Although the surplus of features is at times overwhelming, The World Is Yours 2, is an extremely strong sophomore album.

The strongest thread running through the many sounds of Taste is Thorburn’s voice: a shot of whiskey in the hot cocoa sweetness of the record’s often upbeat tunes.

Free from the weight of living up to the Grammy-winning behemoth’s history, this 40-minute collaboration shimmers and contains the cheeriest laments about unrequited love you’ll ever hear.

The lo-fi approach largely works to his benefit, giving the album a homegrown charm. Even though the album has a couple stumbles and is a bit all over the place at times, the fact that he took a risk to redevelop his entire sound and still released an album as cohesive as Revelations is a feat unto itself.

Should I Remain falls much closer to earlier Islands’ efforts like their 2006 debut, Return to the Sea. Indeed, the band acknowledges this new record as a “spiritual sequel” to their first offering. This fact does nothing to assuage the feeling that it’s a slightly rehashed assemblage.

Drake’s new release may lack some of the variety of his previous albums, but its concepts and musical structure make for a solid body of work.

There are some growing pains to be heard.... When they shuffle enough elements around on La Di Da Di, it’s a thrilling experience to try to keep up with.

For those who already believe, it represents a promising comeback that, while never fully hitting the marks set for it by time or the band’s own peers, points to even more inventive, invigorated music on a horizon that likely isn’t another two decades away.

He’s a passionate performer with a gift for singing and winning over an audience, and that comes through on this record.

The Ship finds Eno’s music again foregoing the linear conventions of music and creating a kind of shapeless yet directed sound experience instead. More than that, the album is one in a long series of evidences that Eno’s limitations remain as near mythic as the man himself.

The album is heavier in massive live moment potential than extended narrative.

Like Gemini was to Nocturne, Life of Pause looks to be the rough draft of a new idea to be. Tatum still shows promise that he can combine that adventurous spirit and more fully encapsulating execution.

Musical diversity doesn’t need to be the name of the game for every song. Many of these just lack the immediate oomph that makes you realize how good the words being said truly are.

Despite the obvious throwbacks and Union Jack-dreaming accents, Presley’s songs, while brief, are more than just genre homages.

With a new dose of narrative flow, his second record keeps tighter boundaries than his first. It’s less adventurous but more driven, with sharper eyes on the road.

At any point, the record feels like it could fall apart into a pile of guitar chords and digital code. But when it hits the sweet spot, the wobble is infectious and compelling.

The Dessner brothers manage to curate a kind of open-ended question for each artist regarding how their individual musical language translates the work of The Grateful Dead.

Grohl’s music has cried out for, well, coloring and shaping for so long that it matters more that he’s finally sculpted an objet d’art, rather than Another Foo Fighters album.

It’s often messy and sometimes masterful, with the two records reflecting a revitalized band that’s found the footing that eluded them not in youthful disquiet, but in the complexities of getting older.

Lyrically and musically, Manslaughter is easily Body Count’s most inspired work since their self-titled debut, because it sounds like a reconciliation of all the misconceptions the band had to deal with in the past.

Oberst is best when his guard is down, and this album takes seven songs for that to finally happen.

It’s a solemn, languid ambience, like a late summer breeze--pleasant, but verging on boring. For die-hard fans of The Tallest Man on Earth, there’s plenty of material to latch onto here, but for everyone else, the music floats around so much that there isn’t much solid ground for entry.

While and the Anonymous Nobody won’t resonate with everybody, it’s still a glimpse into who De La Soul are today, where they’ve been, and what they’ve learned.

It’s often messy and sometimes masterful, with the two records reflecting a revitalized band that’s found the footing that eluded them not in youthful disquiet, but in the complexities of getting older.

Taken as a whole, the record doesn’t match the highs of its best material as often as it could, but there should be enough new ideas at play to hold fans over for the next six years.

It’s a shame to see Nokes not stretch her limits, and there are times the band would benefit from being bolder or angrier.

The most dependable dance band of the 21st century continues its consistency streak on Head Over Heels, which contains enough radio-ready rump-shakers to earn a spot in your warm-weather playlist for this summer and a few more to come.

In one way or another, nearly the entire album feels dependable, a true achievement for a duo who are just starting to sow their musical seeds.

An intensified ambiguity bathed in technological sentiment.

Man Plans God Laughs could have been a slab of endurance-testing ambition for the group’s latter-day era, but really, things only sound hopelessly awkward during the anti-establishment rendering of The Rolling Stones’ “Honky Tonk Women” (“Honky Talk Rules”).

There will be days when even Convertibles’ biggest fans want to hear something with more feeling, or at least tension. But few recent albums are better for drop-topped afternoons, and that’s something.

Disclosure has found the perfect center of the Venn diagram of house music and mainstream pop. This is music you can play at the club and play for your mom; it won’t take you anywhere you haven’t been before, but damn if you won’t have fun getting there anyway.

Last of Our Kind is nothing groundbreaking, but it shakes the Earth with pumping fervor.

Although his knack for delivering the “incredible hook” remains Cartwright’s strongest suit, there’s a weighty sense that all of this would mean nothing if not for his insatiable spirit.

Unlike recent guest-heavy works by Flying Lotus and SBTRKT, there is no glut of unwanted beats between peak performances.

The results make for a slightly more reserved, yet more effective turn for the band.

It’s been five years since those initial encounters, yet, as with all close friendships, the dialogue still flows as comfortably as ever across La Roux’s sophomore LP, Trouble in Paradise.... Still a pop record at the end of the day, the album is not without its share of weak lyrics.

No matter how deserving Lana is of accreditation, and how close she is to true vindication, less than half of the tunes on Lust for Life are worthy of Born to Die, Paradise, Ultraviolence, or Honeymoon, despite the handful of very promising singles that would make you think otherwise.

These may not be essential additions to the Anna Calvi catalog, but they’re also much more than mere covers.

Lyrically, she’s never been better. Vocally, never more dynamic. Those two alone should make for another breakout record, but unfortunately, the core of the band is left faint, robbing the music of the pulsating energy and raw sensation that initially made Bully such a head-turner. Thankfully, Bognanno’s voice and words are more than enough to carry a record.

Directors of Photography, both in its lyricism and musicality, upholds traditional rap principles with a commitment to the underground as an abstract ideal.

Previously, Mariah Carey has made it clear that she’s been through too much to care what anyone else thinks, shrugging off critics and denying all drama. On Caution, Carey has channeled that energy into the music itself.

It might be easy to get lost in the loveliness of all this, but there are exceptional songs that remove any threat of stupor.

Granted, the majority of Pollinator isn’t nearly as compelling as its singles, but it’s Blondie, alright: older, wiser, and confident enough to make music that’s true to their identity.

At only nine tracks, Methyl Ethel has no time for filler, so they make a statement whenever they can. During the first listen, you may pick up on some of their faults, but multiple visits can expose you to all their hidden treasures.

In a career predicated on being album artists showing the powerful link between repetition and expectation, Elbow appears to have hit a stride again.

As heavy-handed and impenetrable as that philosophy might seem, The Ark Work is still triumphant and interesting enough musically to keep fans satisfied.

Divorced from Marshall’s self-set high standards, the record contains a compelling portrait of an artist caught mid-evolution, and its most intriguing moments are worth putting up with its less-successful experiments.

Although Hyperspace can be dull at certain moments, Beck has discovered a new songwriting style that’s conducive to his adventurous tendencies.

Those who aren’t giving Williams the time of day are missing out on some of the richest, most tasteful pop of a generation. And G I R L, his first solo album since 2006’s In My Mind, is 47 more minutes to back that up.

The record retains some of the boundary-pushing and the jazz doesn’t always thrill, but it’s a record on which Jones sounds entirely familiar.

Lyrics have never been the strongest part of either of their music, and this is no exception. But there’s enough skill and joy in this music to make the listening worthwhile, even if Lennon and Claypool can sound at times like the cranky, old uncles of psychedelic rock.

The Dandy Warhols aren’t doing anything new on Distortland, and they still sound as dispensable and indispensable as ever.

While Miller and co. occasionally go too big in their goth-y appropriation of ’90s grunge and alt tropes, the album features a fair share of subtle emotional moments to combat them.

Magnetic Bodies/Maps of Bones falls into the same category as Maritime’s 2004 debut, Glass Floor, and their last record, Human Hearts: It’s an LP of several great songs surrounded by several just okay ones.

There is no palpable effort or discomfort on Huncho Jack, Jack Huncho, resulting in a perfectly fine album that no one will remember next year or maybe even next month.

While Cage the Elephant deliver a well-rounded record, this one’s not enough to vault them multiple steps ahead.

The Sides and in Between is an honest attempt at reviving rock ‘n’ roll, transforming it without the cheesy “those were the days” vibe.

Beauty & Ruin deftly negotiates Mould’s intended arc, but that doesn’t mean the record is without disappointments.

As one should expect from a Dam-Funk album, Invite the Light is richly musical and absorbingly singular.

While Author & Punisher is assuredly best enjoyed in a live setting, YouTube videos of performances and Shone explaining his machines suffice in bringing you into his world where, trapped and alone, a crazed inventor is forced into submission. And in that self-imposed cage, Author & Punisher comes alive.

All the pieces are in place; the composer and players are uncannily gifted for a rock band. All that’s missing is the will to transcend expectations.

II, which crosses the pond for the first time this month via Run For Cover Records, is a brutal, addictive piece of work that constantly spasms between hunger and anger.

Heaven Is Humming successfully builds on the foundation laid by Goon’s first two EPs, 2016’s Dusk of Punk and 2017’s Happy Omen. It’s a solid debut that finds the band stretching in a few different directions while remaining conservative.

These brooding, darkly shaded arrangements run the risk of being kitsch. But when Timber Timbre drop the horror pretense and focus on the neurotic ticks and inadequacies that come with romantic obsession, the band are at their best.

Despite not being the most innovative pop record in 2019. ... Happiness Begins is the best effort the brothers have put forth in their career together or separately.

After this long of a layoff, we’d probably be satisfied if a new Chic record simply ticked all of the expected Chic-shaped boxes and nothing more. However, for its first two-thirds at least, It’s About Time never settles for a pure nostalgia play.

Some ideas get recycled throughout the record, and there’s a tighter 10-track LP in there if listeners care to edit for themselves.

True to form, the album commands nothing less than the gluttonous nature of its mainspring: a hearty, robust experience that demands an insatiable appetite.

It’s still a relatively safe album, all things considered, but for Blink-182, new ground isn’t necessary.

This is an unpredictable album, thrillingly and engagingly so.

It’s a concise, hooky collection of songs with which the 32-year-old Potter has given herself chances to become bigger than ever as a solo name.

Eraserland is a somewhat indulgent listen. While it can occasionally lash out for a moment (“Moon Landing”), it might be best to tighten up the compositions for the next go-round.

Things Are Really Great Here is Bird’s own compelling lens looking at what those corners would be like, his own retelling of the way the book he pulled off the shelf described it, and a passionate, heartfelt, dutiful retelling at that.

With all these lovely and understated moments, Driver is a worthy and rewarding sophomore effort, even if it’s not the most dynamic.

Chapter and Verse--familiar as it is--also has an ace in the hole that just barely keeps it from being a shameless cash grab: the inclusion of five previously unreleased songs.

Hackney Diamonds might not be an album that’ll stand the test of time à la Exile on Main St. or Sticky Fingers, but they’ve managed to successfully keep the boat afloat for one more album, and that in itself is a mini miracle.

The production on Nausea remains consistently strong, even as songs progress, fade, and expand within themselves.

While not their best, Ruins certainly stands as First Aid Kit’s most cohesive album, focused on the determination of moving forward from heartbreak.

It’s charming and enveloping, but more importantly, it sets up Other Lives for future efforts now that their folk ties have been shed.

Local Natives’ original components are still in fine working order, but evolution shouldn’t sound this unnatural. They tried, but their discomfort with the equipment stops the songs from fluorescing.

This is good library music, good record-browsing music, good train music, good bus music, good walking music. Or, if you live in LA, good driving music. As long as it’s at night.

It would help if more of the album were idiosyncratic that way, but as is, Starboy is still the sound of Tesfaye knowing he has what it takes to be a major figure in pop music for a very long time.

Man of the Woods, a funky, country-laced experiment that’s not nearly as bad as its already damned reputation suggests. Though the lyrics might be.

The return to familiarity is a welcome one.

While some of that experimentation and ornamentation is thrilling, some is unneeded. Phase One works better when excess is lopped off.

Though there are some intriguing highlights, The Car isn’t anywhere near the evocative heights that Arctic Monkeys have reached throughout their now-storied career — and perhaps that’s the point.

The pop hooks may get repetitive from time to time, a fault much pop is guilty of, but the trio rework it to their favor when things slow down. For the first time in a long time, possibly a decade, Peter Bjorn and John sound best not when amping up a crowd, but when giving them a song to wave lighters in the air to.

Although each track aside from the instrumental “Liquid Light” remains prime for an indie-focused dance floor (thanks in part to production credits by Erol Alkan and James Murphy), a new sense of calm introspection arrives with the band’s revelations.

While solid, Still Life would need an extra push to reach an even higher tier.

A new Woods album will not always be occasion to reinvest, but they’ve become the perfect example of a consistently rewarding band worth checking in on every other year or so.

The sheer breadth of the album defies expectation, and though there is some pandering, the songs rarely compromise.

The eight songs that make up The Best Day represent a more measured and balanced record than fans might expect from Moore, but that shouldn’t be taken as a compromise of his irritable guitar rock instincts.

DeMarco doesn’t spend time wallowing. Instead, he crafted a companion piece to his previous works, fleshing out a fuller image of an artist “struggling” to find his place in the landscape of indie rock.

The five-night cherry-pickings are a fun listen, but Titus Andronicus need to make a descision: include properly ordered acts to squeeze the most out of The Most Lamentable Tragedy or include older hits to squeeze the most from a typical Titus Andronicus set. If the Jersey crew can make the slower numbers sound more amusing live, then maybe they can get back on track to find that original rebellion inside of them and, in turn, inside all of us.

Despite the uneven results between that last track and the album’s superlative opener, Goths is a record that grows on you.

At barely more than 30 minutes of lingering in spacey grooves, Many Levels of Laughter may not be as focused, but it certainly shows another intriguing, clever songwriter on the rise.

Gold and Stone jumps genres in a way that feels authentic and natural, navigating the fine line between pushing the envelope and holding onto the status quo.