On Impressions, Music Go Music have created a recreation of a bygone era with none of its character.

On her fourth album, inventive and demented singer/songwriter/guitar hero Marnie Stern whips up a potent batch of quirky, invigorating and, at times, beautiful new material.

The handful of breaks from his patented gutter raps aren't enough to compensate for the monotony in his dozen interchangeable guns-and-butter records.

Setting a heavy mood with opening track "My Life's Been Taken," Morlix sticks with it through the majority of the ensuing nine songs, painting bleak portraits of desperate men chasing love and money while on the run from past mistakes.

Pre-interlude, Bankrupt! is trekking along the right path; it's a futuristic journey into a foreign place for Phoenix, akin to a soundtrack for an updated Lost in Translation. But things quickly go off the rails once it spirals out of the dizzying interlude of flashing synths, losing its sense of melody and purpose.

Raspberry Bulbs paint a seductively dystopian image through Before the Age of Mirrors, but its aesthetic cannot fully carry the weight of its musical shortcomings. There is both too much runtime and too little substance here.

Green is too talented to not make a decent-sounding album, but Heart Blanche, while delivering Green's usually masterful take on gospel-influenced and pop-minded R&B, feels listless and lacks passion.

Beyond a few flaws, Matt & Kim have put together a fun record, and in the pop game, that comes first.

Things Take Time, Take Time is an exceedingly nice-sounding record — but with almost no quotable zingers, it's hard not to shake the sense that something is missing, is missing.

For what it's worth, we know Eminem is an incredible lyricist. We know he has punch lines that can pierce your mind and make you laugh. But what we don't know is whether or not he has anything real to say, and to his detriment, Music to Be Murdered By puts that in the spotlight.

It was always going to be tough for Dashboard Confessional to repeat what they were, but while maybe Crooked Shadows doesn't hit the heights that A Mark, A Mission, A Brand, A Scar did in 2003, it's still a welcome return.

Beaus$Eros yields some positive results while laying the foundation for some interesting future projects.

While McVie's voice seems to have held up quite well, it's all but lost behind multiple layers of effects, combined with gratuitous use of shakers and other percussion. As for the songs themselves, most are simply fair-to-middling pop songs.

The result is an adventurous but inconsistent affair that suggests Clams Casino has plenty of ideas — and perhaps his masterpiece--still in him.

Ducktails have an expert ability to create a dreamlike sound; hopefully, the next record will be bolstered by a few more memorable songs to make it a dream worth remembering.

Doris isn't the classic many anticipated, but it is a strong, uncompromised debut from a very talented young rapper. For now, that's enough.

There are moments here where he manages both [his popstar ambitions and his affinity for paving his own sonic path] in one fell swoop, but on his third time out, he can't sustain the momentum for an entire album.

Take the Sadness Out of Saturday Night, Antonoff's third album as Bleachers, is at best a heartfelt batch of tracks that are nice to experience in the moment, but rarely anytime after. This doesn't mean there aren't a few glimpses of the full potential of Bleachers' musical direction; they're just crowded by much of the same heard on records past.

Sharp laments the weakening of expression though technology, which is fitting, as this applies to the album. Where there were once fireworks, the Rentals still deliver a bit of a lazer show.

Although there are no real revelations on Intermission, Shigeto demonstrates yet again what he does best.

The tech-house producer has attempted to cultivate his dusty electro landscapes, leaving the listener with seven hearty compositions built upon loose and fertile groundwork.

It's exciting to see artists try and change and evolve their sound, so while it doesn't always work here, Seth Bogart definitely shows enough promise to make one wonder what future non-Hunx recordings from Bogart will sound like.

Sure, there are more awesome parts on Wolves Within than you can shake a (drum) stick at, but so too are there plenty of misplaced ones.

Peace Is The Mission is equal parts tepid and garrulous, making it hard to get an overall read on this project. Probably best to not overthink it.

Where once we witnessed the group tilling the fields, Thrice Woven presents the bounty on a shining plate. WITTR still provide a plentiful feast, but the sense of having earned Mother Nature's gifts is diminished.

The record still meanders around a bit too much, in the way instrumental music can, not quite sure where it's heading when it should be soaring. When it does soar though, it hits some pretty giddy heights.

On Hormone Lemonade, Cavern of Anti-Matter have created an inventive piece of art that could have benefited from a bit of self-editing and a some of that old style vision.

Stars Are Our Home is too much of a hodgepodge.

While mere scribblings from a musical genius can often still trump the best efforts of many, this is not the case here.

Like every Chili Peppers album, the 13-track The Getaway suffers from bloat.

The result is a fine summer pop record that encourages listeners to approach as they will.

Despite the EP's virtues, that's a lot of excess fluff for a collection with just five tracks.

Civil Disobedience functions well as a single purpose stoner rock record, but fails to offer anything new or exciting.

Al Jourgensen's signature vocal bark remains unchanged, but things have slowed down musically. Fans of Ministry's lightning-fast thrash moments will be disappointed by the record's grinding pace.

It's in these moments--when he's paying attention to melody and songwriting--that Kiss Land demonstrates plenty of promise and tentative steps in the right direction.

As there's been no sign of new material from Paradinas in the past half-decade, Challenge Me Foolish is just interesting and familiar enough to keep µ-Ziq fans satiated, even if it is inferior to Royal Astronomy.

Beneath the Skin is too humdrum to garner any new acolytes.

As you can imagine, BE doesn't tread any new ground sonically, but for fans of the group, and likely Beady Eye themselves, it's a welcome distraction as we wait patiently for an Oasis reunion.

What drew people to Tuttle's music to begin with was that delightfully dissonant combination of sweet singing and monster-shredder guitar playing, and that's just not what this album delivers.

While there's room to reflect on things like dynamics and vocal mixing (Perry's ancient cackle sometimes gets blurred, patios aside), and while Perry is one of the best mixologists in history, Must Be Free is not his best.

Innocents contains some great vocal performances and catchy hooks, and despite the tent ropes being held down by the weight of mediocrity, it'll please many Play-era Moby fans and radio listeners as ideal background music for patio conversations about how their stocks are performing.

Antemasque isn't quite the return to form that fans of ATDI and Mars Volta might be expecting. As far as fresh starts go, however, it's a promising one.

While the half-tempo sections and increasingly unique guitar solos differentiate this material from that of the past, Everblack ultimately falls under the shadow of its predecessor.

Thanks to the lack of coherence or variety though, nothing on Die Lit really sticks. It's fun enough but, save for a few keepers, has the lifespan of a mayfly. Rock to it for the summer and forget most of it by September.

First Ditch Effort doesn't match NOFX's '90s peak, but it rights the ship somewhat, and goes a long way to re-establishing the group as worthy and relevant elder statesmen.

Despite its "six years in the making" descriptor, Allegiance and Conviction feels more like an EP of collected experiments toward a new, more realized work. A satisfying stop along the way to the main attraction.

Nothing on Breakin' Point really hits as hard as their earlier work. Peter Bjorn and John are having fun on this album, but occasionally get a little lost in the dance moves.

Encyclopedia finds the Drums throwing everything at the wall, seeing what sticks, and then releasing the results as an album.

Where it stumbles as a concept record, it only sometimes succeeds as an art-rock record. As it turns out, an important idea does not an important album make.

It's all a tad by the book, but the book is well loved and worth re-reading, so why not?

There's enough here to satiate fans--"I Don't Like Who I Was Then" is as good as their best work--but there's an underlying sense that for the first time, the Wonder Years have missed the mark.

For a band that's spun fanciful yarns from the farthest reaches of time and space and the inner recesses of their own minds, this grounded perspective could be another interesting change of direction. But for now, it feels more like a retreat.

Stalley showcases eclectic strengths on this release, but focus certainly isn't one of them.

On Visibility is a Trap, Dalhous deliver another handful of terrific dark ambient music that will hopefully give way to braver, newer waves.

This is a collection of songs that wink at what previously made this band great and hint at some interesting paths forward, but ultimately declare that BNL have simply become unrequired listening.

Tory Lanez manages to inject Memories Don't Die with a few quality tracks, but overall it misses the mark on classic appeal.

At its worst, the effect is soporific, but if you're looking for a comforting, cushiony soundscape, Cala is good company. It's when Regan opts for crisper, more invigorated sounds, though, that the album really shines.

The stuffed effort could be Lil Baby's attempt to showcase his growth. But one mark of artistic maturity is exercising restraint — less is often more.

The result is a fine record, but one that ultimately fails to leave a mark.

Despite their proficiency, the Messthetics' individual talents don't entirely gel as an ensemble yet. Their debut is flashy, but it won't bring them out of the shadow of Canty and Lally's more famous projects.

Rival Sons are a great band with a great sound; the only thing they're guilty of is doing what they do really well, but then exhausting it over and over again.

While these eight tracks rarely involve an epiphany either narratively or musically, their anecdotal nature is a reminder that not every story has an ending, and that the memories that stick with us are often the ones we don't fully understand.

On Electric Lines, Joe Goddard shoots for something eclectic and exciting, but settles for something sporadically enjoyable at best.

The record packs familiar Function trademarks--industrial themes, hissing white noise, acid loops and retro rhythms--but the ideas fall short of reinvigorating the legacy established after Sandwell Disctrict's full-length, Feed Forward, landed in 2010.

Although Simian Mobile Disco have the ability to give each track its own distinct personality, Live is a mere curiosity for even the most refined technocrats.

What we get on Psychedelic Pill are stream-of-consciousness attempts ("Driftin' Back"), along with musings on the grim reality of old age ("Ramada Inn") and the regrets that come with it ("Walk Like A Giant").

Eight months on, Unknown Mortal Orchestra return with Blue Record, a chilled acoustic EP that grooves down and quietly electrifies.

The influence of R&B is like a silky-smooth cloud over the proceedings, raining drops of liquid gold that permeate the music. Those looking for the energy of Da Trak Genius might be disappointed by the polish, but true footwork junkies will find shining moments worth drooling over

Not enough to likely attain crossover appeal, but definitely hitting a sweet and soulful spot, Alice isn't Adele, but she doesn't aspire to be.

On Generation RX, Good Charlotte regain their connection with the Youth they claimed to be an Authority on by speaking to them, not at them. Funnily enough, focusing on darkness and dealing with it has provided them with a light to chase and pushed the gleam at the end of their tunnel farther into the distance.

By the end of the project, Quavo Huncho begins to feel more like a mixtape, with Quavo popping out to add a few unenergetic verses and repetitive adlibs rather than a strong solo debut. Quavo Huncho's individual features provide more of a draw than every solo track combined, proving that Quavo still needs some time to grow and develop as a solo artist.

Romance still relies on a structure that is becoming increasingly irrelevant, which ultimately overshadows many of the album's redeemable moments.

Oak Island has a deftness that makes it hard to resist, but some songs disappear under the weight of everything that's transpiring.

While El Pintor is no Turn on the Bright Lights or Antics, the record finds Interpol climbing out of their mediocre rut, slowly but surely.

The End of That has more outstanding moments than La La Land, but whether those highlights are enough to neutralize Plants and Animals' weakness for occasionally derivative kitsch depends on how much their fans are willing to overlook.

There's a handful of above-average tunes here, and an earnestness that suggests Harry Styles will have a fruitful solo career.

The results sound predictably off-the-cuff, and several tracks like "Jaw Dropper" and "I've Got Money On My Mind" sound like little more than microphone level checks. But when Williams decides to say something meaningful, as on "Dirt," "A Good Day To Feel Bad" and the title track, his sage-like delivery is as devastating as ever.

All A Man Should Do is the band's first album in three years and could do with more of the tenacity that has made them crowd favourites, and less of the self-pity.

The star power of the record's guests overshadows the album's best moments.

Much of the record plays like a series of short acoustic interludes: pretty, at times insightful, but evanescent more often than not.

We can say that the real Slim Shady does show up and prove himself on a handful of Revival's songs, but many of the more 'noteworthy' moments are buried under a mountain of contradictions and cringe-worthy attempts at shock value.

While the artistry is evident in his picks, Moodymann's execution here could've use a more deft hand.

While Ghost on Ghost is outstanding in places, it's too uneven to hold up to Beam's best work.

United by Madlib's crackly, jazzy samples, messy scratched hooks and bizarre sense of humour, Yessir Whatever is a gleeful trip down the rabbit hole of psychedelic rap.

Dealing with Demons I has its moments, but the music is ultimately plagued by the inescapable realization that DevilDriver are better as a band than as Dez Fafara and company.

All the Ways You Let me Down is a charming record with plenty to like, just not enough to love.

Unmistakeably, each track encapsulates the old and new in Wire's musical history.

Two years of touring has allowed DZ Deathrays to realize their capabilities as songwriters and with Black Rat, it's clear they've got their sights set on bigger and stranger things.

This is well worth having for fans that have worn out Mare or Terra, despite the fact that the immersive, soothing qualities that balanced the angularity on his previous releases have been ditched in favour of often shrill, jarring timbres.

On the very next track, "Weapons," the production becomes quieter and dreamier, losing the noisiness and dirtiness that made Dälek so appealing in the first place. This continues throughout most of the album, which exchanges the sharpness of Absence for the gentle breeze of a drone record. If the group increased the focus on MC Dalek's rapping as a trade-off that would be fair, yet for most of the record his vocals are given an oddly low priority in the mix.

Next Thing is more likeable than moving, neither as intimate as her strongest bedroom recordings nor as revelatory as Zentropy.

The confident strut and orchestral accents of "Poisonous Shadows" are somewhat cheapened by ill-advised whispered backing vocals, and the songwriting bottoms out in a handful of places. Still, it's miles ahead of their rather forgettable last album, and there's still enough here for fans to celebrate Megadeth getting back on track and starting a new chapter in the band's storied career.

There's some really great songwriting on the album and a handful of tracks worth adding to your daily rotation, but it viciously grabs your attention without being able to hold onto it for very long.

We All Want the Same Things won't quench the casual fan's thirst for new drunken bar rock anthems, but for those willing to listen a bit more closely (and quietly), Finn's solo work still provides some stories worth hearing.

A touch of '80s-style production, including occasional saxophone-as-emotional-beat, at times threatens to nudge things into a satirical mash-up of Dire Straits/Bruce Hornsby hits, but they ride the right side of that precipice.

He sets ideas down, leaves them to move about, interact and then finally imposes his considerable intuition for the dance floor to form a convincing sonic drama.

Smalhans is an enjoyable listen, though it's creatively limited when compared to Lindstrøm's previous work, not providing much more to the listener than a feel-good album.

Though billed as a Mr. Tophat project first and foremost, Trust Me is ultimately weighed down by his collaborator's past triumphs. Though they are no doubt killer floor-fillers, outside the club, these three songs can't quite hold listeners' attention.