With little overlap between his back-to-back acoustic performances recorded last November, we're provided a sterling overview of Adams' impressive catalogue. [No.121, p.53]

Save for the slightly teary 90-second trudge of "The Real Wilderness," it's a rollicking pummel throughout. [No. 121, p.58]

I don't feel moved by Lee's progress toward enlightenment. [No. 121, p.56]

The Helio Sequence has pared down its sound and vision without losing a molecule of its well-defined identity. [No. 121, p.52]

Every track here honors the spirit behind her perfromance style first and foremost. [No. 121, p.51]

Underneath it all is a specificity of sound that threads all of the album's tracks together like beads on a string. [No. 121, p.55]

An album that is cinematic in scope and has a harmonic narrative as complex as your favorite TV show. [No. 121, p.55]

The best cuts here happen to be those hewing closer to Major Lazer's wake-and-bake dancehall origins. [No. 121, p.57]

The whole thing is ghoulishly gorgeous in the most comfortably comfortable way. [No. 121, p.60]

An inventive, truly out-of-time pop record that never registers as nostalgic. [No. 121, p.61]

It's bright and lovely stuff, but I miss the darkness. [No. 121, p.61]

Last Of Our Kind has heavy and abrasive moments that are heavier and more abrasive than anything in The darkness discography. [No. 121, p.53]

What sounds like downcast spaciousness is actually riddled with layers of sound complementing the expected morose and heartfelt topics. [No. 121, p.61]

Mutilator continues Thee Oh Sees' unprecedented, mind-melting hot streak. [No. 121, p.61]

This is about as '80s nostalgic as you can get without voting for Margaret Thatcher and hoovering up a pile of Peruvian flake. [No. 121, p.61]

It refracts light in multiple, appealing ways. [No. 121, p.61]

Miller is a clever, concrete writer, and The Traveler is full of melodies that lock into place with a sense of inevitability. [No. 121, p.58]

It's a treat to hear Cohen so comfortable in both his old and new skins. [No. 121, p.53]

Kinski has probably never rocked this hard. [No. 121, p.57]

The Welsh quintet's second release goes down as easy as a mixtape on a '90s spring day. [No. 121, p.57]

More than enough to make this probably the finest dance-party record this summer will have to offer. [No. 121, p.55]

Guitar player Martin Belmont and keyboard ace Bob Andrews shine throughout, adding subtle fills and accents that give plenty of sparkle to arrangements that still merge R&B and rock with hints of funk and reggae. [No. 121, p.59]

Wire needs more of the barbed wit and brute anger that has enabled the band's best post-2000 work stand up to its iconic '70s recordings. [No. 120, p.60]

Their combined voices are just so unfathomably, incorrigibly all-devouring. [No. 120, p.61]

There is nary a wasted moment on No Control. [No. 120, p.61]

Jenkins continues his adroitness at transforming disparate juxtapositions of R2-D2 blips and bloops, deep bass drops into sonic sculptures that are futuristically dense and engagingly hip-shaking. [No. 120, p.61]

With Foil Deer, Speedy Ortiz fully owns its style, quirks and neuroses on a level that would have been unimaginable circa 2013's Major Arcana. [No. 120, p.61]

Kindred is fun, but best in small, sugary doses. [No. 120, p.59]