The lyrics on To The 5 Boroughs are, with a few exceptions, a dismal failure.

This isn't an edgy, experimental record. It instead explores human nature through conventional tonality and flow, delicately combining melancholy, detachment, and exhilaration.

A much more serious, often less danceable, instrumental effort.

There is some great interplay on the George W. Bush track and the epic of John Wayne. Other than that, not too much is memorable here.

A beautiful concept that's been beautifully executed.

While the lyrics at times retain the smarts and wicked humor that we've come to both revel in and expect, the romantic ballads more than flirt with cliché.

Except for the admittedly awesome surf-rock instrumental 'Reflecting,' there’s nothing done on Circular Sounds that you can’t find done better on old vinyl, battered mixtapes, and (shudder) Counting Crows albums.

It’s gimmicky on some level, and maybe formally confined, but the absurdity of these songs can’t mask their joy and evident catharsis.

It's very long and the songs don't really relate to one another, despite the band's description as "a subconscious concept album about the sorry state of rock n' roll." But Let It Beard certainly seems like a strong statement about something.

Although one of PE’s three focal points, Terminator X, is gone, Chuck D and Flavor-mother-fucking-Flav still have vitality pumping through their veins, enough to elevate a two-decades-old rap institution above the level most hip-hoppers reach once they hit middle-age.

It remains first and foremost a very fun album.

I don't know if this is one of the bravest or boldest albums of the year, but its definitely one of the neatest.

This is a rare combination of talent, vision and sound.

Harry Fraud’s production ensures that the EP is still enjoyable in a purely instrumental, non-lyrical dimension; I just wish that Action had stepped up and delivered rhymes on a level that these beats deserve.

A can't-miss effort.

Just to Feel Anything never quite seems to justify itself in the way that Does it Look Like I'm Here did, to compel you to pay attention in spite of its apparent familiarity, by whatever method. And as a result, it just feels like a lot of wasted energy.

While it does have moments where the listener is reminded of why they love power-pop, Together ends up sounding too vocally divided as an album and at times too top-heavy with orchestral arrangements.

jj struck a subtle and surprising balance with their debut, but this time around, they've withdrawn, letting their techniques dangle in the air, starving for justification. The effort is weaker for it.

The righteous Southern revival swagger of these electrified riffs collect over Jago’s drums to rain down the real rawk people have mistakenly praised Kings Of Leon for providing, absolutely destroying them at their own game.

Part rumination on engaging with the pop icon and part deep end even after eating the meal, Reputation keeps the ball in the air, argues for moving forward, even if it’s herky jerky.

Arm’s Way is a detailed, richly-rewarding album. These are undeniably melodramatic AOR songs--but they’re nuanced in form, graced with melody, and any obvious tropes are usually subverted.

Come With Me If You Want to Live never relents under the weight of its side-project status, nor does it pale significantly in comparison to more “serious” metal acts, nor is it in any way a piss-take.

This album does nothing to disrupt their two-decade streak of psychedelic, cosmic, post-rock transcendence.

Filching from the foundations of dub music to create a stridulous yet wholesome panache is something Vladislav Delay has been doing for many years, and despite purveying a rather ambivalent shrug with regards to its inception, he has fashioned on Kuopio an album that stands equally as tall as its predecessors.

Despite the mystifying veil that has been draped over the album, it’s an insightful journey that has our West Country enigma plotting past projections of the future with mesmerizing ease.

The subject matter on the indistinguishably titled Love, Angel, Music, Baby is painfully mainstream throughout.

Yeasayer soar with sublime choruses that are everything that pop has been trying to realize: high-art dionysian bliss contained in three- to four-minute bursts.

Cherish the Light Years is a breathless, versatile record from front to back, always oscillating between extreme shades of dark and light.