The album is plagued by similarly banal lyrics about sex and drugs that make his playboy image feel all the more superficial.... More positively, the poppier musical strategy perfectly suits his boyish vocals, and he sounds more open and less pretentious than ever before.

It's often a little too wacky and silly for its own good, but overall Personal Computer is a fun collection of weirdo funk pop.

It’s nice to see Aiko atypically solo (Common provides the only rap feature), but more variety would be welcome.

Mostly, though, the barely 30-minute album is a non-stop rager.

Rhumb Line gives the impression that mostly good things are ahead.

Barter 6 eschews obvious hits for what feels like an attempt at crafting a cohesive work.

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.

Things gets off to a pleasant, somewhat meek start, but bongo-touched Clearer soon stands out for its forceful, head-turning melodies.

For all the psychedelic brilliance, though, there is just as much noisy, self-impressed jamming that could have used editing.

Palmer seems intent on cramming as many ideas and textures into every song as she can, which is exciting at first but exhausting by the halfway point of an excessively long album.

The experimentation pays off.

Convinced he's some kind of rock revivalist, he's more Bob Seger, Skynyrd and Hank Jr. than anything else here. That works in his favour for most of the album, aside from a few misses like the generically foot-stompin' 'So Hot' and the gospel-infused singalong 'Don't Tell Me U Love Me.'

Scattered and uneven, but not without its charms.

It's garish and gross but undeniably fun, an audacious train wreck of an album that's hard not to enjoy.

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

It’s ambitious for a debut, and for the most part Miranda is able to keep up.

It suffers from a lack of focus--some songs are classic indie pop, while others are experimental musings rife with strange samples--but it's a fine collection that displays Thorburn's versatility and commitment to writing a catchy synth line.

Here True Widow dispel some of the pot-smoky fog, putting across a crisper, tighter, discernibly quicker sound.

With some exceptions, the songs truly take flight when Kindness cedes the mic to others, like Robyn or Kelela, whose voices add depth and suggestiveness--with an ease that eludes Bainbridge himself--elevating the album’s bland lovelorn sentiment.

There are a few too many “Get off my lawn, kids” moments, and the interludes are entirely unnecessary (hi, the Lonely Island), but as far as comebacks go, this album is anything but a non-event.

El-P's progressive beats here are full of driving, distorted drum sounds and rough samples; futuristic b-boy shit that walks a fine line between funky and grating.

Sometimes his experimental tendencies and pop impulses mesh perfectly, but the sudden shifts between abrasive noise and New Age mood music are heavy-handed and clunky.

The brief tunes are sparse yet cinematic, tentative yet boldly inventive.

The songs grow overly long at the end (the title track is a bit of a bore), though the album is consistently beautiful, if not always ear-catching.

His arrangements sometimes outshine his melodies and lyrics, though. Whereas the first album packed an emotional wallop, the enjoyment of this one is in its details.

Slick production (including Pharrell, will.i.am and Timbaland) and guest spots from Kendrick Lamar and T.I. distract from all that Lothario shtick enough to make the album a poppy, easy summer listen that grows on you with each play.

Fact is, the Enemy are better than that, and their debut full-length is also certainly better than some kind of classic Britpop rehash.

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.