V. never rises above space rock, making the album feel like any other '60s hippie/psychedelic record. It's adequate, but when you can easily predict how it's going to play out, you're never left wanting more.

A deep, traversing album.

An album that challenges, even as it brings a 17-year band to its conclusion. As a coda for Frog Eyes, it's hard to imagine a more potent sendoff.

It's a comfortable collision of songs that probably won't gain many new listeners, but should find a home in real fans' collections, despite its lack of risk-taking.

This ain't the easy listen they've become known for, but it is a rewarding one.

The end result is likely the most dynamic and entertaining Jicks record thus far. You can hear Malkmus's love of classic and kraut rock in these crafty arrangements, which each get to a place where they truly shine. Hard.

Wide Awake! is a letter-perfect musical contemplation of modern times, where social uprisings are actually affecting positive change. It's urgent and potent music that's thought-provoking and danceable, and whose rage is measured by a pointed optimism.

Clever turns of phrase and quirky observations still permeate Barnett's writing, and there are still jangly, toe-tapping jams like "Need a Little Time" and "City Looks Pretty," but there are also darker forces at work.

What makes Hundreds of Days such a engrossing listen lies in the way Mary Lattimore flawlessly combines both mood and mode.

Compared to Wolfgang Voigt's heyday, Rausch can feel a bit a like a protracted misstep. Although GAS's sound starts to sound a bit dated, Voigt can still be applauded for his approach to storytelling and patience in constructing his electro-orchestral worlds.

The result is a fun, freewheeling album that nonetheless feels mature — and still very NYC as well.

The Siren's Song is another compelling chapter in what looks increasingly likely to be the long story of Kacy & Clayton's career.

Mark Kozelek is a skeletal record, composed almost exclusively with guitar loops and vocals tracks, designed to serve as a vehicle for his diary-like lyrics. Some may argue that Kozelek aims for quantity over quality, while others wait attentively for his next correspondence.

Leon Bridges' sophomore record rings as an endorsement of his range. And that's a great thing for Good Thing, which tempers its pop-radio ambitions with unique bends on the age-old love song in this super-tight, 35-minute ride.

DNA Feelings is unlikely to show up in any club sets. It is far too complex and unconventional. This is late-night, "visions of alchemy" stuff.

The album is slippery, but perhaps not in ways that are interesting enough to memorable, and definitely not as much as his previous work.

Floating Features hits the ear and satisfies as much as a California-grown avocado, buttery and smooth.

Overall, this is an album that blends choral and electronic to create something that amounts to little more than unobtrusive background music. It lacks both the cultural depth of world music and the dynamic disco beats of their earlier offerings.

At this stage, both brothers realize they work better together, though SR3MM's unique format allows for a distinct look at the two very different parts of what make Rae Sremmurd tick.

If you're a long-time listener, or someone that was tuned in to AM, you might be prepared to change the dial. But before you write this off as exhausting or pretentious self-indulgence, give it a listen or two. Peruse the lyrics, dissect them and have a laugh. Commitment isn't as scary as you think.

The end result is proof that traditional instruments can work incredibly well with electronics, although it might take two legends to pull it off.

Minor evolutions aside, there's not a whole lot to set 7 apart from the six albums that preceded it, making it easy to see this as just another Beach House album. Don't take them for granted, since it's hard to think of another band that has delivered so reliably for this long.

Now with a larger band, rapid-fire lyrics don't serve the same spatial purpose they did when Graves was stomping out his own drum beat. There's a busy conversational quality to the songwriting that strict economical poetics couldn't achieve. There's not a lot of wordless space on Can't Wake Up.

Cut Worms' music might not be as immediate as Andy Shauf's, or as inventive as Whitney's, but for listeners who miss the time when songwriters wrote actual songs, this album should not be overlooked.

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.

he only complaint (quibble really), is that a number of the pieces don't have endings. ... Otherwise, this is an enjoyable and important document. One of many for a pioneer we are all grateful to have discovered.

Beerbongs & Bentleys contains banger after banger; it's an incredible drug-induced album.

The Horizon Just Laughed is an album capable of moving listeners figuratively and literally. The pastiche of genres aptly complement and accent the American folk foundation that he's built his style and brand on.