It's a complicated exercise in postmodernism, and one that is surprisingly rich.

At the end of the day, Bleach is still the weakest of the band’s full-length albums, but there’s enough good stuff to merit a spin.

On City Wrecker, in the swirling synths and bottled righteousness, you can hear Krug stirring the embers.

The band returns to The Power Out’s playground equipped with the chops their latest personnel lineup displayed on Axes. The album only benefits from it, becoming a more-than-worthy successor to both previous releases.

The Wild Hunt is a very good record, but it's not perfect. The album's second half, though unarguably beautiful, runs together like an extended 60s folk mix.

Two Way Monologue is an evident progression forward, but not forward enough. It is extremely similar to Faces Down and ultimately leads to disappointment.

Whimsical waltzing and barefoot stomping, warm 'n' fuzzy resurrections of soothing old-tyme indie-baroque-pop shimmies for sunset revelry, splashed upon buoyant, Northern African-influenced rhythms and shining with the silky gloss of a keyed-up, Eastern-Euro-tinged lounge sashay.

Random Access Memories is by no means a perfect record, but it consistently possesses an inspired, organic sense of a vitality, a quality that is often denied by the cut-and-paste status quo of EDM.

While they haven't completely redrawn themselves, Alpine Static does signify a step forward for Kinski with its unashamed embrace of guitar rock.

Hecker's freshest exploration of the life of rave death comes thoroughly recommended.

A diverse and creative offering.

Dawson doesn’t obscure his political predispositions, which are quite understood on tracks such as “Civil Servant” & “Fulfilment Centre,” for example. But 2020 is far from a soapbox, despite being clearly inflected by contemporary anxieties. Dawson’s characters speak for themselves through their lived experience.

True Love Will Cast Out All Evil is a rare example of a man finding peace on record, of a long journey being rewarded with a slight glimpse of salvation.

Cheena is phantom shamble, a reanimation of bumps that still make us shake.

Collaborations abound, and most of them work.

His rhythm work is crisp and earthen, not so much pushing forward as flowering outward, the picture of a mind focused on growing and filling out.

What Chaos Is Imaginary serves as an important document of the Girlpool narrative: a juncture in the band’s career that highlights the emotional (and in Tucker’s case, physical) changes its artists are reckoning with as their success grows in the indie community.

The only thing letting The Strange Boys down this time is a lack of vivacity. Their attitude is dripping from every song, but occasionally you’ll find yourself wanting them to blow their top, to unleash the energy they seem to be capping throughout for the sake of melody.

If you're willing to forgive a little lack of innovation and the subtle feeling that Spelled In Bones might be a little more mellow than it ought to be, there's one hell of a nice listen in this record.

Herren has actually cooked up a brilliantly soothing and entertaining morsel for his fans.

However, after one has settled in to the comforts of "Daughters," a shriek comes swooping down in the form of Daniel Smith's falsetto voice. Even on these faster-paced tracks, where Smith's falsetto demands less attention, it is impossible to deny this is the shortcoming of Brother Is to Son.

This newest Cocker incarnation restages this conflict in a way that establishes his continuing vitality and creativity and confirms that his sardonic wit has only sharpened with time.

Octahedron isn’t a representation of the best The Mars Volta are capable of, but it is a glimpse into the power they possess when they better harness their capabilities.

This time around, Chasny is clearly interested in writing structured songs with clear lines drawn throughout, with seemingly no concern for the reactions that might ensue from such high production and exacting precision.

Atonement is the name of the game on this record, and when paired with Tillman’s gorgeous baritone and humble melodies, the self-reflective end result is often heartening. Not every track here captures this doleful magic (“The Songwriter” and closer “We’re Only People” occasionally get lost in their own sorrow), but it’s commendable all the same.

Though C'mon Miracle doesn't have the truly standout songs that made Advisory Committee so great, it is still a consistent piece of work that delivers on quality songwriting and musicianship throughout.

Although Bird certainly isn’t breaking new ground in terms of his overall sound since his last album, he has still put out another solid record chock-full of witty lyricisms and lilting melodies that do a wonderful job of showing off his oh-so-smooth voice.

Save for the one glaring misstep, Punctuated Equilibrium doesn’t disappoint.