose as well as a collection of unreleased material can--it remembers an integral band member while reflecting on past glories in a reserved, respectable fashion.

Though wholly pleasant to listen to, The Wilderness occasionally dips into background music territory. And while it features some of Explosions' most exploratory music to date, the record is dragged down by passages that, despite the astro-nautical theme of the track titles, occasionally fail to reach the stratospheric heights Explosions are known for.

[Song One is] the album's crowning achievement and yet, at under two minutes, it's gone all too soon, a bittersweet reminder of the album that Nightstand could have been had Abbott built on this blueprint instead of sticking with a well-worn sound.

The album's peaks offer compelling paths forward for Gaga--the country balladry of "Million Reasons," the slinky pop of Florence Welch duet "Hey Girl"--but a dearth of memorable melodies makes Joanne's restlessness often feel aimless.

With Nun, Teengirl Fantasy sound pleasantly restless and resourceful, but there aren't enough transcending moments here to make this EP anything more than a stop-gap.

Lacks the clever subtlety of innuendos on songs like "Can I" (featuring Tory Lanez) and "F&MU." "Bad News," "Everybody Business" and "Open (Passionate)" are the album's standouts, showcasing elements of Kehlani's strongest contributions to music thus far, and highlighting her ability to make vulnerability a strength.

Aforementioned moments of experimentation show a continued development of Future's "Hendrix" alter ego, but there's something to be said for getting to know him over a longer runtime.

The cut-and-paste bursts here are beautiful, but they're few and far between.

More tempered and melancholy than on most of his Fruit Bats output, Johnson's writing owes some comparisons to fellow rockers turned film scorers like Jon Brion and Nathan Larson.

On their debut, Museum of Love have created a tight debut that seems more interested in its primal appeal than it does its cognitive.

It will undoubtedly take some time for fans of the band's earlier work to get acquainted with the stylistic shift, though A Perfect Circle's messaging might have benefited more from sounds tried and true.

Clocking in at just over 30 minutes, it doesn't overstay its welcome, but unfortunately it gives up most of its best moments by the halfway point.

While the band's attempts to recapture their old glory have typically felt like attempts to give fans what they've wanted from them--and the idea that of a bunch of old white men tying their authenticity to their black cultural forbears feels something like an ugly metaphor for this mess of a year--this is the Stones making music for themselves.

Tinged as they are by recent tragedy, each songs on In the End assumes a mournful, melancholic quality.

It's tempting to label Beard, Wives, Denim as a tossed off side-project that doesn't stray too far from its more famous parent band. But Pond have something more to offer and both fans and detractors of Tame Impala should give this a listen.

The only trouble is that nearly every track captures the same sense of John Hughes-worthy nostalgia, with no cut standing out above the rest.

Too often, it is more than halfway boring. It isn't uninspired or weakly performed. Rather, it is boring in spite of the overwhelming bombast, the booming bass and pounding drums, the huge vocals, the wailing guitars; it is boring because rather than electrifying you, it distances and anaesthetizes.... The good news is that those songs are, most of them anyway, pretty great.

It will always be a pleasure to hear Ritter's songs, to spend some time in his warm, rich universe. But he needs a new band, badly.

Breaking up the band's predictable metal onslaught is the mid-tempo stomp of "Morrigan," the slow-burning "Prayer for the Afflicted" and the ballad-esque "All for Nothing." While they're each a welcome reprieve from the sameness, these moments inadvertently temper any more chaos that could have perhaps been unleashed.

A raucous centrepiece it is not. A soundtrack for a nightcap alone though? Absolutely.

This record accomplishes what it sets out to do, engaging the listener with indisputably catchy moments, if a little inconsistently, throughout.

Throwaways make the ten-song album feel low on substantial ideas: there's enough material here for a solid EP, but it's rather thin for a full-length. Still, as a modestly enjoyable throwback to 2006, it gets the job done.

Strut of Kings requires more than just a first go-through, as much of the album could have benefitted from moving past the "first thought, best thought" rubric. Although it seems crazy to say, this is an actual Guided by Voices album that could have benefitted from an editor.

While Sex & Food is a disjointed effort with Nielson's usual ingenuity wavering at times, fans will undoubtedly find favourites in certain tracks. It's an anxious, up-and-down affair, with moments of reward sprinkled within its lethargic haze.

Scott's hedonistic lyrics about sex and drugs remain awfully vapid for what's been billed as a trap masterpiece (the utterly banal "SDP Interlude" takes the cake). ... Scott's strength, of course, continues to lie in his ear for beats, with part of his appeal being his ability to make songs with less than rewarding subject matter still sound cool.

Those familiar with Silver's work know he is fond of smaller-scale thematic/stylistic exercises like this, and on these grounds On Vacation succeeds nicely, but those looking for a bolder artistic statement may be disappointed by its conventionality.

Reassemblage is compelling, sure, but perhaps only for those who have the patience or curiosity for an exploration of the sonic predecessors of electronica.

The indecisive saga of Soulfly continues: sometimes their albums are quite good, sometimes quite bad and sometimes, like this one, they're just in between, not leaving much of an impression at all.

Everett has always been loathe to stand in one place for too long so it's quite possible that we'll see yet another side of him in a matter of months. For now, The Deconstruction is a rather rote and lackluster return.

Masquerading as a complement to SYRE, ERYS is a near replica of Jaden's previous effort, whose similarities run too close to repetition to make a true impact. The four-song arc that introduces the album (the "PINK" to SYRE'S "BLUE") doesn't quite hold the same ingenuity the second time around.

Political music only works with a strong point of view, which MUNA lack on this record. That said, it has at least a couple niche hits to round out summer playlists and Pride party sets. Even without the depth, MUNA know how to please a crowd — but the impression is fleeting.

In some ways, it works; the songs on Mind of Mine certainly skew towards more mature content and a sleeker, less bubblegum-y pop sound that's implemented expertly by producer Malay on silky smooth PBR&B-lite ballads like "It's You." It works less well on cuts like Kehlani collaboration "Wrong," which is gratingly heavy-handed with the Auto Tune--a problem that again rears its whiny head on "Fool for You."

Presented as a new studio album, it only manages to recapture the band's spirit, rather than its soul.

The resultant album is cohesive, but slightly tiring; bogged down in ballad after ballad, all draped with the Weeknd's pretty but repetitive vibrato falsetto.

It's an album that sometimes benefits from its wealth of ideas but often finds itself trying to find its way back to a central one.

At times, the blend is less than palatable and, frankly, too busy, as on the title track. However, this franticness is occasionally contrasted by a song that manages to draw you in.

Likewise checks all the boxes of a "good" album, but it's also a bit boring. It's too much a showcase of Quinlan's lyrical acumen, which is incisive, but the record doesn't strike a visceral chord.

With every moment on Internationally Unknown I find odd, I ask myself "was that intentional?" Because I usually have no idea. ... Internationally Unknown is fun and probably not intended to be examined too far past the surface.

It's evident that the two were having a good time recording Hokey Fright, and though the album isn't always successful, it's encouraging to see creative individuals ignore genre boundaries in order to bridge gaps.

If you can get past the haughty lyrics on "Fickle Sun (ii)," for instance, then its minimalist piano notes will surely impress. And yet, even that song's musicianship sounds downright conventional compared to preceding tracks "Fickle Sun (i)" and opening track "The Ship," a 21-minute composition that begins with solemn synth moans like a distant vessel's horn.

Unfortunately, there are a few too many moments with a "more is more" approach, and they hold the record back.

Aside from her moving rendition of little-known folk artist Zoe Mulford's "The President Sang Amazing Grace," Baez chooses songs that are close to her heart and represent her long journey, political struggles and ideals succinctly.

While the tension between live and synthetic elements is interesting to listen to, Homosapien lacks the kind of grand creative spark that's often born from this.

While the album is a fine showcase for Kim's beautiful, ageless tenor, those expecting more of the singer's soulful, sunny hits or Broken Social Scene's sonic adventurousness are likely to walk away a bit disappointed from It's Decided's classy, if a bit monochromatic, adult pop.

A Series of Shocks shoots for a different kind of looping hypnotism but lands slightly short.

This collaborative album, It's Hard for Me to Say I'm Sorry, casually sits somewhere in the middle between tonal ambience and noisy dissonance.

Five Spanish Songs is satisfying enough for its 20-minute runtime, but it definitely lacks the heft of his recent work; without his distinctive lyrics, it doesn't really feel like proper Destroyer.

This Connecticut group's latest recording, the four-song, unplugged effort It Kindly Stopped for Me, makes for a less instantly gratifying record that may take a certain kind of hurt to really understand.

On Calling from the Stars, Miss Kittin's ambition comes off as both a blessing and hindrance; it's a cycle of ideas that unendingly feel very close to wearing out its welcome.

Difficult to dislike. The knowing wink may feel a bit strained as the crow's feet deepen, but it will coax your face into a smile more often than not.

Glass represents Hunn's most mature musical sensibilities to date; however, the instrumentation throughout the album is so sporadic and indecisive that it's unclear what its ideal listening setting might be.

When Collegrove is good, it's very good. Unfortunately, it's tough to hear this project as anything but a crude marketing move to keep both rappers relevant until their next solo projects.

While Savage Mode II is by no means a lacklustre album, it may not be the exact product their fans hoped for.

While Container doesn't sound like he's challenged himself creatively on his most recent album, listeners who have yet to hear his indistinguishable, ear-splitting sound will find some auditory excitement.

C,XOXO isn't a bad album, particularly when stacked against the imagined disaster it could've been. The problem is that it sounds like it's been purchased from other talents rather than being curated and homegrown by Cabello and her team. You gotta hand it to her for trying though, even more so for the fact that it nearly, just nearly, works.

It's not quite as bad as you might think. I mean, it's only embarrassing 40 percent of the time, which for Seinfeld, is pretty impressive.

Wilkinson's eighth full-length shows the musician's adeptness at thoughtful, patient compositions, but he seems to have forgotten the value of self-editing.

GLUE will appeal to fans of '90s alternative rock who are looking for more, but will continue to alienate Boston Manor's longtime pop-punk-loving fans.

While Northern Chaos Gods unmistakably sounds just like Immortal, one can't help but wonder how amazing of an album it could have been had Abbath been involved to complete the phenomenal trio that Immortal once were.

There are moments on Long Long Road where Burnett almost makes his case: the rollicking "Baby Don't Go" is endearing, and Ringo is especially having fun on line dance-ready "Why." Much like Brian Wilson's feature-heavy No Pier Pressure, however, Starr mostly feels like a guest on his own album.

If you don't love Kweli, Gravitas won't change your mind, but lifelong fans will definitely find a lot to appreciate on this slight but enjoyable album.

At 13 tracks and close to 70 minutes in length, Abaporu just contains too many (albeit many terrific) ideas and stylistic flourishes to properly cohere as a singular work.

It offers the impeccable, twangy power-pop aesthetics--but also the oversimplification--of [Lucinda] Williams, and the sparkling, immersive production and raw honest lyrics--but also the never quite on key-ness--of the latter [Billy Childish].