The result is a satisfying if not uneven release that never drags in its lament, looking toward the next ballad lost among the chaos. Richly produced fuzzed-face guitars and clattering percussion accentuate the band’s classic noise-pop formula without ever feeling staid.

Sweetly and unmistakably, That Lucky Old Sun limns the sunset of Wilson's career, while still showing how California is at its most beautiful through his eyes.

Issa Album needn’t be The Infamous, but it could’ve benefitted from a clearer and tighter direction.

Let Me Come Home goes widescreen with a vengeance, trading in too much of the band's unhinged jig and bounce for a more generic-sounding epic soundtrack -- guitar and bass to the front, strings in the middle distance.

Yet even this fits with Kid Sister's vibe of retro irrepressibility. Dream Date's every track virtually dares you to resist her.

Hooky, blood-soaked bad-love allegories such as "Draculina" and "Dine, Dine My Darling" (check the punny Misfits nod) satisfy like heartburn-inducing comfort food.

Peaches seems to be having much more fun with her sleazy subject matter. [Nov 2003, p.116]

If this album had been released five years ago, it would've been a blast. Today, it's the same new same old. [Nov 2003, p.117]

Barroom confessions that are more soulful, if somewhat less tuneful, than her day band's. [Sep 2006, p.106]

Pairing with producer T-Bone Burnett (who helmed 1986's rootsy antecedent "King of America") and a distinguished pickup band of country heavyweights, he gives his typically fussed-over tunes a tent-revival authority.

A primary-color blast of major-key melodies, airy boy-girl vocals, ringing guitars, skipping rhythms, brass, woodwinds, and rolling piano, the rather exhaustingly charming third album from this Canadian collective radiates with the earnest warmth of a child's finger painting.

Singer-guitarist Jeffrey Novak pulls off a neat stunt on the second Cheap Time album, bringing fresh life to the most timeworn garage-band conventions.

Accordingly, In Light is best absorbed in small portions, allowing you to savor the seriously catchy melodies and uplifting vibes.

Despite this abundance of raps about the unadulterated greatness of rapping, the Slaughterhouse four pull it off with extraordinary sincerity, and Our House avoids devolving into some tired treatise about how these guys make "real hip-hop" and other rappers don't.

While 2010 debut Treats was an exotic, overdubbed roar (Big Black-meets-the-Waitresses for people who give a shit about those references), and 2012's Reign of Terror winked through a heavy heart at Mutt Lange's scorched-earth sound field, Bitter Rivals is sly and sleek.

Though its list of guests may suggest a hedge, Echo largely hews to the road that's less heavily trod upon.

What you get on Perdida is a band that as they get comfortable with another new singer, is pumping out songs that are more reflective of who they are today.

Pretty.Odd lives up to its title because it dares to be optimistically beautiful at a time when sadness and ugliness might have won them easier credibility. [Apr 2008, p.92]

Heavy Rocks is a monolithic take on everything from trippy Funkadelic acid sludge to galloping Blue Öyster pöp to lightning-riding '80s thrash; yet it all billows fluffily from the same dreamy doom factory they constructed on 2005's Pink.

Return is neither a step up or down from 2010's wave-warping Causers of This or 2011's time-warping Underneath the Pine, yet it's not more of the same.

For all the squiggly melodies and bumpy computer beats, however, Smoke's strength is his spacey chameleon voice. [Dec 2007, p.126]

Food & Liquor II is fine and good. It's just not The Great American Rap Album.

To most listeners, though, Through the Devil Softly will simply function as a collection of breathily perfect lullabies.

A dark lark, but worth a listen.

Get Awkward's forced rhymes and attitude sound almost calculated. [Apr 2008, p.92]

There's no instantaneous party classics on Jack Ü – no worthy successors to "Turn Down for What" despite its obvious influence, but maybe a "Bubble Butt" or a "Big Bad Wolf." As a guileless continuation of the escapist, dub-tinged blowout that Diplo effortlessly pursued with Major Lazer, it's one of the beatiest prizes of the year so far.

Whichever side you fall on, King is worth myriad repeat listens: Dolph bridges the gap between his hometown and the Atlanta production that dominates rap’s mainstream.

A grand, sweeping album of heavenly melodies and rich, full textures.