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.

Self-Surgery is punchy and full of potential, but that’s mostly what it rides on. It’s a quick fix, but its depths are easily plundered.

The first half of SHYGA! contains most of the sharper hits, while the guitars on the second half are allowed to roam looser and longer.

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.

Extinction Level Event 2 is just too ambitious for its own good. Yet, for all the lazy sequels and cash-ins in a genre rife with them, it’s hard to fault Busta Rhymes for striving a bit too hard to go that extra mile.

As it stands, the record is too disjointed as a whole body of work, and you get the sense that when you return to it at a future point it’ll be to pick out the peaks and entirely ignore the lows. Such is life.

What comes reverberating out of Down in the Weeds, Where the World Once Was is Bright Eyes’ deep desire to create beautiful and ambitious music, which they’ve certainly done – even if the results aren’t as essential as what’s come before.

Songs Without Jokes is a perfectly satisfactory addition to McKenzie’s musical career. He’s garnered enough clout behind his credentials to be able to release an album like this: inoffensive, perfectly likable in passing, but a few steps from his best work.

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

Fair play to them for expanding out on Kids in L.A. and finding appropriate inspiration, but I dare say that the emotion that brought the couple together seem to be their deepest well of inspiration.

Glasgow Eyes isn’t far off being a great record, but those drops in quality aren’t just blips, they’re chasms.

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.

Rhye has always specialized in making the kind of dance music that operates at a cool temperature, feeling sexy and sensuous without going full dancefloor. ... Milosh does it again here, and makes room for some nice textural and instrumental details, but as Home closes with another heavenly choir piece, it accidentally suggests something about Rhye: maybe it’s time to try some new tricks.

Joy’All feels so light that, despite some of its heavier themes and perfectly-enjoyable atmosphere, it sounds like it’s a couple seconds from simply evaporating, effervescent, like the bubbles from your Jack & Coke.

They’re churning away in a place that sounds comfortable to them, and not outdoing themselves or any expectations of them at this point in their career. In other words, no big changes – but you would never expect that of them.

The Dream doesn’t feel like a failed attempt at reaching new heights of popularity. It feels like a lot at once, but in a way that makes one want to give it another shot.

Lady Gaga could probably do well with paring down a bit, perhaps finding some weird way to meld the ethos of Joanne with the sleek electronics of Chromatica. She is a very talented pop songwriter and a strong vocalist, but sometimes her ideas sometimes get the best of her, and Chromatica is emblematic of that, in all its highs and lows.

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.

Sundowner bears some resemblance to Morby’s 2016 release Singing Saw. That album excelled in creating a wild and compelling atmosphere because its songs — with their choral support, varied instrumentation, and grittier production — rose to the occasion. On Sundowner, Morby’s storytelling isn’t just the album’s centerpiece – it’s an overcompensation.

Grande’s immaculate outer shell both physically and artistically reframes her personal struggles through artifice, communicating relatability to her audience. Yet the lack of grit, grunge or goo keeps Positions distant from the listener, sitting far away, somewhere in the dark.

The first Mall Grab album is decidedly too busy and scattered to be much of anything but a letdown for most fans.

With Indian Yard, there’s a feeling we might not yet know the full identity of Ya Tseen, but a future release without such reliance on partnerships will surely enlighten. There’s enough thoughtful layering and earnest emotion (“At Tugáni” is where he shows this most, notably in a song named after his son) in Indian Yard to merit further exploration.

The entirety of Freeze, Melt is meditative in the most inoffensive sense; there is no gravitational force – no push and pull to the songs for them to have any more impact than a gentle breeze has on a vast, surging ocean.

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.

There is a feeling of contrivance in some of the songs here, but genuine joy and abandonment elsewhere.

Though Ulven sounds in a better place, she’s still not free from the worry and anxiety that also comes with elation and joy. It colours her music as much as the kitschy stuff does here.

The album does offer some nice expansions on themes and compositional ideas from his debut. But, all in all, too much of Moondust for My Diamond gets lost in its own glittery haze.

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

Repeated listens, indeed, prove it to be a perfectly serviceable, enjoyable offering. But there’s always that nagging feeling, once the DJ has packed up the gear and the dancefloor empties, that there could have been something more.

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

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.

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.

Westerman may not have found his footing with his debut record, but there are enough parts to the whole that should keep listeners looking forward to what he does in the future.

The Shadow I Remember is a confusing exploration of Baldi’s hopes and dreams, which don’t materialize at all. There’s so much to unpack in his words, but he makes it hard to care about them.

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.

The fact that TANGK captures a band boldly going out of their own depth doesn’t take away that IDLES come on a little too strong too often, compelling you to swipe left more often than right.

This is a batch of super simple songs, with super simple melodies, and super simple lyricism. At this point in their career it seems like there isn’t much else to expect from them.

Some of it drags (looking at you, “You’ve Won This War”), and the lyrics, melodies, and sounds don’t always land. At times you can practically feel him straining for it all to Mean Something, but Butler remains a powerful and important voice in music, even when a particular album doesn’t fully succeed.

Although working your way through the album can feel like trudging through the shit-stinking mud in the tunnels beneath the streets, there are glimpses of lights that break though from the surface, like manhole covers left exposed.

Host is a consistent record in its drive towards freedom, and both sound and lyrics embody that. At times this really allows them soar, and at others there’s the struggle to go it alone. It’s great to see Cults taking risks and pressing forward, but more than anything it makes you long for their past.

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.

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.

At its worst, The Tunnel and the Clearing sounds akin to lovely if too-inoffensive loading screen music. At its best, it’s bewitching and intriguing. Overall, Schott still has much to give, and much to offer this particular genre of minimalistic abstract pop, but she may need to do more next time around to take her considerable skills even further.