Lindstrom is becoming increasingly diverse; but his style is immediately recognizable--probably as good a proof of artistic development as there is. Cheap and dirty, he still shines.

The whole thing is pretty, if a bit mild, suggesting not quite another green world, but something ideal for--as its cover art suggests--watching autumnal leaves turn.

MGK is a talented rapper, but here, on his major label album, he sounds hollow.

There's real drama in the band's sweeping crescendos and ringing guitar chords; there's something genuinely affecting in their newfound emo overtones.

As the overwhelming bulk of Luxury Problems demonstrates, the producer might've learned how to marshal all the dark, weird stuff boiling inside him, but he's not about to relinquish it any time soon.

Overall, Dimension has some solid moments and no outright duds, but it works better as the basis for a playlist than as a start-to-finish album.

The details change, but the heaviness remains.

Despite plenty of practice as a contributor to Rick Ross' Maybach Music Group compilation series Self Made, Meek's label debut lacks viable singles.

Music remains the Coup's ultimate sweetener, and here the jams hit hard like the words--from the big beat of opener "The Magic Clap" to the grimy guitar on "Land of 7 Billion Dances," departures from the smooth, soothing funk that was once this outfit's specialty.

The results are the most pleasant kind of rambling imaginable.

From beginning to end, Caspian use their structural savoir faire to keep things moving, rarely giving in to passing fancies or individual showmanship.

Some will find it a disappointing follow-up to one of the great rock records of the past few years. Some will jump around and pump their fists to every chorus without giving the lyrics much thought; some will live and die by every word. Some will even find it all kind of funny. Nobody is necessarily wrong.

Whatever it is, this music is full of adult pleasures.

Despite the absence of percussion, it moves as steadily as a mountain stream, a reminder of the pulse connecting club music with a much vaster world beyond. Now, more than ever, we need the long view glimpsed through Pink's rose-tinted rave goggles.

Like a lot of young artists who've been flash-fried by the Internet, these guys also aren't so much great as they are getting better, using public interest to spur themselves on. Bossalinis is cleaner and more varied than their mixtapes, but this album is also long.

Amid all that cultural confusion basking in a neon glow, Mala in Cuba is a welcome relief, an artist reveling in his uncertainty and building it into something original and authentic.

It's a completely exhausting listen, one that might prove easier to admire than enjoy. But at the very least, it's never anything less than fascinating.

The Haunted Man is her weightiest work so far.

It's pleasant, soothingly warm water, sure, but you probably won't want to soak for too long.

For all his three relationships spanned and catchy tunes composed, Gibbard is too nice to dish it out, and too bland to reveal any meaningful lessons learned.

That Converge can dabble in so many styles and still inherently come out sounding like themselves is what makes All We Love work.

While other possible sonic antecedents abound, the full album feels more roots than retro, old tools reclaimed to new ends.

At his best - "The Veldt," "Closer," and "Channel 42," which has a nice, Cameo-like wah-funk wiggle - Deadmau5 is a topflight roots-of-EDM mimic. At his worst, he's a troll.

He sounds as if he's just seen his own specter in the mirror, but no worries--records don't get much more alive than this.

Pink works best as a one-woman army.

The band's interplay has grown both more varied and intuitive.

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

Miguel has impeccable songwriting chops and a deceptively supple voice, not to mention total command of both.