The familiarity between Maricich and Dyne has resulted in the most earnest storytelling for The Blow yet, but without Bechtolt, the songs have lost much of the textured depth behind Maricich’s easygoing delivery.

Long Enough To Leave might not blaze much of a unique trail, wearing its love of the past proudly on its sleeve. That said, it still delivers its share of gems culled from other well-traveled musical paths.

Doing away with the big guitars and lean hooks that the label has championed so adamantly over the years, Deathfix settles warmly into a pleasant, melodic ’70s pop groove, one colored with plentiful flourishes and textured arrangements.

On Hope in Dirt City, he has worked out a record full of uniquely blended beats and bleakly grinning intelligence.

This soundtrack may be Hollywood-ized, but it’s also spirited in its reflection of America’s past 50 years.

The album bears Rogue's signature yet versatile voice and simplistic guitar-driven arrangements that recall his eponymous band's first album with the occasional grand gestures of Rogue Wave's later work.

Those hungry for the more immediate release of her techno might find parts of the album tedious, but LISm‘s long-form arc rewards a patient listener.

One of the problems Body Music faces is that it’s an album supporting a string of pre-processed singles.

At its best, Vessel's debut LP for Tri-Angle, Order of Noise makes you cock your head and wonder why you'd never heard that particular high-end squonk used in the place where a low-end splomp would usually go, the cards moving too fast to pick out the placement. At worst, Gainsborough's reliance on the value of shifting cards seems to trump what the cards actually are, and the fact that those three cards aren't ever leaving your sight.

Unfortunately (and as is the case with their past three albums), the band’s bash-it-out approach loses some steam by the end of the record. But if you’re down for unrelenting rock ‘n roll fraught with the bitterness of adulthood, The Bronx is your band.

In the end, Welcome oblivion is really just three stitched-together pieces used to create a living, breathing, albeit disjointed creature.

Underwater Sunshine (a play on The Soft Boys' classic Underwater Moonlight, another Duritz favorite) mixes live staples, pop classics, and more recent material from the Crows, offering the latest enjoyable, if inconsistent, glimpse into Duritz's record collection.

The flow of tracks leads, however, one by one to the end of the album, all without delivering a truly outstanding, cathartic moment, leaving behind a half-sated feeling.

There aren't as many powerful moments as on, say, a Ducktails record, but fans of that sound will find more to love here.

Honky Tonk finds Farrar once again bearing the brunt of Son Volt’s musical and emotional baggage, and that’s nothing new.

The trouble with Little Boots’ choice in house music is that there’s little room for experimentation. At times, lyrics rhyme just to be adhesive and the beats drone on and on and on.

These songs are gracefully played and pleasant, but- like water- they can grow drab and unsatisfying when consumed en masse.

Banjo, pedal steel, and fiddle show up on cue here and there with lovely results, but never to the point of distracting from the album's foundation of Irwin and her acoustic guitar just singing away their woes to each other.

Songs does not kill Rusko's brostep monster. It just drastically smooths out the edges and makes it a bit more ready for popular consumption.

Songs like "In Dreams" begin promisingly but grow stale, while others lack standout qualities.

Nocturne embodies one artist's sense of what pop used to be, so maybe the future will bring the perfect balance between his two albums, his ideal world.

This record completes the project, but feels less like a whole listening experience and more of a thought experiment into tribute, ownership, and what it means to love a song enough to recontextualize it on your own terms.

This is a solid record, but nothing to dissuade interest in some Aaron Freeman originals.

The strength of this record is that, even without sunshine to bolster it, these songs remain enjoyable and nuanced.

In the end, Vol. 2 earns kudos for delivering something strikingly suited for those weird days where paranoia and uncertainty creep in.

Aside from a sneak peek at LP number eight though, Earth Division doesn't offer much of anything new to listeners.

Nothing's wrong with stylized (uber- or otherwise) music (Paul's Boutique was, after all). But it helps when the craft behind the glitz is just as compelling.

Their eagerness to separate themselves leads to mixed results, feeling alternatingly awkwardly forced and brilliantly composed.