WE STILL DON'T TRUST YOU is a nearly 90-minute sprawl divided into two parts.

Fun sonic flourishes abound, like the heady call-and-response of "Incognito" or the winding melody that gives "Explorer" a phantom of the discotheque vibe, but ultimately, Hyperdrama is neither catchy enough to play to the duo's pop strengths nor bold enough to highlight Justice's experimental skills.

The first half verges on sluggish -- the call to "Release the pressure -- big, big fun" comes across as unenthusiastic, maybe even sarcastic -- but most of the songs do have an alluring quality. There's considerably more verve and buoyancy to the second half.

While the feelings here are melodramatic and overexpressed, sometimes to the point of ridiculousness, this also has some of Swift’s best work, and much of the best pop music ever made.

Jim White is undoubtedly a masterful musician, but All Hits: Memories never quite gets off the ground, and it feels like the type of record that might be of interest to fellow drummers but will have limited appeal for anyone else.

Time will tell if Lavers is snatched up for work in scoring or if he will develop his songwriting on future albums, but based on this under-30-minute taste, his handiwork seems destined for continuation.

It finds the rap luminaries more or less staying in their respective lanes. Metro Boomin's beats are typically cold and ominous yet lustrous, and Future sticks to familiar subjects such as drugs, sex, and luxury fashion.

On the whole, Interplay is interesting but inconsistent, landing more like a collection of ideas being fleshed out than a cohesive album experience. Ultimately, it's commendable that Ride continue to reach beyond their past, but the best moments of Interplay are the ones that remind the listener what made the band so unique to begin with.

Some focus and editing would have really helped because there's a great album buried somewhere in here.

Here everything feels like a copy of something that had already been done better by another band. In the end, there's little to no reason to pull this record out instead of Siamese Dream or Nothing's Shocking. Or the other three Meatbodies albums, which have all the oddball thrills and unique perspective Flora Ocean Tiger Bloom seems to have lost along the bumpy journey to completion.

Yeat's creative drive is admirable, but unfortunately 2093 just doesn't live up to its lofty concept.

The material occasionally slides backward, from subtle and reserved to nearly featureless, but it's as clever and almost as charming as Sensational.

A rather inoffensive listening experience, a middle ground that Idles have mostly been able to avoid until now.

Kanye has shown the world his unfiltered megalomania, heartbreak, self-obsession, self-contempt, and confusion, and even at its most ghastly, it's always been at least a little bit exciting or provocative. On Vultures 1, he struggles to show much of anything, crafting songs that are loud and shiny, but still largely blank.

Pink Friday 2 lacks the cohesion and self-editing that would make it a rightful follow-up to her 2010 mainstream arrival. As it stands, Pink Friday 2 is another collection of Nicki Minaj songs, most of them exhilarating and fun, but some forgettable or awkwardly placed.

The starkness of the arrangements helps draw attention to the distance between the origin of a song and Young's present. Now creeping toward 80, Young doesn't sound fragile yet his vocals display some age-related raggedness. Embracing his weathered, keening voice, Young highlights the tender yearning that runs throughout these songs.

2023's The First Time is a 20-song album that more or less revisits the tones and styles Laroi laid out over the three previous years.

Blockbusta is not without its instances of fun and excitement, but for the most part, Busta Rhymes sounds like he's reaching for something different on almost every track and not quite grabbing ahold of any of it.

Burton's falsetto feels like part of the tapestry masterminded by Quesada, never quite pulling attention to either his words or melodies. While this ultimately means that Chronicles of a Diamond doesn't leave enough hooks behind to linger in the memory, the pulsating, colorful vibrations it creates as its spins are certainly an enjoyable way to get lost in the ether for a half hour or so.

Its seven tracks are rhythmically labyrinthine, unhurried in tempo, with clamping drums and cosmic synthesizers that burble, prance, and sometimes create a sense of menace.

The Silver Cord was released in two different editions; one with the songs edited to around four minutes each, one where the songs stretch out over the ten minute mark. The extended versions don't add much to the overall effect of the album, merely giving the listener more time to wonder why the band chose to go down this route.

Action Adventure doesn't sound like DJ Shadow's other records, but it's exactly the type of album he would make -- a risky, expectation-bucking set that only fully makes sense to the artist himself.

An album that continues very much in the melancholy vein of its predecessor while taking a generally looser approach to arrangements.

With a more congruous title, "Anxiety's Rainbow" is an album highlight for its marriage of rousing melody, dissonance, and groove, while the rest is interesting enough to hope for more from this ambitious isolation-induced project.

Chock-full of brusque rhymes that, even with occasional respite with the odd slow jam, become mind-numbing over the course of its hour-long duration, Scarlet is a fascinating follow-up to Planet Her.

It might not be the worst Drake album, but it's in the conversation for sure.

The Dark Side of the Moon Redux doesn't offer uninterrupted talk but the stress is placed firmly on the words, to the point that "The Great Gig in the Sky" now doesn't float weightlessly: it's now about a letter Waters wrote to the assistant to Donald Hall when the poet was in his last days. It's a subtle change but it's a substantial one, turning Dark Side of the Moon into a voyage inward, not outward.

An album that sustains a mellow, melancholy mood without quite distinguishing itself as a collection of individual songs. Then again, that's kind of the point of the album: it's a pensive soundtrack for a specific season, nothing more and nothing less.

Ashnikko is part rage rapper, part feminist pop star, part disaffected rocker with emo-goth tendencies, but still somehow categorically none of the above, donning a new mask for each new expression.

As a whole, End of the Day taps into the stillness that's flowed through Tell Me How You Really Feel and Things Take Time, Take Time, a melancholy that's as restorative as it is depressive. That feeling when not married to singing and lyrics winds up offering some measure of comfort. Free of melody, hooks or other organizing themes, this music merely floats, a soothing sound to those who share its wavelength.

Emotional Contracts finds Deer Tick operating at full power and making very few advancements from previous albums, seeing no need to fix what isn't broken with their meat-and-potatoes, blue-collar rock sound.

A bevy of producers, highlighted by Jennifer Decilveo (Bat for Lashes, Anne-Marie) and Daniel Tannenbaum (Kendrick Lamar), do admirable, evocative work, but the songs and feeling get lost under the layers of sound, particularly at the album's hour-long running time.

Here Lydon has ideas and sounds focused on making them into something, and he has a band capable of giving him all the support he needs. It's not entirely successful, but it's not lazy, either, and at this stage of Lydon's career (and given a very trying situation at home), that's to be commended.

Old Ian Tyson and Hoyt Axton tunes do a better job of articulating his aesthetic than Wall himself, which suggests that all his period flair and plainspoken delivery are just affectations.

The Ones Ahead gets too saccharine at times, and it's not anywhere near as engaging as Glenn-Copeland's visionary folk-jazz records from the early '70s, or his soothing ambient classic Keyboard Fantasies. Nevertheless, it's impossible to find fault with his optimism, and the songs' messages clearly resonate.

He may be able to capture the sound of a band playing in a room but in this case, it feels like the room is a rehearsal studio, with the band stuck playing rough drafts at maximum volume. A bit of tightening and a bit of polish would've gone a long way here.

Some of Uzi's experiments are fun and exploratory while others flop, and the entire album is a lot to digest in one go. There are still plenty of solid tracks regardless of what style Lil Uzi Vert is trying on, but more fastidious editing might have delivered a more enjoyable, less meandering overall listening experience.

At its most passable, COI is an engaging play with enough highlights to pack a playlist and keep the party moving.

Despite Clarkson's rousing performances and optimistic outlook, Chemistry feels cloistered and secluded, lacking pathways into its inner sanctuaries.

Stitched together with old, seemingly unfinished material dusted off and sometimes freshened up in some fashion, varying wildly in subject matter, and therefore doesn't come across as a true follow-up to 2021's Punk.

Context and a bold lack of featured artists lend a sense of solitary unease that differentiates these exploits from those recounted in his earlier output.

By and large, Heaven Is a Junkyard finds Powers in pastoral mode. Even in its most orchestrated moments, the album feels primarily reflective and still, like Powers is gazing out on a silent field of wheat and offering us a look into his brain as the thoughts, memories, and scattered hopes all float by.

He continues to process trauma, grief, and guilt, with tracks like "Pelle Coat" and the J. Cole-featuring "All My Life" being some of his more emotional material to date.

After three or four of these hard-to-follow stylistic roadmaps, however, the excitement quickly becomes exhaustion, and Sleep Token's overly-polished sound starts to feel more overwrought than enjoyable.

So much about Jackman. feels incomplete or partially thought out, however, that the album relegates itself to mere background music with occasional flashes that suggest serious emotion or profound contemplation without ever fully delivering.

Gag Order discards these pop niceties because it's designed as a purge, one that delivers catharsis for the artist without much consideration for the audience.

For every familiar move, there's an unexpected turn.

Sheeran is naturally a laid-back performer, the pair fit almost a little bit too neatly: where certain hooks and melodic refrains would've been pushed into the spotlight on previous Sheeran albums, they're lying in the background here. That tender touch when combined with a preponderance of ballads turns - (subtract) into a curiously recessive album: its emotions are raw, yet its execution is reserved.

Ultimately, Prism ends up faring much like the previous two Orb albums -- another eclectic mixed bag that has some amusing ideas but doesn't feel as focused as the group's best work.

More than anything else, In Pieces is a strong showcase for Chlöe as a vocal dynamo, as much of the material is hollow, lacking distinction.

Mess is part of the appeal of Crazy Horse, whether they're heard with Young or on their own, so it feels right that All Roads Lead Home occasionally feels as if the sum is less than the individual parts; these are old friends not so much joining forces as they are grooving on the same wavelength.

One does have to wonder if the songs would have had more impact if they were a bit less produced and mixed. Ultimately, the fault lies with everyone involved and their combined efforts lead to an album that is nice to have playing while idly doing household chores, but is unlikely inspire too many repeat listens.

The Who integrate the orchestra quite seamlessly throughout the performances, especially during an extended segment focused on Quadrophenia material; the orchestra helps Pete Townshend and Roger Daltrey summon a bit of the old Who's flair for bombast. Even so, the moments on the record that cut the deepest are when the band plays without the orchestra.

Other One feels like it was pulled through a wormhole from a universe where a committee writes Babymetal's metallic pop emissions, intent on flowing with the current instead of against it.

While it's admirable that they're not content to simply rehash older material, the riskier new material sometimes hits its mark and sometimes flops. The edgier tracks on Different Game will appeal to die-hard fans and those following the Zombies' entire journey, but might register as confusing for casual listeners. As ever, all the surrounding details are reduced to afterthoughts whenever Blunstone sings.

U2 deliver smooth, polished performances that are handsome and, yes, intimate but not especially compelling. It's stylish background music that sounds a bit like it was designed to be heard in chain coffeehouses during the late 2000s.

All this radio-ready variety suggested that Wallen wanted to appeal to every audience everywhere, but in the wake of his scandal, this multi-purpose crowd-pleasing suggests an artist who wants to provide the perpetual jukebox within a walled garden.

The end results feel curiously constrained, as if Twain was dancing in front of a mirror instead of underneath a mirrorball.

The set list offers few surprises -- if you don't recognize a song, that's because it's a new tune added to GRRR! -- but the Stones are in fine form, never seeming tired of playing the hits in a fashion that guarantees a splendid time for one and all.

As it boils down, Like..? presents a new artist finding their voice, showing promise in some moments, and losing traction in others.

The album was reportedly rush-released due to hackers threatening to leak the album unless he paid them a million dollars; the album wasn't fully mixed yet, making it seem raw and unfinished. (Trippie stated plans to later release a cleaned-up mix of the album.) On top of its sheer roughness, the album is as bloated as 2020's Pegasus, lasting 76 minutes and 25 songs.

It's largely unobtrusive and serviceable, distinguished mostly by Smith's elastic voice and increased specificity and complexity to the reflective and romantic songs.

In some ways, Compositions feels more like a film score than other Deathprod albums, not quite resembling variations on a theme, but aurally illustrating a specific scene with each track. Unfortunately, nothing here really expands past being interesting sounds or settings, and these pieces don't elevate to the haunting, mesmerizing level of Deathprod's best work.

Whether autobiographical or a thought exercise, Honey is evocative and often relatable, if in turn inevitably alienating and mercurial.

It's a lot of samey-sounding material to wade through just to find a slightly different version of "Mississippi." While the remix is instructive, offering insight into Dylan's intentions and making Time Out of Mind seem less like an outlier in his discography, this set is ultimately for the hardcore heads, who don't mind hearing minute variations on familiar themes.

The resulting album is perhaps surprisingly uplifting and affectionate in tone. Based in a reflective, if dance-minded, bedroom-R&B zone for the most part.

This release is probably more for Mac DeMarco super fans than casual listeners, as there's nothing resembling the happy-go-lucky hooks of his best-loved songs, just the incidental sounds collected on a slow, aimless wander.

The set sees the band channeling their anger about world events into a blistering mix of metal and alternative hard rock.

The release seems like a major personal achievement and he deserves to be proud of it, but there isn't anything here that matches the best tracks on his first two albums.

Her Loss is scattered, flowing more like a mixtape than a well-designed album, but there are plenty of highlights to balance out the less fully formed inclusions.

Stylistically uneven, unsettled set, though one never loses the sense that Warren is presenting a central, ill-fated-relationship narrative.

It certainly slots in a level below their more considered releases, but if one is fully onboard with the King Gizzard experience, Laminated Denim is certainly worth adding to an ever expanding collection of works.

It's enjoyable enough that it takes a minute to realize that Springsteen and Aniello aren't exactly re-interpreting these 15 songs: they're merely playing them for a lark. That's enough for a good time but once Only the Strong Survive fades out with the last notes of "Someday We'll Be Together," there's not much that lingers behind in the memory.

Fields sings everything with the expected high level of conviction, covering nearly the gamut of blue-collar soul subjects with devotion and heartache at the fore. His performances elevate the material when it's merely functional.

Ultimately It's Only Me sticks to the formula that's taken Lil Baby to the top, but somehow fails to communicate the personality and creative fire that was hard to miss on earlier albums.

YG's bouncing between styles gives I Got Issues a scattered flow that pushes the best tracks to the forefront and makes the weaker material feel all the more tedious.

"The Other Ones" is out of place for its melodramatic decluttering of baggage, but the trio of "Pieces," "I Don't Love You Like I Used To," and "Home" come across as wholly heartfelt, respectively striking a rare balance of numbness and hope, expressing total devotion, and turning on the (ocular) waterworks. Legend is at his best when entertainment isn't his objective.

What's here sounds fine, but it's nothing revelatory, and there aren't any sections that tap into some sort of divine inspiration. This may as well just be a bootleg recording of a dress rehearsal, certainly of interest to fans, but not one of Can's essential releases.

Like its sibling Unlimited Love, Return of the Dream Canteen benefits from the positive energy of these four friends just having fun in the studio, and is designed for listeners to plug in and bliss out without any expectations of mainstream-ready fare.

Although Sparke thrives in quieter surroundings, her voice is capable of commanding this more confrontational material, if made slightly less distinctive in the process.

Too many of these melodies are similar enough that they're indistinguishable from one another. On balance, jams such as "Outer Heaven," "Impermanence," and "Vendetta X" solidly reveal that this band still has plenty of creative dazzle left in the tank.

Game tends to overreach with his mix of the referential and the personal. When there's less obvious effort, the results are favorable, as on the Kanye West collaboration "Eazy," containing some of Game's best lyrics, illustrating the contrast between his upbringing and his ascendancy.

NAV reveals feelings of vulnerability and loneliness on some tracks, while concentrating on jewelry, money, and fame on the more club-ready songs.

If overlong, MOSS is lovely on average and improves over the debut by committing to a design that suits Hawke's vocal qualities.

How Do You Burn? suggests he needs a fiercer and more energetic team of underlings if he's going to remain a force to be reckoned with.

While SPARK's curio-like qualities may win the duo new listeners, and songwriting tendencies could offer a lifeline to certain established fans, it's a change -- signified by its all-caps stylization -- sure to alienate many as well.

demon time unfortunately turns out to be underwhelming.

If Jude lacks in immediacy, such melodic tunes as "Not One Night" suggests this is intentional: Lennon has traded direct pop for an elliptical route that suits his skin.

Someday Is Today is unfocused in more ways than one, but its mood locks into the late-summer twilight.

"Juice WRLD Did" doesn't have the same ring to it, but the wobbling/chiming track is among the album's few other memorable moments despite being dusted off and slapped into the sequence after Khaled added his vocal stamp.

Sitting through the entirety of The Last Slimeto is bound to be an exhausting experience to anyone but YoungBoy's many devout fans, but even if it seems to function more as a playlist than an album, it's definitely not monotonous, and the rapper's dedication to the game is unquestioned.

Tonally, Beck and Depp don't quite mesh -- Beck's guitar wants to soar, Depp stays earthbound -- and instead of generating something rife with tension or an outright failure, the results are just leaden and dull.

Vol. 2 sounds like the album one might slap on after the Funk Wav Bounces, Vol. 1 party ends and everyone is ready to crash.

The Wizrd proved that Future can still make career highlights after over a decade of releases yet the formulaic, playlist-packing INLY joins High Off Life as a mediocre interlude in the rapper’s career.

While few of the tracks offer much in the way tunefulness, Tividad's lilting, delicate leads on "Junkie" and the borderline power ballad "Butterfly Bulletholes" are among a handful of exceptions.

World Wide Pop is flat and uninspired, overdone and undercooked, and filled with dubious choices.

One thing The Versions does have in common with tribute albums is that virtually none of the remakes are preferable to the originals, but it rarely fails to fascinate.

While the rest of the record never quite reaches that level of instantaneous pop gratification [as "Silk Chiffon"], Muna still turn in some of their better songs from there while also taking their sound to new places.