Given some judicious editing, this could have been a truly great album; as it stands, we'll have to settle for just really, really good.

Sasami is a gifted writer who is careful to develop arrangements that heighten the emotions of her songs. Listeners will relish the detail poured into her debut, its polish not too shiny to obscure the raw experiences that its songs are drawn from.

While this third entry could be classified as largely more of the same, there's enough freshness here to warrant a closer look, especially if you're already a fan of the project.

What appeals to you about this Strand of Oaks effort will likely depend on which side of this spectrum you fall on--in the heartland or out in space. That's a divide that Eraserland creates, putting it somewhat out of sync with itself, but the title track brings those worlds together beautifully.

Sinéad O'Connor's eighth full-length album, and her first in five years, is a revelation.

[A] perceived lack of personality can't change the fact that Dalliance is one of the catchiest and most energetic guitar records of the year.

Olympic Mess isn't a complete shift in direction for him. It's merely one step toward the outer rim of a very large and very dark shadow.

Kamikaze hits like an electric storm, shaking into its listeners the disconnection that's resulted from our over-connected world.

There are definitely kinks: certain moments on this EP are disjointed and muddled, as the band throw loose riffs out into the ether and hope they'll stick, but the hooks and verve that made the band successful in the first place are still potent.

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.

"Psycho Star" and "Neverending Sunshine" are the more dance-y tracks that make The Other much more vast than Thomas's earlier work. Lastly, "No Man's Land" is a mesmerizing sendoff to end the album; slow and triumphant, by the time it's over you're left with a lasting impression.

Sunlit Youth may not be the massive leap forward some fans may have wanted, but it's far from a step back. Instead, it's yet another steady offering from Local Natives, who continue to build on a solid catalogue.

The issue is whether he's done enough to quench our R&B-infused pop sensibilities; he hasn't. The needle may have jumped a bit, but ultimately nothing here turns things over.

The Switch, in its entirety, is full of beautiful resonances.

As Wire albums go, Wire is very accessible and it contains nods to almost every album that has come before it.

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.

There is just enough difference in the two voices to keep things interesting, while producer Teddy Thompson corrals an A-list of session players, including Benmont Tench, Davey Faragher and Doug Pettibone to add empathetic instrumental accompaniment.

McCombs tries on many different hats, but has the skill to produce mostly positive results.

Provider moans with the stuff of life--fatherhood, working full-time, joy, death--and it's one of the most mesmerizing things any songwriter can lay claim to in recent memory.

Fe3O4 ― Magnetite will not come as a huge surprise sonically to those familiar with his back catalogue. That said, it is nonetheless sufficiently perplexing, abstract and rich to offer much incentive to return to it for any listener willing to be absorbed into his forbidding sonic universe.

Courageous and passionate, Bada$$ is a well-timed soundtrack to social and political struggle. While the album specifically chronicles the horrors of being a young black man in America, Joey articulates his angst in a way that easily resonates with anyone stumbling under the weight of oppression.

Dune Rats might be known for trivial punk rock songs about millennial angst and partying, but their new album proves the band can be much more.

Standout tracks about abandonment/haunting ("Ghosting"), or the opposite ("Feel You More Than the World Right Now"), carry an elemental charge that dials right into a frequency of feeling that only the best crafted pop can discover.

As usual, fascinating choices abound when a lost Bob Dylan session is unearthed (and, excitingly, signalling that maybe there's way more of this kind of stuff to come), but this one feels particularly prototypical and casual, and, with good humour, was intended to warm folks up — to each other and the material — more than get its hypothetical audience hot and bothered.

Ben Frost again proves himself to be adept at juggling noise and melody, rhythm and drone, distortion and clarity on The Centre Cannot Hold, a record that sculpts comfort from chaos and tunnels through darkness back to light.

There's rarely a moment on Jonny that feels regressive — for the first time since the Drums' debut 13 years ago, Pierce has mastered a way to bare both his chops and his emotions.

With Cloud Room, Glass Room, Pan American's original recipe feels slightly new–and-improved.

As a whole, the album solidifies King Gizzard & the Lizard Wizard as a truly ambitious band who balance classic songwriting with wild experimentation.