After a while the tripped-out builds can feel formulaic, but the mind-altering textures and melodic flourishes are so gorgeously realized that Luminous’s feel-good charms become hard to resist.

Her domestic bliss songs are predictably the most boring, the exception being L8 CMMR, the dancehall-esque, Auto-Tuned track in which she sings of her husband’s virility.

There are no big hooks, no clear single. Just a boozy-and-woozy late-night vibe that’s pretty damn satisfying.

Even when they get quiet and contemplative, there’s a raw urgency that keeps the energy visceral.

The songs are still there, though, even more so than on 2011’s Diaper Island.

On their third album, Band of Skulls stretch even further.

At 18 tracks, Honest doesn’t feel bloated. Future takes his time on slow, sensitive jams.... But for every tender ballad, there’s a classic Future banger in which he yelps the hook over and over, lest you forget it, on top of harsh beats.

Though deftly orchestrated, Everyday Robots feels deflated and aimless, and the nature-versus-technology theme frequently results in clichés.

Despite Azalea’s nimble delivery sometimes lapsing into the mechanical, there are moments on The New Classic when she sounds ready for prime time.

SZA’s lyrics are impressionistic, and her melodies arrive in fits and spurts.

Alsina’s narrative-driven niche is criminally underrepresented on the pop charts right now. Judging by the way he effectively turns his wounded past into the catalyst for a bright future--he has potential to dominate the lane.

The band’s second album has terrific production values, and beneath all the industrial edges and gothic stomp, Dean Tzenos’s vocals are surprisingly melodic.

It might have fewer surprises and off-kilter oddities than we’d hoped for, but it definitely won’t kill your buzz.

A couple of songs sound like Much More Music hits (Breakfast, Forever Be), but a few genuine surprises--the Simon & Garfunkelesque cover of Labi Siffre’s Bless The Telephone, the slow-burning Floyd and country-rocking Friday Fish Fry--demonstrate Kelis’s deft versatility.

Throughout the nine tracks, the band maintains a grown-up punk sound rooted in air-tight musicianship.

However varied the influences, there’s one thing the songs have in common: they all make you feel some type of way.

Even though the chords are minor and the mood sombre, there’s something pure, clean and uncluttered about the record that prevents it from being altogether sad. It breathes.

Sometimes Barzin’s singing is soft and serious, others times dreamy and wistful. Immaculately arranged, it’s an album you settle into, then relax into.

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.

Emancipated Hearts’ chilled-out songs are strong, though, built on solid, simple melodies and weary, disillusioned lyrics.

His focus on high-quality, vintage synth sounds gives the songs a unique flavour and energy that are hard to resist.

Overall, the record is buoyed by relentless exuberance and good-natured charm.

A huge part of her appeal is how authentically she manages to channel the intensity of adolescent angst, which makes lines that should be cringe-inducing feel too real to critique.

Even as the songs delve deeper into the funhouse, there’s almost always an earworm leading you out of the fog.

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.

Less party than their live show (and some of their previous releases), Inner Fire is still damn hot.

On Hot Dreams he’s wisely pulled back from that horror film soundtrack vibe to let the songs breathe.

While the tone keeps the wistful summer vibes of his earlier work intact, the Brooklyn-based Canadian also gets reflective on this dud-free second full-length.