JackInABox lacks the consistent flow of The Optimist LP and doesn’t match the sturdy songcraft of Ether Song.

Out West’s main drawback is pacing; despite being drawn from a trio of sold-out shows at the Fillmore in San Francisco earlier this year, there’s little sense of momentum.

Faultless sequencing, an array of clever (and comfortably familiar) beats, and a refreshingly optimistic, apolitical vibe make We Are Monster a keeper.

At times, Callahan's penchant for clever phrasings gets the better of him.

Everything Ecstatic doesn’t come together as solidly as prior Four Tet releases, but it unquestionably contains the blueprint for far greater explorations to come.

Granted, the world isn’t exactly better off since since the last Gorillaz album, but that doesn’t mean we need to be reminded of it by a loose collaborative outfit that will never be mistaken for the Clash when it comes to political or social consciousness.

The fact that a band spawned over ten years ago is so willing to try new things is refreshing, but with The Woods, Sleater-Kinney has surpassed even its most ardent supporter’s expectations as to the artistic heights the trio can attain.

As solid a listen as it may be, one can't help but yearn for a little bit more of the testosterone-charged hard-rock muscle that the band members' resumes evoke.

Face the Truth is paradoxically the most intriguing Malkmus album and the weakest of his post-Pavement career.

Be won’t win many points for daring, but in terms of user-friendly hip-hop charged by a refreshingly positive undercurrent, it more than hits its hard-to-miss mark.

An immaculately crafted, every-note-in-place recording that is as confidently executed as it is formulaically inoffensive.

In addition to simply being a package for the band's more obscure tracks, the album nicely spans its shift from folksy, melancholy introspectiveness to light summer-pop.

The Secret Migration is a beautiful-sounding record, but Deserter's Songs managed to sound spectacular and still work in adventurous detours.

Mezmerize is on par with 2001’s Toxicity as SOAD’s best offering to date.

Missteps aside, Magic Time delivers that familiar blanket on a chill winter’s day vibe, and Morrison fans will thankfully bury themselves under it.

Lack of energy and a dearth of hooks adds up to one of the most tepid releases Matthews and his crew have released.

Fiction finds Daniel and Eno exploring the tension between a tight rhythm section and chaotic production techniques (from messy guitar parts to bizarre samples). And that provides an edge to the music that not only makes for an attention-grabbing collection, but also rewards repeated listens.

Make Believe might sound more sincere if the clean, precision-metal production didn’t steamroll Cuomo’s lyrical misery in bombastic arrangements featuring factory-issue power chords and a MOR-safe rhythm section.

Considering that Fillmore isn’t drawn from a single show, it’s baffling as to why the slower numbers are bunched together and the more exhilarating songs pushed nearly an hour into the listening experience. As a result, the album falls somewhere between Thin Lizzy and Zeppelin on the double live barometer.

Cold Roses’ first set is by-the-numbers, brokenhearted MOR fare, sometimes maudlin (“When Will You Come Back Home?”), infrequently dramatic (the piano-driven “How Do You Keep Love Alive”) and mostly forgettable. The second disc redeems Cold Roses from an even-less-enthusiastic recommendation.

The range of styles is impressive, which trumps the lack of logical or elegant transitioning. Snaith may be showing off, but at least he’s backing it up with strong and memorable arrangements.

If 2000's The Friends of Rachel Worth was a tentative warm-up and 2002's Bright Yellow, Bright Orange a encouraging but inconsistent workout, Oceans Apart is the sound of two artists hitting a self-assured and motivated stride.

Separation Sunday isn’t quite on par with Almost Killed Me, primarily because it won’t stun listeners with its freshness.

Once the contrivance of The Forgotten Arm’s vaguely sketched plot device crumbles, there are still solid tracks to be found.

Reznor doesn't attempt to bludgeon the listener with either overreaching musical ambition or awkward lyrical poignancy, making With Teeth that rare animal: a Nine Inch Nails record that doesn't force a false sense of visceral urgency.

Throughout, Madlib impressively manages to keep the proceedings from slipping into total chaos. Even so, there’s a frustrating sense of intentional subterfuge throughout.

By the halfway point, it becomes too easy to zone out and for the music to fade into the background.