Perhaps this release is their own way of dispensing with some lingering ghosts before moving on to something new.

Ital's sense of abrasion and his notion of groove are both finely tuned, so it's all for the best when they work in parallel.

Trilogy's triumph is in how it makes its three hours feel necessary to fully embrace it all, to acknowledge its existence inside ourselves and to vicariously live through it as art.

It turns any living room into an art installation where interesting things may or may not happen, and its lack of direction and specificity is in its own way brave.

While not as immediately striking as either Crystal Castles (I or II), the streamlined sound allows more maneuverability and subtle variety in the actual songwriting.

It sounds exactly like what a fan of Bailiff would hope for, while offering something new and distinct.

This is a cherry on a cupcake.

The Bears for Lunch, however, is the most consistent of this year's trifecta. It may not boast an instant, indeliable earworm like Class Clown's "Keep It Motion" or Factory's "Doughnut for a Snowman", but there are no buzzkill duds like "The Big Hat and Toy Show" either.

As Free Reign shows, when Clinic take their time, they can build up a bewitching groove.

For the most part, the analog warmth of live instrumentation is employed thoughtfully, reminiscent, in some places, of some of the best tracks on Oddisee's fantastic Rock Creek Park.

End of the World still isn't quite as fun as it could be, as the Larson sisters slip back into old habits on a string of tracks that are too reminiscent of last year's Trust Now.

The Man With the Iron Fists OST is a strong album and certainly the best Wu-affiliated product since Only Built 4 Cuban Linx... Pt. II, but it never strives to be awesome. And for a RZA project, that means it can't be great either.

Smalhans is a reliably generous gesture from an artist that takes pleasure in indulging himself and his audience.

Deer Creek Canyon is a deft fine-tuning of her meandering rustic tendencies, the tweaks so minor and carefully placed they're at first nearly imperceptible.

Rave Age makes you wish you were listening to other songs.

This album sounds every bit as absurd, chaotic, and exhilarating as it did 14 years ago.

Critcheloe's songs and productions are pleasant and utilitarian-- if any of these came on at the right moment on the right dance floor, you'd wanna dance-- but ultimately insubstantial, fizzing out of one's memory almost as soon as they're finished playing. Still, there are some nice touches.

It's not unlike the effect of the Grateful Dead or even drone music, where subtle changes within a much bigger system provide thrills beyond the surface. That said, Atra Mors isn't an easy or amicable listen.

Even if Burning Daylight occasionally slips into shtick, Cowgill is still a good songwriter who can evoke a dark mood and the big, warm, beating heart underneath it.

Rather than dismiss Just to Feel Anything as a mistake, perhaps it's better to think of it as a mixed detour, one that some of the band's followers might in fact welcome.

The main issue here is a distinct and debilitating lack of craft.

We're left with some pretty pictures for our refrigerators and some worthwhile domestic jams, but little to be excited about.

Vasquez's knack for atmosphere was there from the beginning, but he's becoming a better, more defined songwriter.

The many guests on Young Hunger prevent the album from getting too bogged down in schmaltz, adding color and texture to the record.

The overly fussy, played-too-safe System Preferences seems to be begging for a bit of Earlimart's old weirdness, an oddly placed bridge, a couple of bum notes, a "Burning the Cow", something. Without it, this record winds up feeling a little too perfect for its own good.

Loneliness aside, Come Home to Mama is not a somber affair. Credit's partly due to new producer Yuka Honda from Cibo Matto, who freshens up the sound considerably.

There's no overall sense of narrative to Order of Noise, but the depth of the production leaves itself open to interpretation.

The moments of goodness and light here bump up against plenty of songs that are depressing or otherwise unseasonal-feeling. You're happy to get the present, but it's not exactly what you would've asked for from Santa.