Ash still generate radio-friendly tunes on Kablammo!, but they lack the depth that they demonstrated at their peak, and sound a little like they're merely repeating their post-millennial releases at this point.

The songs--though sparely produced as usual--sound picked over, like they've been played too many times and have lost their fire.

Songs like "How Will I Get Through This One," "If You Ever Have Forever In Mind" and "I'm Pretty Sure That's What's Killing Me" are good, but not in a "tour de force, let's re-introduce the band to a whole new generation with some familiar, but next level stuff"-type of way.

It's hard to hear a group fall so flat on the follow-up to an album like Subiza, but even though there are some bright moments, Apar is undoubtedly a letdown.

Tall Tall Shadow (the long-awaited follow-up to 2010's Heart of My Own) sees Bulat lifting her voice once again--high above the fussy introduction of electronic elements--to a place where joy and despair mingle in heady measures.

So Joy Comes Back might be on your shopping list, especially if you're already a Ruthie Foster fan, but take this advice: It's only half a great album, so keep it on the B side.

For the most part, the rest of the album is less head-turning, which that can translate to forgettable. Still, it's about time Taking Back Sunday shook things up, so the high points make Tidal Wave an effort that should please dedicated fans and appease the sceptics somewhat, as well.

While the arrangements are relatively unadorned compared to the original versions, Campbell's voice is strong, and the overall results are a dignified last letter to his fans. There may be little appeal beyond that.

The trio are adroit musicians with pleasant vocal abilities--loving the falsetto--and if you look past the over-indulgences, the album is solid, if not particularly memorable.

This isn't poppier than anything they've done over the past decade or so, but few individual songs stick out like good pop songs should.

For the most part of Concrete and Gold, it's the same anthemic, meat 'n' potatoes arena rock we've come to expect; a little more punk or metal aggression here, a little more acoustic balladry there, but the mould is the same.

While this project will likely infiltrate the Serato of many a nightclub DJ, there's little--outside the three or four cohesive, codeine-fuelled joints surprisingly carried mostly by Future--that reaches the potential of what What a Time to Be Alive could have been.

There are a few new sounds here — prominent vocal harmonies in the chorus of the opening title track, electronic snare hits and a soft synth hum on the saccharine "Looking for a Vein" — but for the most part, this is familiar DMB.

Similar to how Drake and Future on What a Time to Be Alive, the two collaborators have trouble finding common ground here. They're equally impressive in their own right but they rarely connect, and when they try on each other's styles, it's awkward.

It's a remarkably ambient record that is also hard to settle into and relax around; it definitely rewards active listening.

August By Cake gets interesting when tracks like "Warm Up to Religion" and "What Begins on New Year's Day" tap into the melancholy that's occasionally haunted Pollard's melodies. Aside from those tracks, though, he shows little interest in the tinkering that made his earlier work so interesting.

The best moments here are either instrumental or wordless, when Coyne's voice--which, though never technically impressive, always fit perfectly with each album's sound, whether it was the ragged bombast of their Soft Bulletin-era epics or the hushed haunt of The Terror--becomes a whispering (or even whistling) texture. Lyrically, though, Coyne appears to have exhausted any last nuggets of profundity he once had.

Though the production lags at times, Wiley's performance overall is still a fitting conclusion to his groundbreaking journey in music.

There's enough here to keep fans happy and even win a few more over in the process, but it's another mixed bag from a band that are easier to like than love.

The first half of the album is presented with the clean and stripped down grain of early Karate songs, but the feel is less their trademark over-caffeinated tension and more suburban dad that used to be in punk bands jamming to Thin Lizzy songs with his buddies in the car port. This isn't necessarily a bad thing, but it's not very remarkable either.

These head-scratching moments mean that, despite the collection's successes, it probably works better as a sheet music oddity than a cohesive album.

In order to continue to excel, he needs to move past the solipsistic and look outward. He raps better when he does.

As tracks like the bombastic slow jam "Ascension" and the Drive soundtrack cast-off "Disclosure" add a bit of auditory depth to the album, much of Chiaroscuro runs at a dreary autopilot pace.

Despite 7 not being a fantastic project by any measure, the EP proves that Lil Nas X isn't a one-hit wonder and can find longevity in his career as long as he continues to show off his versatility.

Rubinos's major folly on Una Rosa seems to be her desire to push her craft forward and to challenge herself. And while that may be the main ingredient for truly groundbreaking music, she forgot to draw up a blueprint beforehand.

Mixing Colours shows Roger and Brian Eno at their most casual and unguarded, but there's simply not enough variety, curiosity or sense of adventure here to dub it as a must-listen.

It could have been much better. Kanye's foray into gospel should have been a heavenly experience, but it's half-baked, incoherent and ultimately falls short of godly.

At the expense of sounding more classically "Wolf Parade," the album suffices as a fun listen with some neat nostalgic nods, lopsidedness and all.