If I don't revisit it, (and I might not, because it wasn't exactly mind-blowing), I appreciate it for at least being a pleasant listen.

It's just a Hot Chip side project that sounds like a Hot Chip side project, and there's nothing wrong with that, but nothing terribly exciting either.

Early Birds paints a picture of how the band were operating before they got around to releasing their debut, showing that they were just as interested in being silly and experimental as they are today.

It's just solid and efficient, a period piece with modern trimmings.

Short, sweet, and edgy without being rough, Strange Grey Days is the perfect soundtrack to an afternoon daydream, be it sunny or shadowed, for its lullaby quality if not its stark originality.

If you can forgive Barnes' very unfortunate excursions into hip-hop and overlook what is hopefully the last few Georgie Fruit guest spots, you'll be amazed at the range of sounds that the band manages to successfully explore here.

Neither cold enough to make a disquieting impression nor warm enough to connect with the listener the way the artist’s own A Strangely Isolated Place or, hell, Amber did.

There’s an impressive amount of sound and instrumentation for a trio. The consequence is that McEntire doesn’t stand out quite as well as last time, and can easily get lost in the tight, economical work from her bandmates.

If The Year of Hibernation was childhood nostalgia, this is existentialist pubescence.

When viewed on its own, Vol. 3 is a pleasant, though fundamentally flawed, ending to Smith’s musical journey.

Akron/Family are never going to stop changing and you never really know what you’re gonna get, but they could perhaps do with a bit more cohesiveness and bit less grandiosity next time around.

While it is hard to pinpoint anything wrong with Sound Kapital on a micro-level (and a great many people are likely to be happy with the collection), the resulting picture of Sound Kapital as a whole is one of complacency, making the album easy enough to like, but difficult to love.

Although this may be a relative disappointment it should not be looked at as the start of a decline, but merely a curiosity in the collection.

Sure, they may borderline on gimmick at times, but Born To Die has its own sound, and that is more than we can say about a lot of music that is presently being released.

The album struggles to find a particular voice, and make any sort of statement, leaving me more than a couple of steps off using the album's own title to describe my opinion of it.

It does sound a lot like oOoOO and under scrutiny with A-B comparisons, Our Loving Is Hurting Us is pretty starkly more of the same.

Much like their genre, Clock Opera's music is nothing new, but has charming roots.

It's when I keep in mind the idea of Pull It Together being an album for her daughter that I enjoy the album most, as it's in this light that it sounds at its most charming and likeable.

Like Earth as a whole, "The Children" doesn't make for the most pleasant of listening experiences, but it does represent another evolution in Richter's artistic progression.

It's an intermittently engaging set of ephemeral longevity, ultimately a little too nonspecific and slipshod to be considered alongside the rest of his full-length catalogue.

Elements of Light ultimately feels like a stop off between Black Noise and whatever Pantha Du Prince has waiting on the horizon.

For all its spookiness, Confrontations is ultimately a pleasant listen that goes down easy and doesn’t leave much of a impression.

The end result is an unfortunate fact that while Death Cab For Cutie seems as capable as ever at expressing themselves, they are running out of things to say. Or, at least, things worth hearing.

If nothing else, Attention Please proves Boris can do this softer pop-informed rock, but ultimately it holds more untapped potential than success.

While I don't understand a lot of the decisions made on this record, it is still undeniably an exhibition of some of the best sonic control and sound shaping around.

That two of the five songs are covers isn't a bad thing, but it does give the impression that this record's a bit of a throwaway: there are some interesting directions pointed out by the denser arrangements, but we'll have to wait to see how they'll realise them more fully.

Blouse are a promising, if yet to be fully realized, project.

There's much to cherish here, but this isn't a complete effort.

Feel the Sound is not a classic, it's not a masterpiece, and despite its pristine delivery, it's not perfect. But it is an honest and genuine sampling of a band who continues to subvert expectations.

While there are plenty of fantastic moments to be found and the album is certainly recommendable, its sluggishly repetitive second half reminds the listener too often of exactly what the strengths and weaknesses of this band are.

The finished product sounds like a work in progress, which is cool, but here's to hoping that Blunt and Copeland will improve the production quality and fully realize their genrebending sketches next time around.

Anyone who considers themselves a fan of unvarnished punk should listen to OFF! at least once.

Coming up with interesting sounds isn't an issue for these guys, it's putting them together that is.

The majority of Hands of Glory is devoted to covers, though, and while Bird already has plenty of fine covers in his catalogue ("Don't Be Scared", "Trimmed + Burning", "The Giant of Illinois"), his efforts here are something near enough lacklustre and uninspiring.

It manages to feel both too specific and not quite specific enough; while it sounds like her own personal sound world and collection of memories, the album lacks that relatable hook to draw the listener in.

The album's top heavy, and its finest moments come when T.I.'s able to look past himself, whether it be to attack the legal or education system. The rest is frustratingly mixed.

The strange, yet awfully satisfying, collection of tracks certainly won't attract new listeners to the Gorillaz catalogue, but synth-infused pop tracks like "Revolving Door" or "Hillbilly Man" will appease most listeners.

This may be a confused record, but it finds its place through a universal truth it manages to hit: so Skinner can't quite find his way in this world: who among us can?

No Witch might not be a particularly ground-breaking album, but it is a significant leap forward for this band, and that's most definitely a step in the right direction.

With snappier sounds and clearer EQs, the tracks on BlackenedWhite sound much crisper than anything on Goblin – a record that sounded too muddy for its own good.

Soft Metals shows a ton of potential, and each track is polished with care, but it is hard to overcome the album's mostly simple pattern.

With this mixed bag he's likely cemented his reputation as a MC that was blessed with a sack of classic beats for his debut, now just a rapper like the rest of 'em.

The levels of electronics that come in and out subtly, but skilfully, on the album's best songs are an indication of how much time Jason Drake has put into them. It's just a shame that this shines light more intensely on the songs where he didn't.

For every fault that Neighborhoods has--and it has quite a few--the album is infectious and catchy.

What this results in is an album that is just as frequently successful as it is frustrating.

Make no mistake; the album isn't a failure, it's just sacrificed a little too much to be a success.

Mixed Emotions seems served just too late, and comes off as regrettably stale.

Splazsh's followup simply doesn't hold the same tension or drive.

This album will make for a perfectly amicable spring soundtrack, but in terms of a long-term shelf life it's be hard to imagine Candy Salad making it through the sweat and debauchery of the summer festival circuit in one relevant piece.

While Ship has a few compelling moments, it's mostly lethargic and sinks into its own monotonous haze.

Four sounds like an album created by a talented band that finally got back in a room together after a long time apart, and just seemed to put together all the various ideas they've all had without stopping to think too much about them.

It's all very well-done, but it's not something that you'll feel much incentive to revisit over and over; an experience worth taking, but not necessarily one worth repeating.

Clark and Byrne are never fully on the same page. Instead they ricochet of each other, flying off on miniaturized tangents that never stray far from home.

An ambitious concept, but not fully executed, Top Ten Hits Of The End Of The World is stuck somewhere in-between.

FIDLAR are still young, and they sing about what they know; never on the album do you feel like they’re presenting themselves as anything other than what they are, and this is why the album is enjoyable despite its repetition and simplicity.

With some great tracks, and some tracks that are only just okay, Brilliant! Tragic! is definitely worth listening to at least once or twice this summer.

There's half a very good album here, the rest is just a few clever musicians having some fun.

This is an artist that certainly knows how to kick it in, but you spend most of your time waiting for it.

CAVE have clearly done their homework in terms of musical influences, but I'd love to hear them spend less time droning in their footsteps of their forebears and more time actually crafting something new.

The record too often seems unsure of itself, the band uncertain of their ability to make this style of music conform to their rules rather than vice versa--a shame considering how talented Craig and Drennan are when it comes to melody and song.

Overall, Ceremonials leaves everyone's opinions of Florence + the Machine in stasis; if you loved or hated her before, you'll still feel the same way, if you were unsure, you'll still be unsure.

Tinsel and Lights is at its best during its most Christmassy moments, which in the context of everything else, feels a little ironic, as Thorn sounds like she's trying to avoid the holiday for the most part.

Instrumentally, every song here is impressive, but the singing is pushed to the fore on the majority in an attempt to instigate a hook, which is only occasionally successful.

So, for now we're left with another Noel Gallagher album that continues in the same trend of most of Oasis' output, trying to be something greater than it is. But hey, at least it's better than Beady Eye.

As it stands, Beak & Claw gets an A for effort but considerably lower marks for execution.

As much as Mice Parade’s previous releases seemed to be insular statements, Candela is simply stretched too thin, with too little of Pierce himself in the music.

Off the Record, despite a few promising tracks, never provides a strong enough reason for listeners to do anything but go back and admire what he accomplished with Kraftwerk.

While Comedown Machine drags itself through a number of dead zones (most notably the dud pair of the title track and “50 50”), there are moments where they recapture some of what made them a great band.

It’s surprisingly how unaffecting and mediocre most of it is.

I know the band can write damn good songs and they have proven that before and prove it here, but until they address the main problems (the still heavily reverberated vocals for one) or really venture out into something different (there is life beyond pasting snippets from philosophy lectures) I think history will keep repeating itself for these guys.

As a whole, the album's sound suggests that of a band on auto-pilot, one that's not so much invested in recording new material as it is in simply going through the motions of recording new material.

Much like a good wine, the album mellows out and becomes better.

On Gimme Some, Peter Bjorn and John abandon the experimental sound they'd been developing over the course of the last few years in favor of flavorless alt-rock that falls short of the bar set by Falling Out.

To put it simply, Is This Hyperreal? suffers not because the band made a bad album, but because this is the fourth time they've repeated the formula.

By itself, Mountaintops is a big, dry album that doesn't move you anywhere.

If anything, A Very She & Him Christmas can feel like a wet blanket at times, like a party that just can't get off the ground.

Instead of charm you've got big dramatic gestures at every turn.

The record sounds tired, dreamy, and wasted in the daylight at five in the afternoon– it tries to be breezy, but instead still feels like 99 degrees of heat.

While Major has a good solid handful of inspired moments, none of this material comes close to approaching the plane as that Fang Island were operating on before.

God Forgives is consistently, pleasantly underwhelming: the plodding R&B-rooted efforts aside, there's nothing much to complain about.

They start off well, though, with a trio of solid tracks.... The remaining tracks on the album are equally inoffensive, but they don't have the same half-minded unassuming appeal to help them glide along, and too often there's one too many head-in-your-hands cheesy lines thrown in.

The most frustrating thing about these eleven songs is that it sounds as if Lidell is shackled by the aesthetic, and it’s totally self-imposed. He’s capable of more.

Toward the Low Sun staggers to get that momentum, though it does achieve atonement through progression.

As an album, it's ultimately too bogged down by its professionalism and erraticism to come together very well.

Local Business isn't a bad album, but it doesn't completely pull itself off either.

Like Silica Gel, Sushi isn't a bad album; it's just disappointingly mediocre, and I expect better than that from the psychedelic underground's clown prince of Cool Runnings and backseat-of-grandma's-Oldsmobile Top-40 jams.

While the fury remains, there a perceptible dip in quality in nearly every aspect of the Thermals’ formula.

Nocturnes rates better as an album that sounds better with time, as opposed to Hands’ sugar rush appeal. However, it also retains an uneven quality that can make getting through Nocturnes feel like someone trying to drag the party on a little too long.

Different Gear, Still Speeding shows that the band is comfortable with themselves and their follow-up has every chance to be a stronger album – especially if they are brave enough to include more styles, even if they won't move beyond their British Invasion inspirations.

Chopped & Screwed is an interesting concept that would certainly be fascinating to witness live. However, on record, it does not reach more than a curiosity frequently enough to make it worth many repeat plays.

We have this perfectly pleasant and assuming piece of synth pop, neighing through a vocoder with the dying breath of the shamelessly beaten horse of retro-futurism.

This kid may not have the voice of a generation, but there's certainly a demographic he could mean the world to. Once he figures out that it's what he has to say that should guide his singles, rather than what he imagines we want to hear, there may well be a great artist in Yelawolf.

Wrecking Ball is an album that will reinforce most everyone's preexisting opinion of The Boss, whether they be good or bad.

It can become background music all too easily: while Silver's work will always have a degree of ambience to it, Exercises can completely disappear from your consciousness if you don't pay enough attention, especially during the last few tracks.

The end results are still pleasant enough, but can wear thin, even just after five songs.

Ultimately what this record lacks is any sense of audacity or ambition.

Rave Age is an awkward half-step in a couple directions for Vitalic. It's texturally half-baked and predictable.

Astronomy sounds like a healthy stroll down 90s Alternative Alley, and is as comforting as it is overly familiar; giving it a listen won't change your perspective on music, but it might make you pine for the good old days.

The moments of brightness--some poetry here, a brief pop moment there--will get most listeners through the album, but won't inspire them to keep coming back.

As it stands, the rest of the record proves to varying degrees that it’s not necessarily reverb or effects that alienate--you can sound just as distant armed with nothing but clean instrumentation and an impenetrable air of disinterest.

As is, I Am Very Far is far from a lot of things, the biggest among these is the high bar that Okkervil River has never had a problem exceeding, until now.

Apart from the aptly titled "Film Credits," which, worthily, plays much like a ode to Max Richter, the music on the remainder of the album is left to unsatisfying and grey piano suites that don't sound destined for a more open setting nor benefit from the intimate setting of Arnalds' own living room.

TEEN is another in a long line of mildly interesting but ponderous offshoots from already established bands.

If you're hoping for change here, give up now. Man on the Moon II: The Legend of Mr. Rager is also presented in five acts, and again has no real structure to justify them.

Ian Parton is capable of more, and his poor decisions and lack of forward-thinking will keep The Go! Team from being more than a great live act unless change is sought for their next record.

The entire album seems either completely uninspired or absolutely rushed.

Go With Me is like a big box of popcorn; it's tasty and it can be improved by the circumstances under which you're enjoying it, but by the end you're barely even tasting it anymore, and it certainly won't quell your appetite for a proper meal.

So much of Still Living is lost to completely monotonous-sounding songs, and while they are mixed impeccably and follow a certain rhythm, it's hard to get through the entire album in one sitting.

The National Health is not a poor effort, it's just woefully undistinguished.

Time and time again The Luyas set themselves up in a soft kraut-like groove and fail to progress the song into something different, allowing it to fizzle out after four or five minutes.

Its biggest problem is that, from start of finish, it feels strangely reserved.

With their influences in the right musical zone, we could be hearing some great things from Jacuzzi Boys in the future. Sadly, this release proves that they're not quite there yet.

There's potential here but it's sadly unrealized.

It's an album that alternates between being rewarding and punishing.

As brief as the moments of goodness may be, they’re lost in a sea of noise that becomes near indistinguishable when taken in one sitting.

It sounds reaching, like the band is lost and looking desperately for an audience and a voice. I hope they start looking somewhere else.

As said, the songs benefit from being taken out of context and as much as that leads to just picking and choosing the moments worth going back for, the process of listening to the EP as a whole can almost be disheartening as much as it is unrewarding.

Beal appears determined to make his debut as inaccessible as possible. Intentionally crappy instrumentation holds the album back, stealing the focus from what is an incendiary voice--a lot of casual fans will be dumbfounded by this grating, uneasy listening.

It's shiny but fluffy, and sure to be a disappointment to those hoping that O'Regan could build on the promise of Special Affectations.

The Wilderness isn't really a sum of its parts in that songs might sound okay, if not good on their own, but taken altogether it makes for an album that fails to make it off the ground.

It sounds like he's trying to sound less weird, when he doesn't seem to understand that this very weirdness is part of what made him so endearing as a solo artist in the first place.

Maybe they don't care, but ultimately, without any variety or ingenuity on any future albums they might make next, Monotonix might be forever stuck in a rut with nothing to do but party hard.

Sure, there is not a bad tune in the bunch, but the problem is that there isn't a particularly good one here, either.

There are occasions in the album's 45 minutes that are pretty good.

They sound like too much like themselves and too much like the others, and even if you discount the pinpoint instrumentation, it's depressingly calculated.

With a collection of songs largely indistinguishable from one another, this album exemplifies the struggle up-and-coming rappers currently face.

At least in name, Heavy Rocks seems to promise a return to form for Boris. It isn't. It certainly manages a return to sludgy riffed-based heaviness, but the spirit of the record's orange prequel is nowhere to be found.

Ultimately, Mylo Xyloto feels like a mixed bag of ideas that never really comes together.

Hopefully we'll hear something redeeming from Gonjasufi, because MU.ZZ.LE is a step in the wrong direction, or even worse, a step backwards.

Unless you really enjoy music in commercials, you should avoid this disc.

While One Second of Love contains this personal touch of sound, it isn't used to potential.

As compelling as their musicianship may be conceptually, it rarely goes the distance on Remembrance of Things to Come.

Banks is showing some desire to move beyond the design that his career has sustained itself on, but this album shows he's not quite ready to cut the cord.

Lasers is more an indictment of the state of mainstream rap than anything. This is the absolute worst-case scenario of what can happen when commerce is placed above art, and in this instance it's especially offensive because Lupe is someone who doesn't need to bend over backward to be accessible.

We Must Become often hints at Joy Division's stylish brand of post-punk ennui, but by treating it as little more than a gimmick, Maus loses the urgency that makes Curtis's music so endurable.

Descriptors are hardly necessary for any of these songs because they're all a stone's toss from one another in pretty much every respect.

They need to find their identity, and they're going to have to move forward and progress even further as a group if they want to move beyond being a flavor of the month.

All the talent in the world can't cover up the fact that Queen of the Wave simply tries too hard and succeeds too infrequently.

Garden Of Arms is a disappointment, but by no means a failure; next time Peter Wolf Crier need to not only focus on how to make interesting-sounding songs, but how best to execute them too.

This album would not be selling or gaining attention if the band consisted of either of the aforementioned, proving that Share the Joy is nothing worth rejoicing.

There are enough moments here to suggest that the band can find a comfortable middle ground between the two sounds that will suit both their aspirations and the desire of the listeners, let's just hope that next time around they find it.

All signs of growth are forfeit in an attempt to mimic the simple appeal of the material that got him here, right down to the title of the album; another installment in the Famous series, simply with The Album tacked on.

It gets repetitive after a while.

Unfortunately it's largely downhill from here [after opener "Silence"].

These are stories we've already heard told better, and in the same voices.

For everyone else, the predictable melodic twists and some truly awful lyrics will likely prove too much to endure.

There's nothing wrong with seeking to accomplish the same things your heroes did, but when a band tries only to imitate a few aspects–in this case, detached singing, jangly guitar interplay, and lyrics about teen angst–without offering many of the other aspects that made that band great–like clever storytelling and interesting perspectives--it's always going to fall short. Which Come Of Age does.

Raven in the Grave isn't significantly weaker than any of it's predecessors, it's flaws are just significantly more obvious.

There's a lot of kinda clichéd and heavy-handed stuff.

What Did You Expect has its moments, albeit brief ones.

By draining the grunge and punk influences from their sound and then over-producing every single song, Lucero have effectively become every Southern rock, blues-inspired bar band you've ever heard.

The result is an album that is still adrift at sea, unaware of the musical landscape around them.

The Rapture show that they are as worthy of pupils as they have been for the last decade as teachers. But, unfortunately, they still have a lot to learn.

The most disappointing aspect about Syd Tha Kid's delivery is her inability to create a remotely compelling protagonist - something Odd Future members have proved themselves more than capable of doing.

I'd say that MDNA is at the very least "not bad," but frankly, it's worse than bad: it's mediocre.

[The songs'] punchiness and repetitiveness can quickly get on one's nerves, depending on your disposition.

With some rather boring compositions and hokey songwriting, this record doesn't have a lot going for it.

Regardless, even the harshest of words are unlikely to stop this album from being a success. And that, well, is kind of depressing.

I Love You Dude is offensive in its banality, and other than that it's so mundane that it's tough to even want to care.

The whole thing comes off as either an expensive major label joke or nigh-impenetrable high art concept. Maybe both.

Future This is stuck in some kind of awful, awful limbo between Robert Smith-less Cure and hyperbolic electro dance music.

Wolf is a serious mess.

From an MC that would call himself King, shouldn't we all have hoped – nay, expected – well, better?