Northern Shore explores terrain that's simultaneously familiar and bracingly fresh; it's a gem.

The ten raw and carelessly endearing tracks feel oddly cathartic and refreshing, in an often pitilessly, anxious world more concerned with who tripped up the stairs at the Oscars.

Rainbow Arabia attempt to pay tribute to the heyday of synth pop, but overlook the small details that could have made FM Sushi a pleasurable, Technicolor retelling. Instead, the listener is left with black-and-white new wave Cliff Notes.

For the Shady diehard fans, Shady XV is enough. But for those searching for that nostalgic surge of adrenaline-inducing passion and innovative content reminiscent of the Shady reign, it's better to skip the new material and head straight to the classics.

Resistance is evidence not only of the Souljazz Orchestra's abilities, but also of their audacity.

With all the memories, both good and bad, unearthed on this album, Best Blues finds Small Black holding their composure, even when it seems like it'll be a total bummer.

Brandt Brauer Frick are still immensely talented, and you can hear glimmers of greatness crop up in the background here, but they've sadly jumped the shark on this one.

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.

The Age of Absurdity is tacky, unoriginal, occasionally annoying and altogether not good. Most of the blame falls squarely on vocalist Neil Starr, whose lyrics stumble through sleaze rock clichés that were already dated in 1988.

This is a collection of songs that wink at what previously made this band great and hint at some interesting paths forward, but ultimately declare that BNL have simply become unrequired listening.

Inoffensive music Iike this is an affront to the very idea of what makes music so worthy of obsession and analysis. It's the antithesis of self-expression; this ain't no victimless crime. For the first time, I understand the term: this is pure co-worker music.

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.

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.

Ultimately, there isn't much to recommend with Black Panties.

While the mix is peppered with samples from Butler's yoga guru, Parahamansa Yogananda, aiming for a spiritual vibe, this set is really one big party.

For much of Meteorites, strings attempt to fill in the hole that was the band's characteristically dynamic, propulsive low-end, to mixed results.

FWA's opening trio of "Glory," "He's Dead" and "I Feel Good" is severely tempered by the inclusion of clunky ballads with less-than-inspired production. Lyrically, there is little reference to Wayne's Carter V struggles amidst a wealth of new punch lines, but for every bit of wordplay that has potential to become another Weezy quotable, there is a handful of other cringe-worthy instances to counter.

This is a perfect match of old school talent and righteous inspiration.

Myths 004 is a feat of atmospheric storytelling that keeps us on our toes.

Ultimately, Zeus keeps nodding to the past even as they look toward the future on a record that's both introspective and jubilant.

Moby isn't letting the ills of the world get him down though; instead, they serve as the driving force behind These Systems Are Failing, an album both powerful and political that plays through without coming off the least bit preachy.

A Girl Cried Red takes you back in time to the nostalgia of your emo days.

Their albums just get better and increasingly fun to listen, and Blood for the Master confirms that.

It doesn't take long for the desire to have Auerbach dial down his magic formula just a notch to take hold.

The band maintain a proficiency at writing catchy riffs and intoxicating grooves, merging the likes of Sabbath with ZZ-Top, but the feeling of repetition, combined with a lack of impact like they used to have, may leave fans wanting.

While it's unlikely they'll ever again have the kind of recording budget a major label can afford, they certainly made the best use of what they had. That they made an excellent record in the process is a feather in their cap and a giant middle finger to the label that paid for it.

While it is unlikely that many listeners will find this song [Just Waves] worth revisiting, the rest of the EP is strong, and recommended especially to those already familiar with the group.

Birthmarks might throw off some, maybe even lose them, but the gamble has paid off, and will undoubtedly result in producing more new fans, as well as reassuring old ones.