On the whole, the band’s country-leaning indie rock pulses along for 49 minutes at a decent clip.

This isn’t Drake at his most exposed.... Production-wise, however, it’s his most mature, and frankly, most beautiful.

There are some missteps--the ballad Tripwire feels out of place in the general uptempo pace, and in (She Might Be A) Grenade, Costello lazily compares a girl to an atomic bomb (didn’t Green Day already do this?)--but when the album works, the band and the singer/songwriter sound more invigorated than they have in years.

Kiss Land is proof for the unconvinced: the Weeknd is a star whether he wants to be or not.

Considering it’s only 44 minutes long, MGMT’s self-titled third album feels much lengthier. This is partly due to the dense layers and constantly shifting textures, but it’s also a result of the abrasive digital distortion shrouding the psych-pop jams, making it a tiring listen even at its most melodic.

[The album] is not in the same league as his magnificent 2004 debut, Get Lifted. But Love In The Future, boasting production and writing credits by Kanye West, still has plenty of beautiful moments.

Whatever is driving her interest in self-identity is obscured by overwrought conceptualism and confused by a push to sound more slickly commercial.

2 Chainz likes to offset the raunchy with the heartfelt, but when the tone shifts to earnestly autobiographical, he sounds derivative.

Nobody Knows is a more complete, fleshed-out version of Beal’s vision, replacing his former no-fi folk with ominous, gritty blues and soul (not to mention a guest spot by Cat Power), but it’s still a work-in-progress.

The pair typically alternate between sexed-up dance-pop and psychedelic ambience, but Tales Of Us is their most pared-down effort in the latter category.

Tense, electronic, impeccably crafted and, yes, a little bit too long (classic 90s alt-rock), it’s a satisfying twist on the band’s legacy that doesn’t abandon its signature sound.

The album contains some of her best lyrics.

Vitality courses through every song on her sixth album.

Fun and charming in places, barely listenable in others.

It’s a more introspective, political and mature sound, but no less fun.

Taken all together, it’s a rousing record fit for serious-minded death metal fans convinced of the genre’s capacity to produce art--not just pained expression.

The Swedes have stepped it up in the songwriting department.

There’s no better way to describe the music than impeccably Superchunky.

It’s a meandering, angsty and deceptively gritty chronicle of the wonder years, but on repeat listens his guttural, conversational drawl and textured production seem to camouflage some seriously sentimental feelings.

Production, shared by J, Young Chop and Mike WiLL Made-It among others, at times subtly nods to the menacing beats of early Three 6 Mafia but is otherwise bland.

RTRWRA neatly combines those familiar chantable choruses, punchy guitars, pleasant harmonies and simple, clever lyricism--all in all, a great vehicle for that smooth, too cool croon of singer Alex Kapranos.

The sophistication suits the songs, which have a tragic seriousness without becoming a gloomy slog.

Created during Iceland’s dark, cold winter, Nepenthe’s intimate vibe immediately warms and envelops. In short: mesmerizing.

Hero Brother is a beautiful collection of experimental instrumental songs.

Despite all the gifted-beyond-his-years hype, that over-arching concerns still feel inextricably teenaged, albeit precociously so.

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

It’s much more in line with Shabason and Adams’s work on Destroyer’s soft rock epic Kaputt, with its smooth sax, jazzy rhythms and 80s synth pop, but Elle’s breathy voice meshes remarkably well.

The band’s best album to date.