They have embraced mainstream success in the best way that would be possible, by sticking to a high concept and shredding their way through a heady, emotional backdrop while displaying their instrumental virtuosity amazingly.

The band simply sounds recharged on First Ditch Effort, a sometimes hilarious and often consistent return to the sound that worked so well for them well over a decade ago.

In refining the band's sound and style so effectively, The Fire is ultimately a resounding success which meets its objectives.

There’s some reassurance in that many of the more aimless songs sound like they would translate far better to the band’s true home on the stage, but here they qualify more as two-dimensional portraits.

A great vocal performance and solid musicianship from the backing band result in a record well worth the time.

Skeleta is the band’s most immediate and accessible release to date, it is also perhaps the least satisfying to early impressions, and recommends itself to a certain level of patience, paired with a prudent refusal to make the unflattering comparison to stronger versions of Ghost that populate their back catalogue. All issues thrust aside, listeners are left with a fun-loving, tasty-snack version of Ghost, regrettably lacking in satisfying meatiness, but absolutely caked in pretty frosting to make up for it.

Even if Lust For Life isn’t a game changer, it fulfills the potential of a sound that she has been slowly perfecting since she first entered the scene. The album, like Lana Del Rey, has earned the right not to be overlooked.

Restless Ones can’t quite translate their live show to record (2005’s Stairs and Elevators remains the high water mark for that), but it does perhaps the best job yet of mediating between the band’s ragged past and its veteran road warrior present.

For better or for worse--you'll like it because of the music it reminds you of, but you won't love it for exactly the same reason.

Dimensional Bleed may not be the monumental statement Death Spells embodied, but it is certainly capable of engulfing anyone willing to allocate it some dedicated time. Moreover, it reaffirms Holy Fawn's position as one of the most intriguing bands soundtracking the real-time slow-motion apocalypse of [right now].

The palettes on offer are frequently gorgeous and sometimes even transcendent, but No Highs' pervasive gloom and downer vibes render it more standoffish than the lofty fear and trembling of Ravedeath or the playful eclecticism of Radio Amor.

This is a respectable effort, with glimmers of excellence in many places. Indeed, this could well be an entrancing listen for the right fan, but sadly, for me, neither the atmosphere or the instrumentation is enough to prevent my mind from frequently wandering away while listening.

All these songs just sound too much like Gorillaz songs, in an uncomfortable, self-conscious way.

Physical Thrills demands your focus and immersion, a clear sign that Silversun Pickups are accessing their artistic side and perhaps better than they ever have before. What felt like a band in decline just a few short years ago has been given a shot in the arm.

Fantasies is not only a top notch record that effectively picks up where Metric left off at "Live it Out," but with a sense of genuineness that some of the band's contemporaries have lost.

It’s their most cohesive record since Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots, and its eternally exhausted realizations and powerful, if demanding, passages confirm that the band is as tight and concentrated as they’ve ever been.

Adams occasionally steps into a puddle of shallow adult-contemporary tripe that even his incisive personality and increasingly tamed voice cannot save. Those basic imitations of past great Adams tunes are few and far between on Ryan Adams, particularly when weighed against some of his other recent albums.

As bewildering as Will can be, the overall lack of structure leaves a large part of the experience up to the imagination.

His ambitions as an artist might be plagued by a fanatical obsession with '70s prog, but he's at least able to channel that infatuation into formulating a very well orchestrated and enjoyable homage to his beloved genre.

With a smattering of new influences combined with the homage to their own past, Metallica’s 72 Seasons is another solid release in their discography. It’s an album that feels more consistent and original than anything they’ve done since the Load releases from forever ago.

Trees Outside the Academy, as a whole, is not the musician’s best work, but it’s worth the listen for anyone interested.

There are a few tumbleweeds in the bunch (“Dirt” is curiously overlong to begin the record; “Showdown” fails to make much of an impression), but this is about as good a curiosity that I would imagine a Julien Baker and TORRES country spinoff to be. It’s evocative, heartfelt fun.

It's so smooth, this record, that it's sometimes too smooth, to the point to being slight.

The experimentation found on Life Fantastic, for the most part, works rather well within the gypsy circus that is Man Man but even at its best it makes one wonder what it could have sounded like without the meds.