It has brief sparks of a fresh creativity and has plenty of potential, but doesn't take steps bold enough to totally reinvent itself, making for a record littered with moments that let it sink into the forgettable parts of the band's catalogue.

Corny super group-nostalgia act trying to live up to the untouchable legacy of the members' previous bands? Or timely, and much-needed visceral response to trying times? It depends on your outlook. Prophets of Rage might not be the rap-rock group we need, but maybe they're the one we deserve.

American Man seems to fall into the same [alt country-lite] formula, leaving little space for new ideas. They make up for that with enthusiasm and just enough grit; for those who like their country punk-y, raw and simple, American Man is a breath of fresh tobacco.

Berberian Sound Studio is far from an essential album, but it's definitely a welcome surprise addition for fans of Broadcast, the movie itself or fans of Italian horror soundtrack artists such as Goblin.

Nokia wears many hats throughout the album--but each personality feels authentic. There's never a sense that she's masquerading. Despite Nokia's artistry, though, Deluxe has a few marked flaws. Her cadence and punchlines are amateurish at times, and there's something flat about the production and overall mix. ... Overall though, Deluxe is a solid effort that proves this Harlemite has the range. Fans will surely delight.

Though Armstrong does a decent job of speaking for the freaks and the rebels, Green Day's music is always at its best when he's speaking for himself, and Revolution Radio is no different.

The band's 10th album, is basically standup comedy that transcends parody by being so utterly silly that it's almost charming.

If you're not familiar with Kinski, you may find yourself expecting vocals to kick in, but when they do on the next track, "Flight Risk," the skeezy, barfly style feels tossed off and has a cheapening effect on the song. Conversely, "Operation Negligee" features the most satisfying vocals on the album.

His songs no longer have the raw-nerve urgency they once did, which makes Upside Down Mountain a pleasantly peaceful listen, but lacking the power and urgency of his best work.

Tales From Wyoming stays safely in the established genre without trying to be groundbreaking, but simplicity and quirky immaturity are the bread and butter of pop punk, and there's enough to satisfy here.

Though certainly not as compelling as Vile's more recent work, the Jamaica Plain EP is worth a listen if only to dig deeper into the musical past of one of modern indie-rock's most celebrated performers.

Triage is worthwhile in its own right, but it falls just short.

California plays out less like an album and more like a collection of songs; uneven and disjointed, it's hard to take in as one larger whole.

The album starts out blazing with Fogerty and the Foo Fighters doing "Fortunate Son," and that pace is largely maintained all the way through to a rousing "Proud Mary," with Jennifer Hudson, which manages to simultaneously pay tribute to the Ike & Tina version and the song's original New Orleans inspiration.

It comes as no surprise then that Megadeth, like so many of those latter-day albums, is an uneven affair, front-loaded with its best material in the time-honoured tradition — but when it's good, it's good.

Non-Believers is an easy record to enjoy, but there isn't much more going on.

Too bad the music isn't as varied. In replacing keyboardist Sasami Ashworth with bassist Devin O'Brien, Cherry Glazerr have gone from wiry and versatile to big and bulky, but their titanic low-end quickly becomes stiflingly repetitive.

Wistful and introverted themes abut against a handful of more fraught moments, where the memories turn from monochromatic to colourful clusters, like autumnal avalanches of melody.

It's clear the Blaze are still passionate about the music they make, so listeners looking for an album full of songs like their earlier material are sure to be satisfied. Those looking for adventurousness and growth may not find all that they're looking for.

There's endless potential in this collaboration, if only they'd take a more confident leap into the unknown.

Commerce is pulling more gears than art here. Simply skip the lows and ride the highs. Because when Khaled does hit, it can still be fun as hell, like gorging on popcorn and 'splosions.

They're not back at their best, but on Everything Now, Arcade Fire once again sound like the world-beaters they were on The Suburbs without forgoing the acidity, swagger and scope of Reflektor.

Animal Races is an homage to a bygone era, and a terrific one at that, so while it's far more influenced than it could ever be influential, it does have the potential to inspire sentimentality among those who lived through the era to which it devotes itself.

If you've got a unquenchable thirst for reverb-y guitar pop, The Flower Lane is a pleasant album worth a listen, but those looking for something more should probably look elsewhere.

While the tracks are still heavily Black Sabbath-influenced, unfiltered doom, they don't live up to the expectations of what Wino-era Saint Vitus should be capable of.

As the ninth addition to the Wilco canon, Star Wars is a vessel for a few impressive tunes, another respectable--if just a little uninspired--step for a band that continues to unapologetically evolve

Gone are the crushing riffs and transitions, replaced with subdued progressions. It's a real blight on much of the record, unable to keep the listener enthralled or interested.

While Bunny is fairly consistent across the board, there isn't much that sticks out here.

In 2014 this just seems like the kind of better-than-average album that befalls way too many British musicians past their prime.

Unfortunately, The Official Body remains confined to rudimentary rock arrangements and rigid structures. It doesn't reconcile these contradictions until its final three tracks, which makes for restless, if brief, listening in its middle entries.

Vår exhibit an ambition to spiral as far as possible down into some dark abyss while maintaining a constant impression of strange beauty.

Though unlikely to win legions of new fans, this is another impeccably crafted psychedelic rock record sure to please fans of the genre.

Nihilistic chugging riffs permeate the album from beginning to end, thundering away and drilling a particular tempo into your head. But this repetition isn't served by the sort of groove that previously was a keystone to Electric Wizard's sound.

While the first half of Power Of Anonymity subtly effaces any semblance of her live sets, the bottom half thankfully picks up the pace and salvages what could have been a very straightforward, if not dull, dance floor-aimed release.

Cynical and crushing, Bright New Disease is the sound of a short-term supergroup flexing their technical skills and boundless musical knowledge. It stands as a commendable and blistering — albeit slight — diversion from either band's respective output.

If Snoop could just cut his track lists in half and focus on well-crafted party songs, the Doggfather might just find himself back on top.

Free Spirit is Khalid's coming-of-age story: it's well-constructed, but already feels too predictable at this point.

Like many slackers with a heart of gold, Fulvimar is full of interesting ideas on this record, but can't seem to put in the work to flesh them all out.

Fans of Wolfmother and Pallbearer might see this as the second coming of Sabbath, if they liked more At the Gates. But those who are looking for a bit more fuzz won't find it. Melodies, not distortion, drive this album.

It feels like a coherent album as opposed to a loose collection of songs. There are stumbles, but given the band's history, they feel minor.

A pleasant float into the blue of Allison's mind. It's a safe and comfortable journey, but you might find yourself dreaming of bigger adventures.

Sum 41 in 2016 is a lot like their early 2000s pop punk peers Blink-182; they're fun, capable of writing at least a few songs worthy of an inevitably forthcoming "best-of" compilation and at their best when embracing their past.

Don't You puts up a strong front that should connect with fans of all those aforementioned artists, but Wet's debut only connects with contemporary R&B, never pushing it forward.

For those of us who've been following his twisting career for decades, for a lifetime, it's hard to complain too vociferously when Neil Young makes yet another daft musical statement. It's just what he does. Sometimes it works; often it doesn't.

The ambience of Second of Spring is pleasing for sure, but there's nary an earworm in the 17-song bunch.

There are undeniable flashes of peak Joji scattered throughout the album, which only heightens the frustration. They serve as reminders of his ability to be great, confirming the unevenness as less of a lack of talent and more of an excess of underdeveloped ideas.

While the sound of this is pretty uniform the quality is all over the place and very dependent on the song being covered.

Pure & Simple is at best a middle shelf release in Parton's discography.

The London producer emphasizes structural variety over substance, and relies on former sonic signatures to push a release that remains distinguished within the electronic landscape. However, in the context of his oeuvre, Young Death / Nightmarket listens like just another cut of the same.

A Head Full of Dreams might have been a poptimist masterpiece. Instead, it's just another Coldplay album, with all the baggage--both positive and negative--that entails.

Though not nearly as essential as their first two albums, Long Live finds Atreyu reaching higher than they have in almost a decade.

Across the record's 12 tracks, Lavigne tries on a variety of styles, inhabiting each with ease, but rarely manages to rise above and make the sound her own.

Untogether does manage to lose its grip on your attention, at times, falling back on a bit of redundancy, but when it takes hold, it grabs you by the ears and fills them with a wistfulness that haunts you for days.

Rub is fun for a few listens, but it's hard to really fall in love with.

The Next Day is a good latter-day Bowie record, worthy of at least a few listens, but since it's so evocative of his earlier, better work there's little reason not to put on Scary Monsters or Heroes instead.

Call It Love is an enticing work, but despite its many pleasing qualities, it doesn't quite stand out from the oversaturated electronic dream-pop scene.

Given that these recordings span different eras and sessions, High Hopes does have a cohesiveness, flow, and degrees of greatness, but unlike the career-spanning rarities comp Tracks, there's nothing about these lost or revisited songs that screams out "Jackpot!"

Images Du Futur feels like a great movie without an ending.

Seven Davis Jr's debut attempts to stay afloat on the strength of a few strong tracks, but ends up sounding stretched a little too thin.

It's noble to see Iron & Wine trying to take his songs into a different direction, but it's a shame that he lacks the confidence to allow these great songs to show off their personality without the help of inane studio glossiness.

It's upbeat, fashionable and sounds great in the background when you're only half paying attention. Rather than seizing his moment in the spotlight, Parker sounds like he's just enjoying the journey.

Overall, Gloria seesaws between being compelling and generic, with just enough highs to keep you interested throughout.

There's something lacking in this collection of tracks: a counterpoint to the darkened atmosphere to prevent Remember Your Black Day from coming across as just another example of weak-willed EBM.

Aphex Twin has made a good move here by giving a similar feel throughout the EP, but instead of having a few so-so tracks alienated by a standout one, the entire release ends up being fine but unremarkable, especially when pitted against the behemoths of his back catalogue.

Is it less than the sum of its parts? Perhaps. However, it is an ambitious and interesting album that not only plugs the gap nicely between Tim Hecker and Oneohtrix Point Never albums but signals interesting things to come from Lopatin's SSTUDIOS series.

It works because of its twitchy pop sensibilities, which gaze longingly back at the '80s, and while that isn't a bad thing, it's still a hard record to get attached to.

The accomplishment is that the sound is unique and understated. The unpredictable becomes predictable quickly, though.

Sensorimotor as a whole isn't as strong as Lusine's previous efforts for Ghostly International.

The Way Things Fall remains a sometimes flawed, sometimes inspired, inadvertent return to form.

Too often, the album is weighed down by pedantic, average beats and too many run of the mill guest verses, indicating Meth's generosity is a bit of a weakness. Ultimately, it dilutes The Meth Lab's potency.

They avoid mere imitation, but a sense of aimlessness still floats through the record.

There's a thin line between owning up to the voracious hunger needed to reach a new level of fulfillment and being trapped by the desperation to regain a title that is no longer his. Ludaversal finds itself somewhere in between.

Steve Earle doesn't make the same kind of hi-test outlaw country he used to, but The Low Highway shows that his swagger hasn't completely disappeared.

It makes for a record with some distinct highs and lows; when it works, it is a lovely shimmering thing that amply demonstrates just how precious Flying Saucer Attack were and still are.

As a standalone release, devoid of the visual context it's designed to pair with, Rat Film doesn't always find lasting purchase, but it does in parts. ... Still, Rat Film shows off increasing nuance and range in Deacon's abilities as a composer.

Maybe it's the tedium of a career spanning nearly two decades, or a shred of complacency settling in after winning the highly coveted Mercury Prize in 2016, but Skepta seems subdued on Ignorance. A decent album, but not his best.

For now, it's likeable despite feeling a little too aimless.

Goldenheart functions as a hypnotic aural distraction, but little more.

While PND's production is typically on point, his songwriting and vocal skills are still evolving.

Although ultimately underwhelming, Moon Duo still create an enjoyable easy-listening psychedelic atmosphere in Stars Are the Light. It might not be the kind of album you can become deeply attached to, but would never fail to please as background music.

One hopes that once this space opera is complete Haley will allow himself to broaden his horizons a bit more. In the meantime, Silicon Tare is worth a listen.

As much as these songs hit upon Mudhoney's winning elements, there's a lack of swing in the band's step.

It's a logical continuation of 2007's slick Cassadaga (less so 2011's rock-inclined The People's Key) — but given the renaissance Oberst has enjoyed with his side-projects in recent years, it doesn't quite live up to Bright Eyes' lofty name.

Skullcrusher's debut points to Helen Ballentine's undeniable skills, particularly as a melodist. A bit more distancing from popular templates, however, may have served to further distinguish her work from that of her abovementioned contemporaries.

In shearing off that thorniness, Drop Nineteens have returned as a highly competent, often lovely, and perhaps less interesting version of themselves.

Among the paint-by-numbers tracks, Born In The Echoes has still got a couple of artful numbers peppered throughout.

Though his skill is absolutely unmatched, homophobic references and overly misogynistic bars in 2018 do feel excessively out of touch. It's not his best or his worst--but, it's definitely what fans deserved eight months ago.

What Trouble lacks in focus, it largely makes up for with ambition and dexterity.

Oyamada's work as Cornelius over the past 20 years has defied genre, logic and time; on Mellow Waves, it sounds like he's on cruise control.

Monsters Exist stands as one of Orbital's most frustrating albums--the ideas are present, but the execution simply isn't.

Technically flawless, but focused to a fault, Albert Einstein is further proof that Alchemist could benefit from a mistake.

This is a forward-looking release by a group still searching for reverence.

So There, Ben Fold's collaborative LP with yMusic (a classical sextet from New York) is poppy, ambitious and bold. Yet despite clocking in at nearly an hour--including a 20-minute-long concerto for piano and orchestra with the Nashville Symphony--the new record feels scarce on songs.

Foam Island is a patchwork album that never ends up feeling quite settled.

There's a lot to like about Songs My Friends Wrote, especially the way it celebrates lesser-known tunes — but unfortunately, not a lot of the charm and wit that Corb Lund fans have come to love.

Caveman have followed-up CoCo Beware with a solid effort that retains some of the looseness of their debut. However, with the added label pressure, that looseness sometimes feels forced.

Much of Fixion, while enjoyable, finds Trentemøller stuck on the same weary note, reaching for what's comfortable and familiar rather than pushing his craft forward.

Some may chide Farrar for playing it safe on Honky Tonk, but in nearly every respect this album sounds as if Farrar has finally arrived at an artistic place he's always longed to find.