Air Conditioned Nightmare has fewer traces of the experimental Montreal loft party scene Doldrums originally emerged from, but it's not quite accessible enough for big festival stages either.

Everything sounds lovely, but the songs are too indistinct from one another, and there’s very little emotional range on display.

The emphasis on texture and style can obscure Dienel’s storytelling, however: it all sounds so gorgeous, you sometimes forget to listen to what she’s actually trying to say.

The band sounds like it’s trying to rejuvenate itself, thus injecting the release with a certain energy and vitality that "R.E.M. Live" lacked.

The inventiveness in James's vocals draws attention to the lack of that quality in Roddick's production, which grows clichéd after a while.

You expect the worst from Police faves like Roxanne and Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic, since those tunes were tautly written, with minimal pop intricacy. But the RPCO adds an interesting melancholic layer to the former, giving it more drama, as orchestras tend to do.

It's devoid of merriment and singalongs, and there's something refreshing--if not reassuring--about having a soundtrack for indulging your inner Scrooge.

Eschewing the indie rock tag, Born Ruffians are embracing a new diversified sound that reaches beyond the guitar-bass-drums trifecta, and for the most part, it hits the mark.

The album wouldn't be satisfying if it was just another version of Freudian. But Caesar calls the album an experiment, and that's often what it feels like. He's still figuring it all out.

It's a beautiful record, but perhaps not the evolution expected after a four-year break.

Bands in need of a catchy pop sound with a light edge should visit Chris Walla in Portland. The Death Cab for Cutie guitarist and producer can seemingly get this result from any artist he works with, including Michael Benjamin Lerner, aka Telekinesis.

Nevertheless, I'm With You is a strong record, with Brendan's Death Song and Police Station among the highlights, especially considering the challenge of replacing Frusciante's creativity.

Ferg has enough lyrical promise and personality to make him a legit trap player, if not, quite yet, a lord.

Despite solid production, the pop appeal of Nocturne doesn't quite transcend its 80s influences as well as Gemini's joyous, rough-hewn charms did.

Los Campesinos! are hyper-literate college kids out to make big statements from microcosmic situations, but the metaphors in the overly abstract lyrics often get away from Gareth and co-vocalist Aleks.

He’s much better at showing off his record collection on the well-chilled "Ice Castles," which purports to be a James Pants mix disc.

Each song is full of sonic acrobatics--sometimes glimmering, other times glitchy, but it's Weaver's voice that provides the heart and soul.

Skrillex-produced banger Go Off, Blaqstarr-assisted Bird Song and Visa are solid electro-rap party jams that also reference some of her past hits, while low-key dancehall track Foreign Friend and clubby Fly Pirate are among the handful of cuts that get stuck in filler territory.

The album is both challenging and rewarding. On songs like Fresh Laundry, Allie X’s vocals are often treated with high-gloss effects that steal the personality from her voice. It’s not until final track Learning In Public that you hear her unvarnished, which by then sounds jarring. It often feels like she’s doing too much with too much.

While IV shows a progression, it lacks the progressiveness that would keep BBNG in a league with their aforementioned jazz/hip-hop predecessors and peers. However admirably, it stays in its own lane.

Preoccupations don't fully hit their stride until album closer Fever, which sounds a bit like Heroes-era Bowie without coming across as derivative.

The fractured sounds give us little to hold on to; the songwriting's hidden behind so much distraction.

As the narrative grows sleepier, it feels as though she wants to see how much she can reduce her theatrical pop image into something small and seemingly impermanent.

The problem is that Birchard spreads himself so thin in his rush to tick off all the stylistic boxes, some songs sputter into half-realized cliché.

For an undisguised, heavy-handed topical Neil Young record, The Monsanto Years is actually engaging and mostly effective.

Pura Vida is more subdued (relatively speaking) than the group’s usual celebratory style, but the album’s best songs are still the most anthemic, the ones that sound the best alongside a hoisted, spilled beer.

It's more tripped-out and druggy, a looser version of the songwriting that gave Skeleton its immediate punch.

It's certainly not revelatory, but it makes no such claims.