A dreary dump of sad sack pop blather that makes poor use of the substantial talent on hand.

As Stuart Murdoch sings with literary precision about illness, isolation and striving for human connections, their digressions into club music and klezmer feel as restorative as they do celebratory.

The wistful elegance of the music makes Luciferian Towers a peculiarly gorgeous portrayal of our threatening political reality. Xenophobia is on the rise and we seem to be on the brink of nuclear war, but at least we’ve got this album to provide the soundtrack.

Where O was direct, raw and sober--cold and real in its confessional heartbreak--MFFF is aimlessly wistful and therefore more difficult to connect with.

As a feel-good summer dance mix, Sidetracked is fun and doesn’t rely on obvious monster hits to keep the momentum.

The slick production values and mighty arena-filling guitar and drum sounds will jolt fans of the New York City band's charming lo-fi debut.

It has a range of emotions, all showcasing Smith as one of the most unheralded songwriters out there today.

On his latest release, his driving, hook-laden punk rock is as precise as always.

Altogether, it offers a glimpse of what Parquet Courts could turn into. The future looks promising.

Her great success is making these protest songs personal, and she does it in a most profoundly moving way.

It’s middle-of-the-road, but only by Wilco standards. A worthwhile listen.

The shelf life of this stuff can be fleeting (ask the Darkness), but for now it sounds pretty good.

The production isn’t minimal, but Ørsted and Vindahl cram in a lot of oddball flourishes without distracting from her refreshingly unvarnished voice.

The abysmal Justice concert recording is relegated to the audio disc (also hiding evidence of whether or not Gaspard Auge’s MIDI controller is actually plugged in), while the DVD in this package contains the much more engaging behind-the-scenes tour documentary covering 20 days of bleary-eyed debauchery.

Each song unfolds unhurriedly--the type of music that makes you dance into a state of cathartic calm rather than frenzy.

Though this outing focuses more on the smooth, laid-back side of their sound, Circuital is still the work of a band that refuses to stand still.

Infinite Light offers mellow, contemplative folk-pop that never gets overwrought or fussy. The arrangements are stripped-down and intelligent, the melodies moving, the lyrics gently optimistic.

This is a top 40 pop record after all, and thus errs toward deafeningly loud vocals that occasionally obliterate some of the year’s smartest pop songwriting.

The production is restrained, leaving plenty of space for Staples's rich vocals, although some songs feel a bit too clean and reserved. It's all very pleasant but lacks the fire and passion we want from her.

It’s been a while since Fiery Furnaces released an album with songs that stick in your head. I’m Going Away, the Brooklyn band’s eighth release, is full of them.

Satisfying as it is in its old-school simplicity, its songs never really go anywhere, not so much resolving as dissipating like a foggy chuff of dope smoke.

Gareth's voice has gone from excited and jubilant to pained and miserable -– an uncanny cross between Robert Smith and Conor Oberst.

There's something cataclysmic yet meditative about the album, which is just seven songs long.

The songs are effortlessly pleasant even when they threaten to dissolve into the ether like the woolly memory of a sweet dream receding into your subconscious.

Farm actually bests "Beyond’s" triumphs.

Jiaolong feels more organic and warm than the kinds of bangers the genre's superstars are playing in massive arenas.

There's much at play here--personalities, loud/soft dynamics, noise vs melody--and Williams and Baldi strike just the right balance.

Overall, it could use more joyous highs to balance out the lows. But still, his classical piano chops mean there’s never a dull moment--even with eight-and 10-minute tracks.