Immunity is nothing if not consistent in providing Clairo's confessional lyrics and seemingly thematically detached vocals with a cushiony-soft landing. What she loses here in charm, she makes up for in lyrical depth and an enveloping sense of comfort, if drowsy melodies tend to waft by rather than stick around.

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.

Compared to You Are Not Alone and One True Vine, the quality of the material is more variable.

Probably one of indie rock's more dignified efforts of 2003.

It's a clunky end to a disappointing album; one that sounds less like a reinvention and more like a giant step down a path best left unexplored further. Maybe they can strip back down to a trio, get their pedals back, and return to being a first class psych band instead of second rate indie rock troubadours.

As a collection of unabashedly melodramatic, dear-diary poetic, and tastefully lush happy/sad dream pop anthems, In Roses delivers the goods with the sort of restrained panache that’s sure to win over the NPR crowd.

Undoubtedly, she has the charisma and chops to be convincing on both bubblegum and ballads but 1989 is something else entirely: a cold, somewhat distant celebration of all the transient transparencies of modern pop, undercut by its own desperate desire to be nothing but a sparkling soundtrack to an aspirational lifestyle.

In a few cases, the songs rival or eclipse material on Sound of Water, but they probably weren't included because they didn't fit the general, easygoing flow of the immaculately sequenced album.

While there are some fascinating passages on "Souvenir in Chicago," including sections inspired by a shared love of the minimalism of Steve Reich, the piece never quite becomes a coherent work.

Though his solo tracks are fine compositions, its when Gerald mixes the dark drum'n'bass beats with sultry elements and star female vocals, does his production come alive and the album become worthwhile.

We Fight Til Death gets distracted easily; all of its ideas are great, but they don't always come to fruition.

These flashes of greatness don't quite add up to what could have been, but the album as a whole is still quite exceptional.

For the most part, this is more of the same, which disciples will have no qualms about.

There's a roving chaos to the disc, not completely divorced from the springy shifts of his other band, but definitely a different animal.

"In Your Eyes" isn't quite tonally of piece with the rest of Rated PG but as it's one of Gabriel's most famous songs, it belongs here and helps put into perspective how so much of Gabriel's film work leans toward the artier side of the spectrum.

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.

It's not the prettiest or easiest of records, nor is it Oberst's finest outing to date, but it does house some real gems, including the emotionally charged opener "Tachycardia," the thoughtful, Dylan-esque "You All Loved Him Once," and the barbed and broken "A Little Uncanny."

The pieces here -- it's hard to call them songs or tracks -- are almost ambient, but there's too much noise and too many shifting sounds to keep you from spacing out for too long.

He certainly talks like he wants to make music that stands the test of time and really matters to people; if that's ever going to happen, he'll need to make records go beyond pleasant and enjoyable. Despite the handful of songs that touch of his potential for greatness, Fine Line isn't quite there yet.

Fans of esoteric underground rap should take notice. Worth investigating.

It's a trade-off that many bands make as they progress, cashing in on the uniqueness of their original sound for something more palatable to the imagined masses. It almost never works out well for the band involved and despite a few bright moments where they almost get it right, it doesn't work for Cherry Glazerr here.

As they head further down this cerebral path, it would behoove Newcombe and his gang to work a bit harder on their core offerings before they paint on all the fun stuff.

Admittedly, these are also slower-burning compositions that lack the hooks and pop immediacy of much of Villagers' previous work. Ultimately, however, the pulling back feels intentional and fitting for an album of songs that always seem born out of O'Brien's most personal experiences.

It's a sassy section of sultry soul and urban vibratos, yet a snarling demeanor asking for a little respect also peeks through the dozen-song set list.

Universal Truths and Cycles shows the band has lost touch with the most important thing outside producers brought to their TVT albums -- someone to help pick, choose, and sequence Robert Pollard's over-abundance of songs.

No matter the number of bright moments, you can't help but feel that Jadakiss has his best days ahead of him.

Outside of the Bacharach album, it's his best in a long time. But in order to know that, you will have to have dilligently listened to everything from Spike on -- and if you got off the bus around then, it's harder than ever to get back on.

Despite some missteps, like an attempt at rapping on "Bitter Bug" or a slight lapse into new age on "Symmetry," there are a handful of songs that redeem the ambling nature of the album.