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.