While the artistry is evident in his picks, Moodymann's execution here could've use a more deft hand.

Ultimately, what So Pitted have--besides a name derived from a YouTube video of a surfer waxing poetic about a perfect wave--is the discovery of a rad tunnel of sound where noise and melody can high five each other with impunity.

My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy remains the apex of West's maximalist visions, and while The Life of Pablo certainly aims high, it isn't as consistently pointed in delivering both music and message as its big-budget predecessor was. And yet, it remains a modern gospel that is undeniably West's own, with a handful of vexatious moments peppered throughout the undeniably visionary ones.

At times Williams nearly overdoes it--he's transformed Billy Fury's "I'm Lost Without You" into an oddly sepia-toned, sweeping string arrangement--but ultimately, it's for the better that he takes these chances.

Need Your Light is certainly a step up from Beta Love, but Ra Ra Riot are missing the orchestral edge that originally set them apart from other groups in their genre, making it feel inessential despite being quite likeable.

Much of Principe's second half finds him repackaging the first half with plodding disco beats that make the initially exciting melodies seem boring the second (and third, and fourth) time around.

Brood Ma's vision of the future may be dark, but on the challenging, rewarding DAZE, his future as a purveyor of its soundtrack is all but secured.

While Yes, I'm A Witch Too makes Ono's work more accessible by sanding down the more experimental edges, in doing so, it somewhat detracts from what makes Ono's great.

The absence of track titles sometimes forces the listener to reach further into the album's alien sounds, but as Ultimate Care II hits the five-minute mark the novelty wears off and absorption into the composition's overall mood takes place, as Matmos do a terrific job of blending the album's noises (which ranges from water sloshing to lids slamming to knobs grinding) into a captivating whole.

While working on the album, the band reportedly tried to blur the lines--primarily through scattershot vocals--to make it hard to discern who wrote what. In the process, they've lost the collaborative, intersectional sound that's always provided a sense of humanity heart at the centre of Animal Collective.

There's relatively no atmosphere and groove this time around, and many of the songs seem forced, as if he's tried to ensure this one goes mainstream.

Prong have outdone themselves here, proving that they are still a force to be reckoned with and, ultimately, respected.

The Montclair, New Jersey's band's sound--off-the-cuff, loose heart-on-sleeve indie-rock cut with Americana--is the perfect vessel for that kind of premature twilight, anxiety and loss. Above all else, it feels so goddamned natural.

Producer Jim James (of My Morning Jacket) brings the same balance to the soundscapes Bulat maintains with her lyrics, positioning the space-age synths and backup harmonies in ways that invoke both gospel and girl group traditions without overshadowing the album's strongest suit: Bulat's vibrant vocals.

On Majid Jordan, it's clear the Toronto pair have refined their sound, with subtle but meaningful touches that make for a stunning, cohesive work of art.

An album that leads the listener through a grim landscape punctuated with urgency and violence.

At times, the album sounds a maybe little too polished, but the energy and stereo movement in songs like "Do We All Feel It" and "Disco Night Driver" sound like they would translate better live than in studio, anyway.

With the exception of Lil Durk's two verses, Thugga's extensive assortment of guests here falls flat, causing the second half of the tape to drag.

The latter half of Pool shines brightest when Maine shows more of himself, and becomes increasingly poetic and earnest.

Sequencing issues aside, the strength of Paris' production is the biggest standout aspect of the project. If the years spent between releases had anything to do with making sure the beats were adequately rendered, those were years well spent.

The songs on Scheherazade are original, though richly informed by traditional Americana. Most of them sound like they could be from any time in the last 80 years.

An aural delight that deserves multiple spins.

The heart of this record is a furious commitment to survival. It's gutting. It's heartbreaking. And it's pretty goddamn beautiful.

Over 11 tracks and 50 minutes, the Hamilton duo create compact and unhurried works that reflect the musical simplicity and approachable feel found on their 2004 debut, Last Exit.

If Whine of the Mystic was the boozy night out, Thought Rock Fish Scale feels like the groggy hangover. It doesn't hurt, but its lethargic haze makes you wish it were still last night.

The Gamble takes some extraordinary risks, but the rewards are glorious.

The Revenant OST is the duo’s fifth collaboration and moves like a symphonic version of their minimalist album Vrioon. To an already austere approach, Sakamoto seems to have added the resolve of a true survivor.

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