Tranquility Base Hotel and Casino is the best possible kind of average record, one that goes out swinging. One that goes for it on every level. A record that, although it isn’t great by any typical metric, is extremely curious and entertaining.

Ruminations is ultimately a lamenting, low-key record. It’s sobering but never elevates higher than just a sparse collection of gloomy acoustic songs. It took just two days to finish and, for better or worse, that makes a lot of sense.

Bronson still creates a respectable hip-hop trilogy (not many of those), and gives us his most worthwhile long-player since 2012’s Rare Chandeliers.

AMOK is a surprisingly unassuming album in that way; each song has worthwhile hooks and accessibility is favored over abstract experiments.

For what Aa ultimately assumes itself to be--a glorified promo tape of talents--the result is quite enjoyable.

As it stands, Hang isn’t an unpleasant listen, but it’s an oddly frustrating one.

True Romance may not match Aitchison’s high ambitions for her debut, but it’s a hell of a start.

Do It Again is foremost a marvel of mood and pacing. The trio doles out their riches with utmost care.

Lurching drum-machine beats, gentle piano chords, and somber string arrangements form the musical groundwork upon which Albarn sighs about the encroaching dominance of technology. If you’re the kind of person who shares this worldview, you may find Everyday Robots an often lovely demonstration of post-millennium tension. If not, the album’s monotony can fast become punishing.

Although it exhibits significant growing pains, it still makes for an exciting and entertaining spin.

Real Estate remains precise and consistent, and they retain their impeccable ear for melody.

I’m hearing summer thunderstorms that threaten to wash the world away for two minutes then quit and get another beer. Dupuis’s bittersweet, teasing vocals feel like the gorgeous, blue, and brutally cold day after it snows three feet.

Skin is the sound of Flume reaching for great heights and almost grasping what he seeks there.

The record is weighty, but with a defter, more nimble touch than on prior efforts.

25 is not a bad album, nor is it an excellent one--it’s just good, that’s all.

The Inevitable End closes Röyksopp’s career with neither a bang nor a whimper.

The eleven tracks on the album, while almost uniformly unpleasant, all share an underlying moroseness sewn together by Bianca Casady’s unnerving vocals.

Sex and Food is a beautiful introspection and a far better answer to the day’s political malaise and helplessness than my usual response of embarking on an enraged and slutty food binge.

Here, as he seemingly aims for something like hard-won, grizzled wisdom, he often trips over his own lyrical ambition.

[A] near-classic, West’s Physical Graffiti, his White Album. The Life of Pablo makes the wonderful Yeezus appear minor by comparison.

Blood Orange’s sound is shaping up to be one of the most intriguing and important in pop today, and this sophomore effort is a promising progression for an artist who deserves more of the spotlight, but probably won’t ever demand it.

Sucker’s greatest musical weapon is Aitchison’s voice--a posh, melodramatic caterwaul that will encourage either adoration or virulent hatred for all of its full-throated, Union Jack swagger.

Lyrically, High as Hope forsakes Welch’s knack for vibrant imagery and symbolism for more human modifiers and concerns. While it allows her to share more personal information, Welch’s straightforward songwriting means there are no “Howl”’s or “Ship to Wreck”’s present here. ... Despite these critiques, High as Hope surpasses many of them to solidify itself as a decent record.

Tales of You is all rather beautiful, but also rather quiet.

Matsson makes solid use of a band this time too, to flesh out the bare-bones folk-pop for which he has previously been renowned.

This is a good record, where two inherently different musicians who speak the same language get together in the same room and produce something that’s as amorphous as the cover and as emotionally charged as the album and track titles suggest.

Rarely does The Documentary 2 feel, or sound, important enough to warrant a double album, especially not one that spans three hours. The Documentary 2 perhaps works best when Game suffuses tracks with growing pains.

This album succeeds in ways You’re A Woman never could have, and for that, it requires commendation.