Sure, this is a relatively slight effort--those in search of adventure had best look elsewhere--but for the aural equivalent of a fluffy blanket, this is your crack rock.

The members of Viva Voce accomplish a catchy cohesiveness that's at its best when they allow their songs to stray.

The perfect antique Cadillac album.

From the band we never expected to evolve, there is enough sweeping ambition to have knocked us on our heels - if only the members had learned the art of discretion.

We, the Vehicles is ultimately too redundant to graduate Maritime into a more mature audience.

Even if Sov doesn't live up to the hype, there is enough quality material on Public Warning to warrant more music from the self-proclaimed "biggest midget in the game."

Keys to the World does have a few great moments, but it's not the definitive solo record he's been promising.

Campfire does little to surprise.

What's lacking this time around is the cohesiveness of the Konono No. 1 record.

you've heard them before. But it's not enough to sustain interest. The dead spaces in between just feel flatter in comparison, and those same hooks end up feeling disposable. It's a sharp, quick-burn of an attraction.

A solid first work.

Given that it's reassuring that he is writing and recording solo material again, it's disappointing that his fully finished renderings don't hold the same fascination as the sketches.

So Two Thousand is rich in guitar-disco atmosphere and tone. But it's weirdly lacking in personality.

What's really preventing Minus the Bear from making a breakthrough with El Oso is the band's unwillingness to head in new directions.

Discipline, is nowhere near the high point of her career, but it is better than its predecessor.

The record succeeds because of the instrumentals.

Ultimately, Beach House is a mood piece, finding a specific tone and lingering there for its entirety.

When Fish Ride Bicycles was probably never going to be as good as hearing "Black Mags" for the first time, but no one could have bet that it would be this boring.

In small doses, Animal Lover acts as the perfect antidote to a musical landscape often cluttered by acts too timid to truly challenge their audiences.

Mandell’s best, most varied album is hidden somewhere inside Artificial Fire. You have to dig through 20 minutes of brightly painted filler to find it, and unfortunately 12 of those minutes make up the album’s first three songs.

Sticks to the mold of its hook-y predecessor.

All in all, though, Total Life Forever is a slightly more assured record from Foals; this time out they sound like they've taken complete ownership of their music.

Here, Friedberger has once again proven his capabilities. At times they impress, but too often they confound, and it's beginning to seem as if he's too comfortable in his distance.

To be certain, the push and pull is lost through most of The State vs. Radric Davis, replaced by a straddling of the line between commercial and street rap.

Some of the tracks still don't feel like they offer enough.

The album's lows remain limp and strangely clinical, making its true promise all the more disappointing.

Perhaps Adams is just earning cheap sympathy with his strained, tour-weary voice, or maybe it’s just too thrilling to hear him revisit Gram, but Jacksonville City Lights does seem to come by its sound honestly.

Loose, sloppy playing and power hooks.