A Place to Bury Strangers are adept at capturing a certain kind of aggressive energy, but too often they bottle it in middling pop songs.

His third album is likely to disappoint fans and critics listening for those big, emotional climaxes, but Matsson's career has been defined by his ability to find new ways to paint with a limited palette.

Although the flagrantly throwback Motown numbers are a bit warmed over, the album shines when Kelly blends his old-school approach with his modern club killa persona.

It's the near-painful purity she conveys in the high notes that surprises most, especially on the mellower tunes.

Melt doesn't sound fractured because of a glut of geographical references but because of its pieced-together nature.

While all the West Coast blue-skying might seem naive, the laid-back vibe makes you want to focus on the positive, at least for the album's duration.

Definitely a turn-it-up album to add to your summertime playlist.

The production has been updated for a new, not so distant future, but retains its mechanical crunch and metallic din.

It's more about sound quality and songwriting than the calculated brand-building of his recent releases.

The more aggressive bangers are effective, though Bieber gets eclipsed by everything else going on in the tracks.

The diversity leaves it without a consistent mood or conceptual through-line, however, and while Hogan's singing voice is, like the album, pleasant enough, it's not especially distinct or memorable.

This feels more like parody than an honest celebration of rock 'n' roll ridiculousness.

Their high and pretty voices tie the songs together in a way their previous releases lack, though they would do well to let up on the layered effect from time to time.

Apple's return to music is not only undeniably powerful, but Idler is arguably her best work yet.

A geekier and nerdier Rush? Yes, which is actually a very good thing.

It's all deliberate gazes, chins down and forced smiles, like being at your best on your worst days.

It's eminently clear these producers know exactly when to assert themselves and when to stay out of the soul legend's way to achieve the most captivating results possible.

Being authentically emotional also serves to reframe their earlier material, revealing that there've always been some truly moving sentiments hidden under the sonic reference points and clever wordplay.

Both sides are endearing in their own way, and both show off a musical legend with plenty left to say.

Their combination of new wave coldness and glam rock glitter is a formula that works well, and Haines has a genuine talent for walking the line between tough-girl swagger and fragility.

It has the vitality of today's top 40 dance-pop but is full of the kind of wisdom, wit and warmth that can only come with age.

Going for immediate and real, Young ends up with a disc that resembles a tentative early demo for what could have been a decent (albeit strange) Crazy Horse album.

Most of the album is moronic Mike Love nostalgia that makes Kokomo sound good in retrospect.

The production is just off-kilter enough to set them apart from the folk-rock pack, and they wisely resist the temptation to use their sprawling lineup as an excuse to imitate Arcade Fire.

They seem incapable of softening their sound, even when they try.

There's not much on proto-punk legend Patti Smith's 11th album, Banga, that would have sounded out of place back when she first started blowing minds in the 1970s.

What's missing is the emotional heat.

Impeccably produced, Valtari ultimately feels like two diametrically opposed albums.

The production sometimes eclipses the songwriting.

Each song spills over with a breathless, unhinged vigour that impresses... But taken all together, the band's refusal ever to let up on volume, bombast, group-shouted vocals, fast-strummed chords or smashing drums makes Celebration Rock an exhausting sonic assault in need of variety.

Hope is brought together by Pemberton's distinct vocal style and lyrics, which perfectly capture the disaffected, post-millennial, iPod-DJ, over-tweeted, quarter-life-crisis condition.

A couple of lifeless slower numbers bring the album to a crawl midway through, but they ultimately add balance to all the smart, uptempo rockers.

Once you get over the lack of choruses, you'll find a very solid, satisfying melodic techno album.

Garbage still have a knack for placing sticky hooks behind walls of guitar sheen, but when they slow down on Beloved Freak and the title track ballad, the results get a bit cringy.

he best songs on Rize Of The Fenix address that real-life redemption story....Still, it's hard to ignore the fact that the joke is kind of stale.

I Predict A Graceful Expulsion is not only immediately accessible, but also rich and nuanced enough to survive repeated listens.

At times it feels like she's stuck in one gear, but her energy refreshingly and irresistibly recalls the un-cynical era of old-school breakbeat and hip-house.

Killer Mike is the Jäger shot of rap: efficient, acrid and totally devastating.

The results turn out to be lifeless instead of uplifting and accessible as they'd hoped.

Ufabulum won't blow the mind of anyone familiar with his work, but it's a decent entry point for new fans and a very satisfying collection of light-hearted left-field dance music.

Brazen Bull is a cohesive, if lengthy, album that offers only occasional audio reminders of who was behind the board.

Just 30 minutes long, Castlemusic demands repeated listens.

Tillman's voice sounds sublime delivering lyrics about sexy graveyard encounters, ex-girlfriends and the dark side of California living.

It's not particularly deep, but it's energetic, buoyant, fun and more than a little infectious.

The results are surprisingly engrossing.

Bloom is consistent in quality, and there isn't a single bad song. It just feels like they spent too much time worrying about production and not enough time songwriting.

As always, the main appeal lies in how honest and real it all feels.

It's intentionally confounding and endlessly ambitious, but also eminently listenable.

While Adventures In Your Own Backyard can't be described as instantly catchy, its songs wend their way into your memory as if you've always known them.

On Electra Heart, Diamandis trades her cabaret post-punk vocal histrionics and thrift-store chic for an unconvincing Jacqueline Susann bombshell image and more overtly top-40-friendly sound.

Little Broken Hearts is held back by a lack of intimacy and the unemotional stiffness we associate with Jones. Still, it's almost a great album.

Pluto nicely refreshes current rap trends and offers some genuinely forward-thinking hooks.

Mr. Impossible is easily Black Dice's most accessible album yet, but that's not saying much. It's still very uneasy listening.

If Kill For Love doesn't make you a Chromatics believer, nothing will.

Despite the limited instrumentation, arrangements are thoughtful, and the 10 songs build slowly and hypnotically through repetition. Just when a sameness begins to set in, a handful of tunes near the end ... tip us off to the fact that we've glimpsed just a fraction of Mares of Thrace's capabilities.

There's tons of potential here, even if the disc feels like a work in progress.

My Make-Believe is a refined continuation of Santi's dubby, militarized, post-punk experimentation.

There are a few moments when Auerbach's production touches threaten to distract from the grooves, but the overall quality is so impressively high that the occasional misstep is quickly forgotten.

[The album showcases] her technical precision as a singer but reluctance to colour outside the lines.

He seems stuck between self-consciously chasing mainstream pop crossover and some underground ideal, and pulls off neither.

Builds on the quiet drama of their warm, melancholic, sometimes creepy sound.

It's full of breathtakingly beautiful harmonies and spiralling narrative lyrics that balance complex emotional subject matter with pitch-perfect delivery and hummable melodies

Thankfully, there are just enough flashes of brilliance to save it, even if much of the album comes across as a really expensive demo.

Curve isn't going to change anyone's mind about Our Lady Peace.

When the everything-and-the-kitchen-sink approach works best, Metal Moon sounds like little bits of all your favourite records glued together into one mutant disc.

By sticking mostly to introspective songwriting, the quintet ignores the strongest tool in its arsenal. It's no surprise that the most memorable tunes are the few where they let their fingers fly.

Though the overall groove ("Don't funk with it," they advise on QueenS) is freewheeling enough to avoid being preachy, awE naturalE is implicitly political.

There's still nothing particularly radio-friendly here and plenty of weirdness to go around, but more than ever the free jazz influences and pulsating drones seem designed to serve the song and not just enhance the listener's physical sensations.

An infusion of their earlier hazy laid-backness would've add more variety, but Tiger Talk is still an enthusiastic, confident follow-up from a band well on its way.

Their talent and impossible-to-fake passion merit the sudden attention.

Phèdre, combines the best of both projects [Doldrums and Hooded Fang], with impressive results.

With a band made up of old friends, Love has made a seemingly effortless record that reveals more with every listen.

It's an interesting listen but doesn't leave a strong impression.

A Church feels a little long, and getting through it requires a certain amount of emotional energy, but it's well worth the effort.

Relapse isn't their best work by far, but if you listen to it next to their genuinely great albums like Psalm 69 or The Mind Is A Terrible Thing To Taste, it stands up better than the cranky metal/industrial establishment--who've been dissing it mercilessly--would have you believe.

Unfortunately, her adventurous side is rarely heard in the more radio-friendly jams, which are heartfelt and catchy but less inspired.

The result is a poppy, polished, triumphant record augmented by backup vocals and violin from new member Miranda Mulholland.

The rollicking and densely layered samples send Muldrow--whose vocal style draws from jazz, soul and gospel--in an unabashedly funky direction, resulting in some of her most emotionally satisfying vocal arrangements and full-throttle rock 'n' roll dramatics to date.

Simple, lo-fi surf rock fuelled by Daniel Lee's charismatic, laconic singing and melodies as memorable as ever.

Long-time fans will appreciate that Napalm haven't toned down their extreme approach to metal.

They save overt prettiness for the music.

Veloso still sounds as smooth and warm as on his 70s recordings that helped spearhead the Tropicália movement.

The T-Bone Burnett-produced album admirably employs a nuanced approach and a consistent tone rather than using the opportunity to cash in on the film's young core audience.

This entirely live album is warmer and more consistent [than 2010's Harlem River Blues], with a lot of heart.

Less immediately rewarding than their debut, but worth taking the time to get to know.

A few breakdowns and builds fly off the rails on the clubbier numbers, but the better songs balance shiny, modern production with exuberant melodies and timeless songwriting.

At first, the complete lack of restraint and overflowing musical ideas make Busting Visions feel a bit like an unfocused mess, but once you get familiar with it, it seems absurd to complain that they've crammed a dozen golden hooks into every single song.

The compelling collision of a pop sensibility with organic guitar riffs, dystopian digitalism and sharp wordplay plays out like the score to a musical set in 2012 Soweto.

They've still got a way with grand, sweeping crescendos and haven't forgotten that the build is as important as the payoff.

Occasionally, it feels like she's trying a little too hard to reach American ears, but she balances the conservative neo-soul vibes with just enough hard left turns to keep listeners on their toes.

If you've been a fan since their early days, you won't be disappointed, and if you're just discovering them, Valentina is a good introduction to the influential band.

It's the strength of his conventional songcraft, however, that makes his late-career foray into the frontman role successful.

It's indie rock that actually rocks. From Brooklyn no less.

Doing lame imitations of other things that are popular seems to be the mission statement for Sounds From Nowhere.

It's a quick, occasionally dirty and sweetly affecting collection of ballads about ill-fated romance, the Bay City Rollers and letting go of love.

The result is a slick, accessible rap record that's about nine songs too long.

She may have gone a little too far toward conventional pop, and not all of it rings true.

These directionless, half-baked jams may show a young artist trying to find himself and mature, but he sure isn't there yet.