Panic Blooms is a shadowy, leaking sibling, licking its wounds and pulling back from the sunlight. There seem to be fewer entry points here than with other BSMR albums, but there's also a comfort in its unabashed adherence to exploring bad feelings: hearing weirdos call it like they see it, even when the going's gotten rough, offers some strange sense of reprieve.

If not the most focused entry in the project's storied discography, it's a delightfully wide angled glance at what the Orb still have brewing and perhaps a projection of a vital new period of experimentation.

Themes for Television works as the perfect translational piece between Windswept and the much lighter, more traditionally ambient followup Digital Rain, despite actually arriving in the wake of the latter.

There is less attention paid, it seems, not to the writing, which is often clever and quite sharp, but to the performing of the writing against the virtuosity of the instrumental performances. The balance puts the album unnecessarily on edge. All that said, this is one of the better examples of what post- or progressive bluegrass can do.

ATW is perplexing in its ability to both continue many of All Them Witches' songwriting motifs while often (and sometimes simultaneously) subverting them altogether.

These unapologetically authentic offerings are balanced with several from the band's comparatively tidier self-titled LP era. The unholy marriage of mayhem and hookery on the infectiously melodic "Dirty Shirt" and "Leave Me Out" begs to be bowed to.

Blossom shows much promise for AI-augmented composition in the realm of electronic sound. It's unlikely that a software version of the Beatles will exist in our lifetime, but Purgas and Ginzburg have proven that the boundaries of technological possibility are completely mutable.

The work to weave so much together — and do it so well — speaks to Frisell's skill as a composer. His affable, warm nature seeks to connect people, sounds and ideas. On Harmony, Frisell seems to have found just that.

Their sound is hypnotic and abstract, as though they're disassembling and reassembling songs and sounds as they go — and the result is a quietly, dreamily thrilling listening experience.

Blandly vapid songs.

Dealing with Demons I has its moments, but the music is ultimately plagued by the inescapable realization that DevilDriver are better as a band than as Dez Fafara and company.

Although its runtime of 16 tracks and 67 minute means that a portion of Q36 dips in energy, Rentals fans will no doubt count Sharp's latest outing as a ambitious, astute and listenable achievement.

While A Billion Little Lights as a whole is not as elegantly cohesive as Wild Pink's past work, the starry-eyed melodies shine stronger and more confidently than ever.

Eleki and psych rock appear to not be enough for the seven-piece's voracious and diverse musical appetites, and Shirushi offers many directions from which the band could reasonably choose.

Your reception towards Convocations will depend on your patience, your tolerance for experimental albums, and whether you're even a fan of Stevens' instrumental work to begin with. If you're not, then Stevens exploring grief via Brian Eno-style minimalism is not going to be what swings the pendulum for you. For Stevens' disciples though, there's enough here to warrant a poring over reminiscent of the same given to holy books.

Some additional layers wouldn't hurt next time around, and perhaps some brighter, more varied production when the opportunity arises, but this is a solid, high-energy debut from a pair that definitely has their style figured out already, with lots of room to build.

Balvin proves to be taking risks the whole way through. With JOSE, J Balvin offers stiff competition to Kanye and Drake's recent 20-plus song efforts with a far more consistent effort.

The return to a more electronic-based production style is a welcome homecoming, allowing every pluck of the guitar and gentle synth stroke to speak for itself. Infinite Health is medicinal music for the soul. Santé!

For some listeners, these lyrics might strike as free association, but there's a coherent logic to be traced from one line to the next, and strong thematic ground to be established as Menuck makes an important connection between the privatized experiences of the domestic space and that of the globally conscious citizen.

These are soundscapes rather than tracks.

Whether she'll ever return to Dum Dum Girls remains to be seen, but as Kristin Kontrol, she's offering an exciting artistic refresh that Dum Dum fans should get on board with.

This time around, they've pulled from the world's ever-present deterioration to bring some much-needed heft and urgency to the formula.

The melodies, meanwhile, avoid obvious hooks, in favour of tension and knotty complexity. This rescues Lousy with Sylvianbriar from dreary rockism.

A decent addition to his discography, More Is Than Isn't could use more dance beats and much more P. Blackk.

It all sounds great, but the songs don't sink in, don't push past the surface.

While not as rewarding on multiple listens as anything the Collective has ever produced, Enter the Slasher House is the ideal detour between now and the band's next record.

At only 22-years-old, Cara doesn't feel gimicky, nor like an over-produced product of a record label. She's raw and pure, an obvious example of an artist who will only continue to build momentum.

The record is their most musically ambitious to date, while still maintaining the unrelenting, thrash-influenced Southern heavy metal they do best.