As a whole, the albums works on a cohesion, transitioning from stronger, more powerful tracks (“Dynasti”, “Dean & Me”, and “All White Everything”) to the remaining eight cuts, which are breezy, quiet, and, sadly, quite boring, thanks to cheesier lyrics and lack of production effort.

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.

The lack of specificity blunts the potential trauma of Bad Love’s heartbreak, the trauma that its well-apportioned, dramatic music demands.

Crocodiles try so much that it can be an exhausting listen, but still there is enough here to keep this outing from San Diego's noise pop outfit from wilting.

Some experiments, like the twangy spring of "Witches in Stock" succeed, while others, such as the lengthy closer "Underneath the Fruit Flies", falter in unnecessary solo shredding and repetitious chants, more likely to inspire boredom than a riot.

It's not his most cohesive batch of songs.... But for a man who creates songs of which he says, "To me, they're for everybody to play," there's no reason not to include a little bit of this and a little bit of that.

Alone Aboard the Ark doesn’t tackle any major challenges that might have elevated The Leisure Society above an expanding pool of indie folk artists they’re now swimming amongst.

Deeply satisfying on multiple levels, Always Tomorrow is great guitar pop and a bracing account of one person’s struggle to construct a new life. Free of sugar-coating or easy answers, it should speak to everyone who wants to take better care of themselves.

Lights Out offers plenty of pop nuggets--a few of them punchy and expansive, most others losing steam right out of the gate.

Nothing Bad Will Ever Happen, as a whole, doesn't contribute anything terribly original to the genre, and as such doesn't make much of a lasting impression on the listener.

Whether acting the ranting wild man (“IV”) or the depressed New Waver (“No Fear”), Wahlfeldt draws you into his dark world with a knowing smile that says it’s not necessarily a bad place to be.

Singer John Orth's gentle vibrato is well positioned to channel the nervous, ephemeral innocence of boyhood curiosity.

The even-keeled approach stands tall on this mixtape, validation of the years of wisdom and brilliant intent under his youthful exterior.

Lost Control refines Dog Party’s tone into a crisp and punchy power duo dynamic that stays sickly around the edges.

It ends with a glorious resolution of two notes teased from Northumbrian pipes, so perfect and final that the reprise of “The Last Ship” seems redundant. Such honest moments make this album a worthwhile, if not fully rounded experience.

While(1<2) offers a more thorough understanding of the dance music culture than the main stage at Ultra has done over the last six years.

While it would be interesting to hear the album with sharper production and a little more focus, that would ultimately be its very end. This one thrives on the fringe.

Some tracks are pretty, some are ominous and haunting, a few are just plain fun, but all the songs on the Hanna OST are quality electronica from one of the genre's foremost acts.

The double album concept only waters down Kozelek’s biting social commentary and exquisite observations on living.

Too much of the same synth sounds and Kozub's too-hazy vocals (sung into an old analog vocoder that makes the melancholy lyrical content impossible to understand) leave the album lacking a certain spark.

Most songs comfortably fit into a category I maybe unfairly have in my head called “As heard on The O.C.”

Winehouse was an undeniably gifted singer and a unique talent. There are pieces of Lioness that reflect that clearly, and others that don't do as good a job.

["Dirty Laundry" is] so raw and visceral that we finely see her as intended: vulnerable, flawed, and totally real. She tries replicating that authenticity, but there’s only the uber-cliché “I don’t care; we’re over” anthem “Gone” and the album’s superficially enjoyable title track, which Rowland approaches with some intriguing level of nuance.

The problem is, Wale isn’t at the top, he’s simply borrowing that swagger from the A-list guests that decorate The Gifted.

There’s very little relief from heartache on The L-Shaped Man, but it’s such an emotionally naked record that its bleakness is oddly invigorating.

If there’s one knock against Santana IV, it’s that it might be a little too overstuffed, with a tendency to occasionally wander into the realm of the self-indulgent.

Initiation is the type of album that’ll please many, infatuate a few, and fade from memory for the rest.

While at the end of the day the formula still works, it just isn’t as fresh as it once was to demand immediate repeat listens. But Delta Machine does deserve repeat listens.

Although RNDM sound as if they are working in harmony on a variety of styles and sounds, Acts comes short of delivering something new and unexpected, the variety a sampler of things they've done in the past.

Provides more than enough reasons to keep Bosco Delrey's warm tunes on your playlist beyond the cold winter.

Will it be your favorite Primal Scream record? Probably not, but it’s a good record with a couple of killer jams--so roll a little face for old time’s sake.

Light Asylum is intimidating, but the band's goth pop comes with an undeniable groove that's still easy to enjoy.

In the case of The Rifles' latest album, Freedom Run, problems stem from a lack of variety throughout its 13 tracks.

Junkie XL never allows the guests to dominate the tracks, synthesizing polished layers by merging the strengths of outside players with his own multi-genre prowess.

The album is an interesting but probably forgettable footnote in the history of one of the most influential bands of the 21st century.

There are some great moments in New Wave revisionism. But, in the end, it isn't all that memorable, just something fun to toss on every once in a while.

Of course, it doesn’t make sense for Stewart to try to stand toe-to-toe with Simone’s vocals, but the close-mic’d, barely there vocal performance offered on Nina is a tragedy for a man who is a talented singer in his own right.

It's a out of focus Polaroid, a soggy Pollock demonstration, or, to stick with the name, an unfavorable maze. Given its short time, it's unlikely you'll write home about this one.

Call these cuts dark. Call them rockers. But they’re neither of these things when stacked against something much more simple and hard-hitting: sincerity.

Their shot at “salsa-punk” on new album Boys, though, misses the mark when it comes to differentiating them from the garage boilerplate.

Teen Daze’s latest effort is ultimately a pastoral that succeeds when it is allowed to gallop forward on the strength of its skilled instrumentation, and falters whenever Jamison opens his mouth.

Ode To Sentience, while it's far from being a radical departure, has plenty of surprises.

Raury’s simple, yet passionate rap delivery doesn’t fare all that well when forced into shared space with established stars of the genre.

Differentiating yourself isn't the same as creating quality music, and Patrick Stump has only managed to do the first and not the second.

By not leaning more on its crack staff of guest stars, Duets proves too safe and easy to live up to its name.

Yeah Right is a charming record, showcasing an act willing to broaden the range of its musical output. However, the album's instrumental sojourns and lyrical plainness feel more like science fair trial-and-error rather than true experimentation.

Taylor doesn’t hit the requisite hands-flailing-in-the-air, feet-stomping sweet spot we’ve come to expect.

Boucher chose to confront his feelings through song, and he did it for himself. The fact that he decided to share it with others seeking solace through sound is a gift.

Mylo Xyloto feels like the group's mid-life crisis.

Temple's solo work is an entirely different sound from his work with Here We Go Magic. It is warm, rich, and tinged in the soft, lo-fi fuzz of four-track recording.

Gallery does little to further their musical template, but piggybacked with Idle Labor, it does cement Craft Spells as a contemporary master of the genre.

Sound City: Real to Reel has its highlights, but the bad songs are hard to justify. Some collaborators don’t mesh with others, and all of them suffer from embarrassing lyrics.

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.

Lee may be an expert when it comes to lush atmospherics, but he’s simply not interested in pursuing the small mistakes that give a song its personality.

At its core, Golden Age speaks up like another highly anticipated LP with everything to prove, and the proof is in the pudding.

Dripping guitars and distortion follow Crystal Antlers' predictable style, but the messy trajectory of Two-Way Mirror requires serious tolerance for walls of noise to endure from start to finish.

The Hunting Party is the sound of a band with long-term tenure trying to find its place in modern rock, but its experiments seem more like an attempt to fling every trend from the past decade at the wall to see what might constitute a new direction.

At best, Pagans in Vegas recalls the heights that Metric once reached. Back then, they made it look easy, foreshadowing mainstream pop years in advance. They no longer sound like they can see the future, and even sometimes sound stuck in the past.

An un-ironic effort rooted in genuine curiosity of another era, but one that ultimately offers little that a dusty Madonna or Duran Duran compilation CD doesn't.

Ark’s sonic palette has broadened to encompass both ethnic instruments and contemporary sound effects.

While positivity is an accessible escape within music, his comeback surfaces nothing new, accumulating few tracks that stand out and many an overkill.

Fans of Rodrigo y Gabriela’s early albums will find much to enjoy on 9 Dead Alive. The duo has continued their journey toward creating a unique sound that stands astride the disparate worlds of flamenco, tango, rock, metal, and countless other genres.

He literally gives over five minutes of shout-outs, thanking people for their patience, but by the time we get here, our patience is run ragged.

This apparent quest for new sounds produced Death from Above’s belated sophomore slump, a collection of songs that finds the duo pulled in directions that play against their strengths and makes them sound, for the first time, a little dull.

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

The tracks all blend together into a generic folk album.

The result is that most of what makes Goulding's work appealing, such as her voice and instrumentation, is lost underneath generic synthesizers that turn these songs into standard pop fare.

When their punches land, you want to bless these guys for sticking to their guns and not growing up. But the misses are real and painful, and they make Taking One For the Team a far more embarrassing listen than it needed to be.

Banks succeeds in channeling the intensity of one man's regrets, ultimately looking outward and searching.

They do a serviceable job in a handful of styles, and that’s nothing to sneeze at. Methyl Ethel could be your next favorite band, but they just have to pick what band that will be.

Lost Loves isn’t without its charms, but it’s a frustrating listen that represents another self-imposed hurdle in the band’s development.

Throughout the album, it seems that Tankian is preparing the listener for something bigger, something serious.

Bridges' voice and guitar playing are also serviceable, but the lack of variety causes the album to fall short of becoming recommendable.

I'd like to hear Broken Bells at its strongest, not nestled into mediocrity.

It might not be the same magic, but something magical is coursing through Shiny and Oh So Bright, Vol. 1., hinting at a future we can all embrace--especially Corgan.

Daughter of Cloud knows exactly what it is, who it is trying to serve, and can hardly be criticized too sharply for having b-sides that sound like b-sides.

Alberta Cross sticks to its Atlantic Ocean-spanning guns on Songs of Patience, and more often than not, it hits the target dead on.

Although this isn’t a punk classic, My Shame Is True comes out swinging as Alkaline Trio’s strongest effort since 2008’s Agony & Irony.

At his best, Calder channels a disaffected claustrophobia, bearing down on twentysomethings lost and disaffected in their parents’ basements. It’s a bummer listen, but sometimes that’s warranted.

So, sure, Beady Eye's first effort is worth a listen. It's not a throw away by any means, and has its keepers, but it does come with its share of faults.

The misplaced agendas piercing Strange Clouds are minor hindrances to an otherwise creditable album that has enough juice to maintain significant staying power.

It boldly aims to tighten the gap between today and tomorrow in a time where heartbreak makes a single week feel like eternity, but it’s ultimately memorable only to Karen O worshipers.

It’s not a bad or poorly constructed release by any means, but it is emotionally monotonous, the sound of three incredibly angry dudes spewing their grievances about the world while impassably dense guitar distortion splashes around them.

Their first full length proves to be a commanding venture with unrelenting attitude.

Despite its flaws, it can at times be an unexpected and stunning trip.

The 23-year-old Tesfaye will almost certainly make a bigger, better record soon. For now, Kiss Land works fine as one of the year’s most fearless pop releases.

Before This World, though not a particularly remarkable album, reacquaints us with an old friend, one who we wish would visit more often.

At its best, KEN Mode grabs handfuls of patches from heavy, pissed off bands and sews them together into a single misanthropic flag. By honing in on a smaller set of influences on Success, the trio are forced to blow up their image to a much larger scale.

Something about the tossed-off quality of Teatime Dub Encounters feels like a missed opportunity.

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.

Pterodactyl's sound most figuratively Spills Out. Drink up and enjoy.

Relaxer represents ambition and a willingness to take chances. The downside is that it finds the band in a state of confusion, pulled in all directions and sacrificing a sense of cohesion.

For the time being, Lost Sirens may not "stay with you 'til Hell freezes over," but long-standing fans are sure to rejoice in this welcome blast from the past.

Top Ten Hits often sees a band with a highly stylized identity sitting inside of another band with a highly stylized identity. More often than not, these halves clash, one entirely overpowering the other, negating what makes the concept interesting.

As Weaver confesses to common pitfalls of falling in and out of love, The Fool spins on like a series of diary entries with no end in sight, quite possibly because Weaver has yet to decide how this story ends.

Ninth may not live up to what one expects from early Murphy or Bauhaus, however it does do its job fairly well, and it's unlikely that Murphy will top this awesomeness alone (unless there's a reunion of his old band in the works).

With its otherworldy cries, spectral synths, slow-burning beat, and the kind of impeccable production that would do Burial proud, "NoWayBack" is a four-and-a-half minute summary of the best of what oOoOO has to offer.

The duo has shed a lot of the excess sunshine, but the aspects of Condale that made it so irresistible,the knack for melody and the earnest tales of young love, still find a home on Always.