Summers and Weikel work incredibly well together on Negotiations. Summers' haunting voice and shimmering guitars roll and intertwine with Weikel's drum and synth work effortlessly. It's an album that may take an extended listen, but once you key in, you won't shake it off.

All told, West might repel listeners with short attention spans, but with a bit of patience, its coherence pummels any monotony.

Thankfully, concessions aren't made at many other places on the album, and that may be why the thing works so well.

Tape Club's winning collection of songs should finally get some well-deserved exposure to prove that SSLYBY has nothing to be embarrassed about.

While other guitarists this talented would want their shredding to be the thing you take away from an instrumental album, Marion uses it as one tool (a strong tool to be sure, but a tool) in the production of a set of bright, funky, fun jams.

If this is the caliber of what Braid's writing nowadays, though, I'll hold out hope for a full effort.

White People might not raise itself to the scathing heights of Biafra’s punk rock heyday, but it proves that punk’s most prized court jester still hasn’t washed the bitter taste from his mouth.

Suckers' knack for catchy hooks is what ultimately carries Candy Salad.

Despite the fact that this new LP plays heavily to Merritt’s inclinations toward kid-on-a-carousel constructions, he’s continued to write what he knows--gearing his lyrics toward aging, loss, death, and romantic dissolution.

Instead of trying to pinpoint source material or the exact way it came together, kick back and revel in all the joy it pumps out.

What 6 Feet Beneath the Moon does is throw all that into a sleek binder, one that’s filled with brutally honest portraits of a young artist and an almost alien blueprint for a promising career that could go in any direction Marshall chooses.

He's more lethal than ever before, further pushing experimentation with the relationship between context and sounds, without being overly involved or hard to enjoy at face value.

Iradelphic is a deceptively ambitious album, and while its revelations might get a bit lost, it could be one of the most interesting releases this year.

On his third full-length, Savage Hills Ballroom, Powers eases into the middle between the hush and the boom, foregrounding his voice and his lyrics for his starkest, most focused effort yet.

Though it contains a number of experiments that don’t quite work, I’ll Be Your Girl offers tracks that point to a very exciting way forward for the band.

As an 11-song, 39-minute distillation of his fascination, Lazaretto works more or less as well as 2012′s Blunderbuss, his solo debut.

The downside to Geist is the lack of immediacy and aggression found so readily on Temporary tracks like “Maze of Graves”.

If you prefer the full band version over the solo, chances are you’ll dip into Piano occasionally, pulling your favorite tracks out for personal playlists. If you gravitate toward the solo rendition, the complete piano might be your background music of choice during those long, post-dance party Uber rides of the soul.

It’s not perfect, but Banks and Steelz take risks many other artists might avoid, more than proving their worth.

It’s a challenge to listen intently, to absorb the myriad strands she weaves together, so repeat exposure is both necessary and ultimately rewarding.

In paying homage to seminal-but-still-underrated acts like Into Another and Mind Over Matter, Palumbo and Beck create a Glassjaw record unlike any other and not always in a good way. In doing so, they also crafted the Glassjaw record most in tune with our current reality.

Though it sometimes gets lost in its own sleepy sweetness, Why Are You OK finds just enough of those grand moments of simplicity.

Spring really is more interesting than a one-off single yet not so great that it begs for the full-LP treatment. The little-loved EP format, with its equal space for consistency and experimentation, suits this incarnation of Weezer just fine.

Production values may have been stepped up compared to its predecessors, but the album retains the same haunting charm.

It will be a surprise to learn which tracks aren’t singles yet; there’s at least five more hits to be spawned from this thing, and we’ll never hear the end of it.

Star Power overwhelms with its personality, one that takes on a wildly different but equally zealous form every three minutes, one that’s exciting for a long while before suddenly making you want to shelve it for a longer while.

To some ears--many, really--this is, in fact, as unlistenable as seriously well-crafted, thrilling music gets.

While it may be true that Forster and Thomas feel less essential than Lewis in the mix, it takes nothing away from what they’ve created together. Whether this surprise offering is the first of many or a one-off effort, NAF justifies its existence as more than a lark or an impulse by having a message and taking a chance.

A few missteps aside, El Camino Real continues to affirm that Camper Van Beethoven are far more than just a potential answer to a Before & After puzzle on Wheel of Fortune.

Duran Duran innovate and push further. It may be flawed in parts, but Paper Gods is an ambitious and worthwhile effort that more than justifies its existence.

While Lucifer (and its remix album, Lucifer in Dub) held more nuance in its synthpop drift, Cosmic Logic‘s heavy steps only lose their foothold a few times. These grooves are transparent, but they sure have power.

Emotions and feelings are generated clearly, but more overt references to specific story elements (characters, settings, plot) would carry Otero War to another level. Otherwise, it’s hard to shake the notion that this sounds just like another breakup album.

Taking a more avant-garde approach than the Lawrence brothers and Terje, Dust has woven together funk, electro, disco, and weeping guitar melodies into a digitized language as eccentric as its creator.

Given the record’s stated evolution, In League with Dragons is an inevitably uneven listen; after your first time through, you’ll likely walk away hungry for a fully realized version of Darnielle’s rock opera.

It won’t knock off the top spots from anyone’s Best of 2016 lists, but like a nice piece of candy, it works well as an occasional treat.

The album works extraordinarily well together, but the tracks wouldn’t work as, say, singular pulls for a personal mix. You can take or leave the album. It’s good enough. But the songs don’t stay with you.

Although Matsuzaki’s airy voice can be an acquired taste, overall, The Magic delivers fun pop melodies that require some patience. Rather than solely detailing a narrative, Matsuzaki also uses her words as rhythmic punctuation; that’s a key thrill of Deerhoof’s catalog, but can be a challenge to connect with.

At only eight songs, it’s a shame that Gumption seems to only truly find its footing as it draws to a close in its last couple of songs. That said, as a debut, it has a few moments of captivating beauty and shows plenty of promise for more.

Yoncalla borrows heavily from the ‘70s and ‘80s while never seeming anything less than modern--but Yumi Zouma seem to have stumbled upon a formula that separates them just enough to pique interest.

These songs keep the gruffness that marked Rose’s early bands but opt for clearer dynamics.

By no means is this a fresh egg, but you’re in good hands when Hitchcock’s picking ‘em.

Despite the occasionally rote nature of Encyclopedia, you can never doubt for a second that the emotions underpinning every word and every note are genuine.

He still has clear vision and awareness of his place in the hip-hop game. However, Wayne is not a great editor, and thus listening to Funeral can become exhausting about halfway through. While listeners may be fatigued, however, Wayne is far from it.

The chief complaint with I’m Up is its narrowness. At just nine tracks and 38 minutes (a lot of which is handed over to guests), there’s just not enough of Thug rapping for this to match up to last year’s releases.

CAPRISONGS might not be as immediately arresting as twigs’ previous work, but it shouldn’t have to be. ... Instead, it acts as her stepping stone towards recentering herself — and that journey alone should be applauded.

The National had an incredible streak of great albums throughout the 2000s that propelled them to their current status as one of the biggest indie rock bands, and I Am Easy to Find is another solid addition to their catalog, even if it breaks that streak.

III is a slow, methodical record that commands listeners’ full attention, but it rewards the investment.

While Shadows in the Night may ultimately be remembered as a brief detour on Dylan’s larger journey, it’d be a shame to dismiss this collection as a mere novelty or flight of whimsy.

Decimation Blues is solid throughout, with just a few scattered moments of unresolved confusion.

On Picture You, The Amazing incorporates traces of psychedelic rock, ’60s pop, and even twee, mostly in the soft-spoken, accented vocals of lead singer Christoffer Gunrup. If that all sounds like chaos, it isn’t. The Amazing has a plan, and they’re rewarded for following it to its furthest conclusion.

Colorado is pretty good. The fact that Young made it at this stage of his career is even better.

Easily the weirdest record in the band’s catalog, Tranquility Base Hotel & Casino is a fun, flawed aberration (at least, for now). Even in failure, there’s enough to explore within Turner’s thicket of lyrics and the haze of this inviting, yet not quite fully realized sonic setting to warrant a few active listens.

Less concerned with fictional romance than with virtual reality, it’s an anxious record from a band that should be settling comfortably into old age. It’s also a powerful argument for why the Buzzcocks remain relevant in spite of their increasingly troubled take on modernity.

This organic quality pops up every so often, as if to reinforce the human element of an album that relies so much on electronic flourishes to get its point across.

While the vast majority of the album serves its purpose as a re-education of sorts between Van Dither and the listener, these tracks ["Wrong," "Nail (Skit)," "Crumble," and "Toots"] drag with self-satisfying excess.

It’d be thrilling to hear Neufeld compose a score that emulated this new fusion, yet paced in more easily traceable narrative arcs. In the meantime, this intriguing album more than suffices.

What Hot Pink lacks in layers of ridiculousness expected from a Doja Cat album, it makes up for in its versatility. ... There’s no question that she’s in control throughout the record, even as the format reveals some weaknesses.

For all of its many excesses, Act IV basically represents Crescenzo at the height of his powers, and fans will likely eat it up, digest it, regurgitate it, and sidle back up to the table for another helping.

They may not be quite the same scrappy art rock brats that made Pink Flag and Chairs Missing underground classics, but they’re no less thoughtful and inventive in their songwriting approach.

Think of the tiny overhead fan gently blowing air that keeps you halfway between sleep and consciousness. Between Waves delivers that same kind of soothing yet neutral sensation. Luckily, it also delivers some left turns here and there that stand out simply by virtue of being different.

Häxan takes Dungen’s psychedelic experimentation and storytelling into a further realm, one at once more fantastic and more rooted in the subconscious. It’s not a definitive statement of who Dungen are, but rather an interesting insight into their ability to connect with who we are.

The album is at once a blithe daydream and a haunting nightmare.

Romance is a solid, sexually charged sophomore entry that places growth at center-stage and keeps us wanting more without going limp.

Title Fight may be slowing down and looking skyward, but there’s something lurking here that suggests they haven’t taken the gloves off just yet.

It’s remarkable progress while also maintaining the signature sounds and style that he’s been fine-tuning for the last few years.

Their immaturity and brusqueness is flavored with a new level of social consciousness and introspection.

Bad News Boys fits into a long string of solid garage samplers from these two maniacs.

A Mineral Love fails when Bibio overcrowds the music or gives over the reins. For those moments when he stands confidently at the helm, however, the record becomes his best in years.

She Is Coming is quite listenable and occasionally thrilling. This project might not turn out to be an important moment in pop music, but it is definitely an important moment in the growth of Miley Cyrus.

At times, this system feels almost crutch-like, similar to the earlier albums of Dirty Projectors, and you might find yourself arriving to the second half of the album completely full.

Here, QOTSA play it pretty safe. That might have been a necessary step to help Homme feel sheltered enough to show off his still-fresh wounds, but, on the whole it keeps the evolution of the band from reaching that next crucial step forward.

Final Days cements itself as Cult of Youth’s most rhythmic album: a somehow upbeat and still apocalyptic leap forward fitting of a finale, whether it ends up being one or not.

She’s successfully roping punk into pop and laughing her way to the top.

While What a Terrible World ultimately feels much less belabored than either of the band’s last two releases, it also blends the personal and the fictional to form a less cohesive whole.

Lyrically, Al Maskati spends Majid Jordan plainly expressing tense feelings of romantic unease, though his candor when singing about his heartache can result in cliches.... The directness of the lyrics can actually be effective when the rest of the arrangements complement their exactness, and Al Maskati and Ullman find that balance here more often than not.

While it might not capture his energy, Didn’t He Ramble fully illustrates Hansard’s deep empathy.

If The Pinkprint is a letdown compared to The Blueprint, then Minaj brought it on herself. However, as a breakup album that takes heartbreak (or, more specifically, the feeling of having an infinite amount of love to give to an appreciative person) in every direction possible, it provides a template worth imitating.

There’s an unmistakable feeling of sameness that runs through I Sell the Circus, which isn’t to say that it sounds tired--anything but.

The five-piece isn’t interested in comfort, but rather an intensity created directly by that push-pull exchange, their strangely humorous song titles, and primitive, warlike lyrics.

Honeymoon clocks in at over an hour; for a full-length of cinematic, defeated, slow songs, that length allows attention spans to drift off, possibly to somewhere happier--or even somewhere darker. Del Rey doesn’t seem to care. This is an endeavor for herself.

Blanco surprises by throwing this tattered voice over top synthesizer warbles and drum samples rather than brooding guitar--a cleaner, more lush take on the work he did in Headphones.

Spending more time alone with the grand piano has helped Krug open up the personal side of his lyrics, limiting the symbolism somewhat in favor of more direct emotional lines.

Home Everywhere’s strongest statement comes with its closer and title track, a multi-part epic that coalesces the album’s many components into something resembling a unified whole.

Despite the erratic material, Emerald Valley has moments of spine-tingling brilliance that shouldn’t be missed.

Fortunately, you won’t get the cavity-inducing earnestness and inoffensiveness that comes with the occasional preciously strummed banjo. Instead, you’ll get better-calibrated songs that sound fresh in a genre that, as these friendly and talented Midwesterners show, still has life left in it.

While not the strongest of the band’s second-era output, it’s a nice addition to Alice in Chains’ impressive discography.

While Blade of the Ronin doesn’t double down on the trail-blazing vision of its predecessor, it is a more than capable sequel to a genre classic.

The “pop” of Culture of Volume reaches maximum efficiency with “Turn Away” and “Carousel”.... Elsewhere, the album’s triumvirate of club-centric tracks (the trance-tinged “Beaming White”, the Friendly Fires-esque “Hearts That Never”, and “Entirety”) are more difficult to digest.

While Holy Fuck once felt like an absolute anomaly, it’s interesting to see that their brand of electronic music has become something of a trope. Even more interesting, though, is whether they’ll continue to push farther into dismantling that and forge into even newer territory. There are hints of it on Congrats, though that’s balanced by the feeling of too easily slipping into a familiar groove.

Welcome Back to Milk gives Du Blonde’s blisteringly creative mind space to experiment, and her edits show immaculate choices.

Hallucinogen shows Kelela’s remarkable confidence and strength through a fragility and willingness to admit faults and weaknesses.

The two songwriters show moments of brilliance best appreciated while poring over the liner notes and lyric sheets. With some fine tuning, these guys could produce some fine content.

Coming so quickly after The Album, it shouldn’t come as a surprise that Europe doesn’t exactly mark a major reinvention for Jeremih. Some changes to his aesthetic might be in order; it can seem like he sings about sex and nothing else.

While some of it falls short of past greatness, the core of the album shows Lynne hasn’t lost his mad genius after more than a decade of silence.

A record as chaotic and full of life as the city that inspired it, Freedom Tower sweats with feverish energy. In the end, the Blues Explosion succeeds in honoring New York’s bevy of musical riches, even if it’s in their own off-kilter manner.

The biggest lapse on The Family, unfortunately, is that it’s one-sided. We don’t get to hear from the other members about how they feel it all went wrong. We’re not given a collage, just one vivid picture from Abstract’s perspective.

Any environmentalist messages, though, are deeply buried beneath layers of cobwebbed gothic lyricism.... Every member excels here, contributing to one of Cradle of Filth’s best and most fun records in almost a decade.

Purple Reign stands as a fine mixtape by itself--neither his best nor worst recent work, it nonetheless works perfectly as a preview of what’s to come.