While it undoubtedly holds some of the strongest songs of his career, it doesn’t entirely fulfill the promise of a conceptual framework.

It’s not shocking that the band delves into unreleased material by Yo La Tengo’s James McNew or an ultra-obscure single by mid-70’s underground band Mirrors. Elsewhere though, the band’s early country roots come to bear on George Jone’s Where Grass Won’t Grow, and the gentle drift of Stevie Wonder’s Golden Lady appeal to fans of the band’s minor key mid-period. Worthwhile and weird.

It's a heavy theme to handle, but thankfully (or perhaps to its chagrin), most of these topics go unnoticed if you submit to its simple guitar-pop pleasures.

The album is stacked with jaw-dropping moments, underpinned by seismic emotional shifts.

The tightest tunes here tend to be the mid-tempo ones, or the ones with the cleanest production.

There’s no denying that the elements that make up Nobody knows. are profoundly captivating, from the album's rich sonic detail to Beal’s reliably powerhouse vocals and personality. But as refined as these elements are, they still don’t quite add up to make the excellent record that many of us are still waiting for Beal to finally make.

Hard to call this a debut in the hands of such accomplished musicians, but the sublime far outweighs the average here and gives hope for further chapters

Talahomi Way is so strongly rooted in a sense of location that it makes little sense in transit on a pair of headphones, where its fine detail is compressed and channelled directly into your ears, and the images painted by the lyrics are forced to compete with your own changing scenery. Music like this needs to inhabit a space, preferably a sunny one.

Their overzealous sense of accomplishment can't be denied, especially when the album itself manages to never skip a beat.

The hazy production in Sunbeams does, to an extent, water down some of Parks' poetic musings and reduce them to pleasant background music. Even if there are hardly any low points here, the forceful sentiments of past songs like Angel's Song and Romantic Garbage are sorely absent—both of which are just mellow as this project but more musically rewarding.

All in all, a departure from recent forays into overt commercialism that doesn't always work but provides a little U2 juice to keep the true believers happy for a little bit longer.

Different Creatures is likely to prove too nostalgic to win over critics of 00s ‘indie landfill’, and Circa Waves still lack the spark that is going to reignite British guitar rock, but that won’t matter for most fans of their debut. This is another exciting, polished album that's destined for outdoor stages.

It takes the music of Hauschka perhaps into more populist directions, but the experiment and joy still survive.

Ultimately, The Balladeer is a solidly enjoyable record, one that captures McKenna’s voice and style nearly perfectly.

Ukulele Songs can aptly be summed up as Vedder's pensive doppelganger which has been peeking out sporadically over the past decade or so, with none of his Pearl Jam-rage presenting itself here.

Underwhelming ending aside, it’s fair to say that Del Rey (and her collaborators) have more than risen to the challenge of keeping her a part of the pop culture conversation, for all the right reasons.

Where The Heaven Are We is a solid start for B-Town’s latest export, and when considered the almost fainéant construction, there’s probably a lot more to come from this lot.

Yeah, Minks has churned out an enjoyable full-length debut, but there's an ever-present possibility that it'll get lost in the mess--much like the standout moments on By the Hedge, there's always a haziness enveloping everything like a dense fog.

It's a record that's quite open to cynicism--Exmilitary is easy to dismiss as excessive and carelessly noisy. It's going to polarise listeners, but it's useless to criticise it for being so angry and unlistenable because that's Death Grips' prerogative.

Panda Bear Meets the Grim Reaper can be a particularly infuriating listen since it wanders between moments of greatness and utter tedium.

It's quite good. It just feels like it should be-and wants to be-better.

Gang of Four's latest is a consistently interesting and passionate record that illustrates their continuing relevance. What more could you reasonably ask for?

Lover is a plethora of things: a Taylor Swift genre sampler, an argument that Jack Antonoff is her best collaborator, a continuation of her problem with lead singles, and a collection of great synthpop songs, but the best part of it is that Taylor seems like she’s never been better. She’s unburdened by love, and that explosive happiness makes itself present across this record.

Curiously, Omni could welcome some balance into their arrangements; they’ve already figured out a way to structure their lopsided ideas, which is a crucial element that most aspiring experimental bands with a pop slant struggle with in the first place. And that’s something that cannot be taught.

There are few bands that can match Royal Blood at their heavy, melodic best, and How Did We Get So Dark? proves to be a thrilling--if limited--listen from one of the UK’s fastest-rising rock bands.

It shows off a fantastic songwriting talent, if not conveying the live magic.

Some of the clever songwriting is still intact and that rescues an otherwise middle of the road affair.

It bears to be dissected because it is pretty much all over the place, even if what they wanted to achieve could be stored inside a magical pot of gold.