While The Collective felt novel and boundary pushing, PLAY ME, though similarly adventurous, aims to reflect our daily anxieties with tired commentary that risks dating itself.

While Vig does a commendable job in providing tasteful sequencing throughout Tenterhooks, the band sticks to a frustrating middle lane as the album progresses.

Megadeth's self-titled swan song is weighted down by its own sense of importance.

Where their songs backfire to a degree comes from bringing in ex-Chairlift member Patrick Wimberly for production duties. .... Still, they're truly at their best when their tuneful choruses come paired with a raw, stripped-down treatment.

Quality control has never been A$AP Rocky’s strong suit, but he remains a highly capable rapper, with a smooth, easy-to-appreciate flow. .... Rescue the highlights and move on.

The old tricks have lost their potency, and without them, the rage and Williamson’s endless torrent of expletives sound increasingly tragic.

The songwriting on songs like “Wake Up and Smile” and “Maybe I'll Burn My Life Down,” while adventurous to a degree, usually delivers the same result: the layering of a few sonic embellishments to rough-edged anthems that end up clashing against each other. But the main offenders are the most straightforward.

Ultimately, From The Pyre is the archetypal mixed bag, with glorious highs offset by some slightly concerning lows.

While they add a few new tricks to their arsenal, whether adding an extra layer of polish to their tried-and-true hardcore (SUNSHOWER, SOLE) or a touch of bright, jangly new wave (I CARE, SEEIN' STARS), their crossover attempts feel frustratingly half-hearted for a band that genuinely subscribes to the healing power of music.

In refining their approach, Horsegirl stumbles onto a new set of influences that takes away from their true identity. Nevertheless, there are flashes of brilliance -- Frontrunner, accented with a lovely twang, details a story of romantic yearning that hits deeper as it progresses.

At times delightful, yet not without its flaws, this is an encouraging debut.

Sure, the duo's musical palette is a little limited, and Phoebe Lunny’s nasal snarl starts to become a little grating after a while, but the furious lyrics and frenetic guitars certainly make for a fun listen.

There are jaunty little stabs at the band’s earlier post-punk revival sound, but even these are more of a pedestrian shuffle than an exuberant rush. Audacious is pleasant enough in a toe-tapping kind of way, but it’s still something of a misnomer. Elsewhere, the harder Kapranos flails around trying to recapture the magic of old, the more desperate and sad The Human Fear sounds.

She’s made some phenomenal music in her career and a handful of songs on The Tortured Poets Department are welcome additions to her canon. These are sadly outnumbered by bland filler and compromised by an overwhelming sense of stasis.

Saviors doesn't stray too far from what they've done in the past 10-15 years, but it's far more impassioned despite their pairing things down, proof that maintaining an agreeable middle ground with just enough anger suits them best.

While Link's observations are often engaging on the album, they can sometimes get lost in her sometimes-affected lethargy.

Ultimately, the record just sounds comically one-paced and disappointingly stale. As I said, Thorn’s voice is lovely, some of the little stories are smartly narrated, but it’s just nowhere near enough.

So, the record is not an epoch-defining instant classic. It’s just fine. Occasionally amazing, pretty in parts, patchy in others.

The biggest issue with Songs of Surrender is that U2 often fail to be malleable enough to truly stretch their wings and radically reshape these tracks. They too often, to their detriment, play it safe.

Both Welcome to My Island and I Believe are true pop bangers, and Smoke has an arrestingly powerful bassline that melds beautifully with her shimmering voice. Still, there are enough missteps for my palate that keep this squarely in the “just fine” column and keep me scratching my head about its overall reception.

The Achilles’ heel of this record isn’t the songs themselves but the production: drums throughout are blocky and distracting, guitars are washy and lacking personality, and the aforementioned synthesizers rarely fit the songwriting.

There are far too many tracks on this LP where I can tell Randall and Spunt are present–the No Age I know and love are deep down in there, somewhere–but aren’t engaged.

There’s lots to love but WE can’t match the power of the band’s first four records. Still, Arcade Fire’s returned rejuvenated after time in a cynical wilderness, ready to sing and dance against apathy. This album is worth it for that fact alone.

While she's developed her voice in the process, Designer being a shining example of how she showed her many talents with oft-kilter confidence, Warm Chris blends spontaneity and rigidity all at once.

Time Skiffs isn’t terrible; it’s inoffensive, nice, surprisingly easy-going.

There are some more subdued moments (the quiet standout Stumbling Bee) but on the whole Extreme Witchcraft is a frustratingly stodgy affair.

BRIGHTSIDE is no different: belt out vibrant and occasionally resonant anthems that are easy to grasp even if somewhat oversimplified. The nuance is altogether lost, though, like most of their discography, it'll win you over with its scrappy, can-do charm.

Musgraves plays up her lyrical prowess to the detriment of the instrumentation, which is crisp but generic and unremarkable. Neither is there much stylistic variety in terms of vocals or even the attitude Musgraves brings to her songs.