The record is nothing new, but he somehow manages to make it all his own.

Even if it does cover too much ground, Clear Shot is another fine effort from a talented band who tend to get caught adrift in their own ways.

He's faithful to his musical vision, even as he expands its scope, though there's a fair degree of sameness throughout that makes it a somewhat monochrome listen. Still, it never feels like a chore to weave through Ross' honest, personal songwriting.

If you've embraced Clinic's reverberating panache for the past ten years, there's no reason to dislike Bubblegum's peculiar fabric. This is the sound of a unit that still has no intention in keeping up with the times, delivering more of what they do best with an already proven track record.

Here Before questions its existence as a new chapter for the band while content to see it closed, mentions of transition and introspection at the core of their story. What you can take from it is that its protagonists are aging gracefully and that, if this is their last hurrah, The Feelies are going out strong.

Perhaps the album hits its heights a bit late, but when Youth Lagoon's full confidence is on display, it's hard to turn away.

Root For Ruin is an album of decent, somewhat disappointing Les Savy Fav songs, but as its come to pass in the indierealm, any batch of Les Savy Fav songs is better than no batch of Les Savy Fav songs.

Even if the songs sometimes lack some nuance, as is the many thematic layers the band puts on display, Standell-Preston manages to keep the album afloat when she's at her most open-hearted and assertive.

Recent Meat Puppet albums have had an ephemeral presence in record shops, particularly in the UK, appearing on a variety of labels and disappearing from the racks not long after release. With music so focused on the transitory nature of things, it seems strangely appropriate.

It's a solid album throughout, with satisfying builds and a cacophony of beautifully symphonic music.

She follows her curiosity with abandon, deconstructing pop modalities with space and patience—from the strings-drenched chamber jazz (For the Old World) and the warped avant-garde of the title track to campfire folk (Spirit in the Eye of the Fire King,") her wildly eclectic, though sometimes distancing, choices sound familiar, yet completely their own.

Though not as conceptually absorbing as Bestial Burden, Contact is a no less challenging effort that seeks to find some kind of understanding from its listeners.

Once Wilco blazon forth their centerpiece, the remainder of The Whole Love takes a more familiar form that embraces self-assurance, even if those lopsided moments sum the overall experience.

Grace/Confusion is an aptly confounding record, its six tracks very much dissimilar to each other yet held together with a sense of grand gesturing and tireless virtuosity.

It's new, fresh, and energetic, all of which are not entirely surprising from an obviously skilled group, but it's in the execution that everything comes into clarity.

There probably aren’t enough moments that make the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, but after the initial struggle to get into, it’s a rewarding record to return to.

I Predict A Graceful Expulsion maintains a grounded, brooding focus that is designed more as a calling card to exhibit the next proper artist to warm the top of dusty stereo players of plenty middle-aged households.

Wonky is a very structured album, and although quality control may lapse slightly toward the end, it deserves to be considered a triumphant return.

If you’re reading this, stick with it. It has some real rewards in the back end--my only hope is that the songs were recorded in chronological order, to suggest that this is the direction Swift will take future albums.

The collaborations are interesting, and at times fascinating, but there is little doubt that the destiny of most tracks here will be, once again, as sonic accompaniments to visual productions.

While William Doyle’s career is undoubtedly on an upward trajectory and I am looking forward to his evolution as an artist, Total Strife Forever is hardly a landmark in electronic music.

Call it voyeur. Call it artificial. Call it exploitative. Just don’t call it boring. It’s the first 50 Cent album in some time that can boast that.

Rather than the nostalgic, distant wistfulness of last year’s work, Bem-vinda is much more open, and while there are complex rhythms and arrangements in abundance, none of this gets in the way of some eminently hummable tunes.

Cooder’s playing is sometime perfectly suited for the project, but other times seems horribly out of step with Mavis’ intention.

Screws Get Loose, is wonderfully tight and Those Darlins' latest succeeds with catchy, country tinged rock-and-roll with a healthy dose of humor.

Most of the songs on In A Warzone are full of energy, and it’s hard not to get swept up in the slimmed down punk rock that the album delivers with gusto. However, there is definitely a point where they start to sound very similar.

Most of Beyond the Fleeting Gales hits with a uncompromising positivity that often contradicts the sorrowful gentleness in her words.

While it can feel like juvenilia, it's in a very endearing way, a catalogue of the catharsis of a high-school misfit.

Lush marks the arrival of an immensely talented singer-songwriter who also still has much room to grow. It may not live up to those more exuberant expectations of an instant classic, but it’s still an admirable, skillful piece of music that leaves me excited for what comes next. In this case, Jordan hasn’t finished the race. She’s just arrived at the starting line.

Celebration Rock's high-tempo riff rock concerns itself with energy and embraces our serendipitous run-ins with those good times worth remembering.

There's something about how these tracks activate complicated astrophysical sequences dense with mathematical run-off that makes them have hi-speed, cyber-virtual effervescence.

It’s still hard to truly get Leonard Cohen right, and Thanks for the Dance sadly sounds like an easy approximation of his sound.

Overall, it’s an improvement over the yawnfest of "Takk," but not nearly as consistent as one would like.

While one could say the majority of Hippo Lite’s material is experimental, Presley and Le Bon placed their most avant and uptempo vocal tracks toward the album’s latter half, a block of songs that sort of run together before its closer, the violin-driven You Could Be Better. Consequently, the sequencing feels rushed and impatient. By Contrast, Presley and Le Bon initially want to show you around, the light and airy Blue from the Dark opening the door, slowly introducing you to their muse. By the end, it’s difficult not to feel as though you’ve overstayed your welcome.

The songwriting here isn’t just adding superficial layers to Matsson’s previous sound, it’s a step forward in style. So while that may make the album his most pleasing first listen, the dulling of the edges of his previous work keep it from being one of the more memorable.

It's hard to underestimate how big and strange some of this massive album is.

The EP highlight comes with 'My Mirror Speaks' recalling the band’s dynamic work from "Plans."

Deeper plunges headlong into its nightmarish source material with feverish petulance, insisting on the authenticity of its own sorrow.

This compilation isn't for everyone and does contain a few duds. But there are more than enough gems in here to deserve a purchase from any Elbow fan or fanatic.

While the production is as fresh and exciting as you're likely to see anywhere in hip-hop right now, lyrically it's a regression to less enlightened times.

There’s reason to believe that the kind of soppy, mellow pop they write just doesn’t have a place in our current times, that it reeks of starry-eyed nostalgia. But as every generation has a Seth and Summer romance for younger audiences to scrutinize and fawn over with episodic foresight, there will always be a platform for heart-on-sleeve songs to track the high and lows of a teen soap opera.

For whatever reason, though, the voices in her own head aren't strong enough to out-sway input from others, leading to a few unimpressive moments in the LP.

What For? is an ultimately perplexing collection of songs--a mishmash of Bundick’s best and worst musical ideas, but nevertheless a glimpse into an artist who is unafraid to shift into new sonic territory.

In the Cool of the Day is far from perfect, though. Moore's smooth vocal delivery suits the more minimal productions well, but it can become cloying when the backing track is too upbeat, such as on the irritating Up Above My Head.

The only real issue that Shura faces on forevher is that the record can be too much of a good thing. The psychedelic grooves that back the project can almost be suffocating, not allowing melodies or choruses to flourish on tracks that feel like a huge hook could bring them to perfection.

It's a solid, summery album that more than delivers on the tunes, and the LOLs, and you can't really ask for more than that.

If you have everything by the Scottish gang of five, this is good excuse to remind yourself of their genius in different circumstances. If you are new to them, then it is a fine introduction to a band whose importance and integrity over the years is unquestionable.

Its searing synths and chopped vocals can feel unjustified as a whole, but the songcraft is strong and the style supports some of its best moments.

It’s not always the most memorable listen, though through its free-flowing divagations we finally begin to feel more empathy for an artist who’s too perceptive to hide behind his taut guitar accents.

What keeps it from the top is the lack of musical surprises. Still, these twelve songs will keep you warm as winter turns to spring.

In honesty, a whole album of perfectly-executed retro soul can be a little wearing, but the craftsmanship carries it through, and the sheer joy of hearing a band go against the grain in the way that this band do, makes I Learned the Hard Way fully deserving of your time.

Though not quite the standout the band promises early on, it does end things on a mournful yet triumphant note. It caps off one of Pallbearer's most approachable statements to date, where they bring new life to their usual approach as they stick to their core sound.

He propels the masses into an apocalyptic party with simple and inviting gestures, even if behind the songs lays an exhaustive perfectionist who’s fully dedicated to his craft. That exhaustion does catch up with Maus as the quality of the songwriting loses its luster, especially during its second half, but his sharply quizzical thoughts do cohere into an involving whole.

Gore is a listen as complex and engrossing as we’ve come to expect from Deftones, and they continue to be a band that matures organically, becoming more and more fluid in their own craft.

A Hero's Death is not about growth: it's a band assessing where they stand as rising up-and-comers and having the impulse to express themselves differently. Maybe their sulking comes with a bit of affectation, but at least it's a convincing portrait of keeping true to themselves—soaking in everything that surrounds them.

Fever Dream may not be the most revolutionary electronic album of the year but as a whole, it's strong, and will prove an enjoyable journey for fans of instrumental hip-hop, triphop and chillwave, as well as anyone who is partial to the occasional moment of dreamy, psychedelic dance.

As with The American Analog Set, the music here is too quiet and specific to appeal to all, but I don’t think this is a bad thing.

Slight missteps do little to deter what is some of the band's most instantly likable tracks in their career, where they turn up one rave-up rocker after the next with wide-eyed fury. Having proven themselves time and time again, they've far outpaced those unwilling to grow up with them.

The good news is that there is no real filler on the album, but this uniformity of quality equates to an album where every song is good, but where few are really great.

Swimmer and a few other songs hint at what could have been, only to have the other half of the album play it safe. If only more of Tennis' songs took risks on unexpected palettes of emotion and drew from more complex poetic wells, then they might provide us with something special. Instead, they've created another enjoyable, if a bit rote and predictable album, like a relationship drifting into comfortable and boring domestic habits.

Boats has made something beautiful and invigorating at moments, while puzzling and slightly alienating at others.

Fading Lines does leave much to be desired in its implementation, though, but there are multiple hints here that suggest that this is only the beginning for de Graaf.

It’s more of an unconscious escape hatch that Lynch has constructed with intangible aural elements--a fantasy place that he allows us to walk around in for a while until we are forced back into the realm of the painfully awake.

Segall eases you with his unique charm, but he also tricks you, subtly cranking things up to remind you of his frenzied output. The tone remains largely indistinct throughout, but it also feels like he's begun concocting his next witches' brew.

This time around, his musings are openly candid and scarcely metaphorical, a necessary breather from all the stuffy, bookish references spread across his last two efforts.

Euphoric///Heartbreak is not an easy listen--as I've already alluded to, it's a convincing notion that this four-piece remain incapable of that--and while it is more theatrically anthemic than the first album, it is feels equally credible and sincere.

While this is one of Springsteen’s most genuinely energetic and exciting releases in ages, it isn’t constantly uptempo.

With Jinx, we get to see a promising band push their sound outward and gracefully mature, even if it doesn’t always floor you as immediately as some of Sports’ loudest moment do.

By mixing in a few lighter moments amongst all the dark the band do give the impression that they are on the way to becoming something quite special, but they still need to consider letting in a little more colour and variety into their songs before they can achieve this potential.

The unpredictability factor will cause some to turn to something easier on the ear, but if you were to persevere with 1000 Days, it’s very likely that you would appreciate it.

Their blueprint is a simple one, and QTY pull it off by being airtight from beginning to end, while the production work of Suede guitarist Bernard Butler seasons the deliciously retro sound perfectly

M.I.A. has now made a trilogy of inventive, engrossing records, but for the sake of music we'd all better hope that MAYA isn't the beginning of the end.

Sushi's main strength is the way it draws from so many strands of contemporary electronic music, but sounds like something else in its own right.

Overall, WIMPEE is an easy album to love, which, more than anything else, shows the trio's natural chemistry as musicians. ... Having chosen to maintain an upbeat, positive outlook to outweigh all the despair does big favors to the band—featuring a sparkling production that fits many, many moods—though it makes one wonder what could've been had they let us in just a little bit more.

If the new direction disappoints some old fans, though, it’s hard to escape the fact that Vanderslice is an original songwriter with a vision for his material, even if that vision isn’t clear.

Flasher may have the attitude of their eighties DC counterparts, but they ultimately channel their thinking person's punk aesthetic by attempting to rewrite its traditions altogether.

Patience is a record that never really takes off, but is a perfectly polished take on their thoroughly original sound.

Where The Volunteers falls down, surprisingly, is in the excessively slick production. Despite the ethos and lyrics, musically this is not the handmade, indie effort you might expect.

TWIABP demands a lot of your attention through these challenging, often dreary meditations, but they do reveal themselves gradually through close observation. On the flip side, there is no shortage of positivity either. It's a tricky equilibrium that the band embraces as they emotionally erupt over a fiery concoction of shredding guitars.

Those who love the group for their approach to melodicism and big hooks will find a lot to love about Tomorrow’s Hits, but those who still long for the group’s noisier days will only be further repelled and forced to stick with their first two albums.

The spontaneity they carve sounds scattershot at times, sometimes veering into ludicrous artiness for no reason whatsoever, the dragged-out seven minute instrumental Victoria a fitting example, though they always consolidate their full efforts in a way that’s fun and endlessly listenable.

If you hear ten seconds of any given song then you've heard its entirety, yet you haven't experienced the song. It's that sort of an album.

At first, it’s a bit off-putting how much Mulcahy has extended his reach, also considering its numerous shapeshifting vocal qualities, but once you recalibrate your expectations you’re left with an album that bravely looks ahead. It’s a fond return riddled with unbounded creativity, and could very well be his definitive statement.

While Wall of Eyes captures the trio at their most musically freewheeling, it also loses the ordered potency of A Light for Attracting Attention. Yorke himself has also reverted to themes of self-identity more cryptically, making less of an impact compared to his sardonic candor identifying with the everyday anxieties of living in the outside world's structured chaos. Still, it's clear that The Smile operates on their own accord.

On Your Own Love Again is a record about that struggle with transmuting feeling into expression. The grand themes of the album are heavily understated but, well, that’s kind of the point.

It's exactly what everyone expected this much hyped album to be like. We all guessed the Jay-Z appearance and a Wu-Tang member outshining the other acts on show. We all expected insane feats of arrogance... But don't get me wrong, it's a good album.

From beginning to end, Houck's voice crackles with soul, and his down-home arrangements are soothing and familiar without seeming cliché. That being said, there is nothing particularly innovative about the album.

Nanobots is, at the end of the day, a solid and immensely likable album.

Interestingly enough, Where You Stand may be the first Travis record that snugs comfortably into an adult contemporary format.

While the album isn’t quite the overhaul that quote makes it out to be, there are enough twists to catch longtime fans off guard. Even with eight albums to their name, The Hold Steady continue to prove that consistency doesn’t mean going stale.

It could do with one or two songs being trimmed, but there's enough variety to keep things engaging, if at times it lacks incisiveness. Still, my criticisms are largely comparing the band to their past work, which happens to be exceptional.

Sometimes, the results are heavily wrought and obviously worked over (the muddled instrumentation in the chorus of Breakers comes to mind), and some of the skittering grooves (the spastic tribal pounding of Wooly Mammoth) don't quite fit in the album's overarching arc. Nevertheless, the stately elegance of Hummingbird emphasizes how Local Natives are fit for the role of indie rock saviors.

Ratworld wears its influences brazenly on its sleeves, but its execution is impressive, presenting an odd bird view of a world that is ostensibly its own.

While there is no denying that Keep It Hid is the product of one half of modern rock’s most invigorating duos, Auerbach is able to mix in enough of his own spice to make the album a worthwhile affair.

It may not come across as immediately ambitious as her previous work, but there are no tricks or gimmicks that create this intimacy; it’s just clever production and writing that never outstays its welcome.

Mould's most mature album, and for that reason, it is definitely his best solo album, too. The Silver Age is not the best record of the year, but it is certainly one of the most unpretentious and easily liked records of the year.

Flash-forward to two years later and we get One Second of Love, which finds Gonzalez maturing into a graceful songstress without entirely abandoning what inspired her in the first place.

Glaspy’s voice itself is eccentric and susceptible to emotional metamorphosis, and some of the album’s strongest moments are when her voice is abrasive in its frustration or contrition: for example the first words spat from the chorus of You and I, or the frantic bursts of urgency amongst the affable stream of the title track. Sometimes, the formula for good guitar music is a simple one.