The vocal hooks and catchy choruses that have brought Nada Surf this far have only gotten better.

Infinite Arms isn’t nearly as charming nor nearly as emotive as the band’s other work. It’s an image of a band that’s exhausted their aesthetics to a point of sterility, and it’s going to take a lot of soul-searching and reinvention to figure out where to go next.

What Nights possesses in skillful precision and tight musicianship it lacks in songwriting polish, though it’s easy to dismiss when it hits you with its triumphant highs.

Pyramids leaves its mark as an extremely remarkable and impressive début, and once heard, is unlikely to be forgotten.

Strapped's thirty-something minutes of southern California rock doesn't turn the page on anything new, but is still a worthy listen. The album holds true to the band's striped-down signature sound from their last two albums, with a sprinkling of a few stand out tracks.

This is a strong, satisfying record that will comfortably consolidate the band’s reputation as a genre favourite.

Street of The Love of Days is intimate and serene, sometimes pastoral, but there's nothing here that would make you miss the city, unless you hate bonfires and the crisp rustle of autumn leaves.

In an indie-rock landscape where so many bands climb to eminence on the shoulders of pseudo-academic attention-seeking, a shrug and a good pulse can go a long way.

This collection of moods and moments is one of the year's most engaging listens.

However many crystalline moments of beauty their records contain (and of course there are some to be found here), for me there remains a cloying sense of the overtly melodramatic, of uninventive repetition that it is hard to ignore.

Original Colors isn't extraordinary music.

It has ten passable tracks and one certified super-smash that will either get listeners gleefully singing-along or reaching for the skip button. You decide.

Even if his insecurities can illicit a few cringes (he sounds genuinely upset with his haters on All The Shine), there's enough empowered anthems like Bonfire and Outside for Childish Gambino to pull through.

It shows a refreshed band, back on the chase to find new ways of songwriting, with strong melodies and intriguing lyrics remaining a constant. I’ll Be Your Girl is the start of this new chapter, and it’s a wonderful place for them to begin again.

There’s promise here to be sure, but it’s a promise as yet unfulfilled.

In the end, Memory Almost Full is a reliable, easy record for a man who’s been far too reliable for his own good.

Still, three CDs of good-to-great music is a pretty acceptable ratio, and while this is not meant for the casual Cure fan, it’s an essential purchase for the hardcore ones.

Everyone will find something appealing about Dananananaykroyd, no matter how small, but it’s difficult to imagine anyone truly loving this record, regardless of whether they judge it by its cover.

There is real sorrow and feeling amongst all the fun and the record will hopefully see Hunx gain some of the attention that is way over due.

It Won't Always Be Like This is a competent first effort with superbly crafted and unpretentious songs—even if they still haven't quite found the sound that they’re looking for.

Smokey is lengthy, as are all of Banhart’s albums, but make it to the last track and the reward is reminiscent of Banhart’s infallible 2004 album, "Rejoicing in the Hands."

Still, true to their L.A. roots, they can't quite abandon the love-stricken cliches taken from their eighties influences, from revisionist West Hollywood glam (Heartbeat Away) and Bomp! records-inspired rock (Rebound City, which sounds like a homage to 20/20's Beat City) to tight, driving rhythms (Real Life).

Reviewed as a whole album though, it must concede that buying Be Brave would be like paying for two songs played at different speeds and in different keys fourteen times over, an unwise choice that would eventually leave many wondering just what the hell is so different between Friday in Paris and Da Da anyway? I've got to tell you, after these past couple days, I can barely even tell anymore.

Notes on a Conditional Form is a fantastic 12 track, 45-minute album. It’s just a shame that The 1975 decided to make it into a 22 track, 80 minute one. There’s certainly enough going on to recommend repeat listens, but the quality level waxes and wanes so much throughout that it won’t take you too long to find your favorites and start returning to just those.

While California Nights doesn’t offer a more sophisticated version of Best Coast so much as a blander one, the heightened ambition of the songwriting and production could be an important step forward for the band.

It’s beautiful background music at worst but much more if it is given the attention it deserves.

So much of Iz just blends together into a balmy, gelatinous goop of trap-flavored maquettes that could’ve come from anyone, let alone Big K.R.I.T., someone who I have always looked towards for quality bangers.

All in all, Painting With feels just far too interpolated, and even familiar, to truly grasp, though through its failures it manages to somehow bring them one step closer to achieving those awe-inspiring moments of yore.