Hang appears as an album of ambition that outdoes itself so spectacularly that it appears as a jazzed up, Disney-esque caricature of its own end product.

Carter’s default psyche is an afflicted one, and his lyrics commenting on the migrant crisis typically don't pull any punches. On the other hand, his first steps into a more ornate sound on Neon Rust is a welcome change.

Hear the Lion’s Roar is filled with positivity and joy, and though sometimes the silliness buries some genuinely tuneful compositions, it’s yet another worthy escape that preserves Fair’s endearingly idyllic fancy.

While the range of tangents explored makes it a more interesting album, its lack of incisiveness prevents Lemon Memory from being called a better record.

He’s is nothing short of a chameleon when it comes to garage rock, and this is one of his most impressive outputs yet.

Both cynical and biting, Nothing Feels Natural is a timely and involving call to arms that promises great things from Priests sooner rather than later.

It’s impressive in small doses, but as Culture progresses you get a strong sense of deja vu, where each track upends the next with a petty familiarity that is just frustratingly repetitive.

Little Fictions is Elbow's weakest album since their second LP, Cast of Thousands. Despite the flaws, several tracks stand out among their strongest work.

What the lyrics lack (and they certainly aren’t bad by any stretch--simply not particularly strong), the vocals mask.

The result is a tighter and more collaborative sounding effort, and it shows throughout the album from the taught disco-funk of Telephone to the sunny and joyous brass-driven lead single U'huh.

It’s almost as if Pinhas isn’t quite committed to offering this much of himself to anyone, as if, in spite of this written and performed maelstrom of odds and ends, he’s proceeding with caution.

Ultimately, it’s disappointing to see how The Menzingers are continuing an unremarkable plan of action when they should be challenging themselves even further.

Tourist in This Town finds Crutchfield learning that travel or exorcism aren't solutions. Instead, she finds the solace in her craft. The words may be heavy, but she's found a path forward.

This is smart, meditative music that needs the appropriate time to vest, where further listening provides new perspectives and details that weren’t as apparent at first glance.

It’s an honest, soulful and superbly well-executed body of work, and one of the best British rap debuts for a long time.

Uniform’s American nightmare is relatable and honest, revealing the dangers of dependency, the want of escape, and the problematic effects one can experience while trying to end that bond. One can’t say that there’s hope within the contents of Wake in Fright, (one might even say it’s a tad overwrought), but it’s a story worth telling nonetheless.

It’s an occasionally uplifting, but mainly standard, declaration that suggests they’re currently experiencing a transitional phase as songwriters.

Not Even Happiness isn’t just an extension of the spare, if sometimes unremarkable, compositional elegance of her debut, Room With Walls and Windows. The production is slightly enhanced, and she’s also raised the stakes by featuring a wider array of instruments.

Swimming under the four-on-the-floors and blaring horns, the haunting vulnerability that defined The xx’s beginnings is as potent as ever on I See You. This time, it’s effortless.

Alexis Krauss is still a potent vocal performer, though the same cannot be said for an album that stubbornly covers the entire contemporary pop gamut with an an irritating self-confidence. It ultimately sabotages their own efforts.

Dupuis has engineered a candied vehicle to convey a highly relevant paradigm, and although its lo-fi sound means that the messages aren’t as bullish as they could be, it is sonically deft, and an excellent record.

Generally speaking, the beats remain hard enough, and the riffs have a sharp enough edge to maintain Woman’s effect throughout, and the elastic textures created by Augé and de Rosnay display a real lushness, warm and cold in equal measures.

It’s easy to make comparisons with contemporaries--namely the likes of Best Coast--but Stina Tweeddale and Cat Myers transfer so much personality to their tracks that a deeper, more lasting impression is given.

It’s an arc that she manages to complete with her conceptual solo trilogy, and though the pop chart-minded songs devalue the album’s more adventurous pursuits, Richard is still devoted to push her art in new, unexplored directions.

It does breeze on by without any major impact, but there’s a select number of pleasantly bittersweet cuts that are sure to liven up your afternoon commute for weeks on end.

Devil Music sounds like a compilation of unpolished ideas taken from scrapped recording sessions, and though it highlights The Men at their best it also portrays them as lazy underachievers. And they’re too smart to be labeled as such.

It's too long, with too many tracks that go nowhere. But those songs that do work are some of their best in the last couple of decades.

So Long Forever has a knack of sounding nothing like your prototypical debut album, with no sign of any unsanded edges or rawness. Instead, the album’s sound is that of a band that have honed their sound over a number of exponentially strong releases.