Ultimate Care II doesn’t inspire one to peer closer into the musicality of everyday life; instead, you’ll constantly look at the time, wishing it’d sped up so you can move on with anything else.

The Fiery Furnaces are more than capable of producing catchy three-minute pop songs. They simply waited until now to do so, resulting in one of their best albums yet.

At times it’s as if the band is still trying to figure out the right temperament to base off of for the extent of a full-length album. The result is an uneven pairing of drive and control, and the latter tends to push them towards worn-out novelty with greater force.

Overall, it's nice to spend a little time sharing Kurt Vile's ongoing journey.

Mature, reflective, elegant and just that little bit haunting, but ultimately and most importantly of all, brilliant.

It ebbs and flows, and in the end, Native Speaker is a satisfying, invigorating listen.

It's also as if Gainsborough is processing his overwhelming emotions in real life, and though his erratic compositions are sometimes too slapdash to bear, his refusal to ever settle is commendable.

While Wand’s leap forward didn’t live up to some of the expectations I’d had via 1000 Days, the light and engaging Charles De Gaulle and nicely-arranged harmonizing in Driving wouldn’t exist if not for the band’s efforts to do so with Plum.

Their idea of a party anthem may be quick to please, but their unpretentious honesty and just sheer enjoyment makes a lasting impression.

Farm succeeds just where Beyond did, by being an absolutely awesome record. If there’s one thing that can be taken away from it, it’s that we can all relax now and let Dinosaur Jr. do their thing.

Barring a few notable tracks, this debut from Snaith under the Daphni name, fails to coalesce into anything resembling the creative designs of his previous records.

Heavy Lifter tried to take some new directions and added more heft to their songs, but not in the organic approach that True Love embraces. Like joy and true love itself, Hovvdy sounds best here when they use a broader palette without getting too far outside the lines—bringing more to bear and letting in quite a bit more light.

It's a collection of tiny, almost unnoticeable changes that make this record so much more solid than its predecessors.

Far beyond simply avant garde, this is one for the abstract devotee.

Very, very few people have something clever to say and the musical ability to put it into song. That leaves us with ten pleasant songs about nothing much in particular, sung by vocalists of middling charisma.

Fall into the Sun embraces a sparkling, melodic mid-tempo sound that is strung together with careful consideration. It's uniformly straightforward, sometimes to a fault, but the trio's learned experiences elevate these songs from fading into the background.

The music shines brighter than most of his pop contemporaries. In fact, the album is so successful on this level that I could choose any given song and laud it as one of the best tracks on the album.

The Belbury Tales is a solid record and a fantastic listen.

A damn fine album.

Untethered Moon is truly the work of a veteran musician who continues to tweak the same kind of song with the adventurousness of a curious young man.

The nine tracks on this record are nimble, charismatic, and ultimately make for an enjoyable if unspectacular listen.

With The Best of Luck Club, Lahey has surpassed the achievement of her fantastic debut, changing things up enough musically to keep it fresh, but without losing any of the wit or songwriting prowess that made her one of the best young artists working today.

A considered affair, brilliantly performed but rarely thrilling, with highlights coming in the form of hypnotic slow burners like “The Air’s On Fire” and the soaring finale “Moonlight Understands.”

While Palomo advances his songwriting by attempting a concept album, he fails to vary the songs enough to allow their inner essence to shine, to glow, to hook inside the listener, to haunt them.

Through their first two releases, Foals were able to showcase their evolving sound, but with Holy Fire, their evolution stops dead in its tracks.

It's not the first time a band of this stature chooses to find their confidence by taking it slow. But neither is it too daring or too unhinged; in fact, sans the slower, more methodical tempos, many of the songs still fall under their common pairing of doo-wop chord progressions and piercing guitars. So much of your appreciation for Tranquility may depend on how much you can stomach Turner's interpretative dance.

This retro carnival is a trip, but it’s also a downright mess riddled with poor songwriting choices that are disguised as clever.

The Pains of Being Pure at Heart can easily be at the forefront of this scene because, simply put, they have the best hooks.