Although Bieber created a decent body of work, it's hard to get past that the sentiments of the overall message is skewed by the lack of effort towards creating music that addresses any sort of justice or lack thereof.

Though some of MG comes off unfinished and thematically skeletal, Gore does a fine job at utilizing a multitude of sounds on experimental-leaning tracks like "Creeper" and "Trysting."

Though the triumph of 1000 Days is its fusion of light and dark, there are some moments that feel out of place: the murky noise on instrumental "Dovetail" is a bit harrowing against the gentle acoustics on the title track, while "Little Dream," a 38-second spurt of woozy punk, appears and disappears out of nowhere.

falling or flying may fall a bit short of the expectations set by her debut, but it does fly in the face of what you'd expect of someone on their second outing as a solo artist. It's a solid effort despite some missteps — among the clutter is some of the best material of Smith's young career.

All in all, there's ample material on here for fans, even if Mount Ninji lacks a lot of the bite that made albums like Ten$ion and Donker Mag so fresh and exhilarating.

If you're a big fan of the band, or if you have been feeling nostalgic for the Reverend, check it out.

Hexed is better than its predecessor, I Worship Chaos, and certainly marks one of Bodom's better efforts of late. Old-school fans and newbies alike will be sure to find enjoyable aspects, but will quickly figure out which songs to omit when crafting their next workout playlists.

Donoghue and Holland continue to be unmoved by the larger cultural forces around them, producing a record that doubles down on their best and, at times, worst impulses.

Without something steady to anchor it all, Hello Happiness sound less like an album and more like a compilation of stand-alones.

Ash still generate radio-friendly tunes on Kablammo!, but they lack the depth that they demonstrated at their peak, and sound a little like they're merely repeating their post-millennial releases at this point.

The songs--though sparely produced as usual--sound picked over, like they've been played too many times and have lost their fire.

Songs like "How Will I Get Through This One," "If You Ever Have Forever In Mind" and "I'm Pretty Sure That's What's Killing Me" are good, but not in a "tour de force, let's re-introduce the band to a whole new generation with some familiar, but next level stuff"-type of way.

It's hard to hear a group fall so flat on the follow-up to an album like Subiza, but even though there are some bright moments, Apar is undoubtedly a letdown.

Tall Tall Shadow (the long-awaited follow-up to 2010's Heart of My Own) sees Bulat lifting her voice once again--high above the fussy introduction of electronic elements--to a place where joy and despair mingle in heady measures.

So Joy Comes Back might be on your shopping list, especially if you're already a Ruthie Foster fan, but take this advice: It's only half a great album, so keep it on the B side.

For the most part, the rest of the album is less head-turning, which that can translate to forgettable. Still, it's about time Taking Back Sunday shook things up, so the high points make Tidal Wave an effort that should please dedicated fans and appease the sceptics somewhat, as well.

While the arrangements are relatively unadorned compared to the original versions, Campbell's voice is strong, and the overall results are a dignified last letter to his fans. There may be little appeal beyond that.

The trio are adroit musicians with pleasant vocal abilities--loving the falsetto--and if you look past the over-indulgences, the album is solid, if not particularly memorable.

This isn't poppier than anything they've done over the past decade or so, but few individual songs stick out like good pop songs should.

For the most part of Concrete and Gold, it's the same anthemic, meat 'n' potatoes arena rock we've come to expect; a little more punk or metal aggression here, a little more acoustic balladry there, but the mould is the same.

While this project will likely infiltrate the Serato of many a nightclub DJ, there's little--outside the three or four cohesive, codeine-fuelled joints surprisingly carried mostly by Future--that reaches the potential of what What a Time to Be Alive could have been.

There are a few new sounds here — prominent vocal harmonies in the chorus of the opening title track, electronic snare hits and a soft synth hum on the saccharine "Looking for a Vein" — but for the most part, this is familiar DMB.

Similar to how Drake and Future on What a Time to Be Alive, the two collaborators have trouble finding common ground here. They're equally impressive in their own right but they rarely connect, and when they try on each other's styles, it's awkward.

It's a remarkably ambient record that is also hard to settle into and relax around; it definitely rewards active listening.

August By Cake gets interesting when tracks like "Warm Up to Religion" and "What Begins on New Year's Day" tap into the melancholy that's occasionally haunted Pollard's melodies. Aside from those tracks, though, he shows little interest in the tinkering that made his earlier work so interesting.

The best moments here are either instrumental or wordless, when Coyne's voice--which, though never technically impressive, always fit perfectly with each album's sound, whether it was the ragged bombast of their Soft Bulletin-era epics or the hushed haunt of The Terror--becomes a whispering (or even whistling) texture. Lyrically, though, Coyne appears to have exhausted any last nuggets of profundity he once had.

Though the production lags at times, Wiley's performance overall is still a fitting conclusion to his groundbreaking journey in music.

There's enough here to keep fans happy and even win a few more over in the process, but it's another mixed bag from a band that are easier to like than love.

These head-scratching moments mean that, despite the collection's successes, it probably works better as a sheet music oddity than a cohesive album.

In order to continue to excel, he needs to move past the solipsistic and look outward. He raps better when he does.

As tracks like the bombastic slow jam "Ascension" and the Drive soundtrack cast-off "Disclosure" add a bit of auditory depth to the album, much of Chiaroscuro runs at a dreary autopilot pace.

Despite 7 not being a fantastic project by any measure, the EP proves that Lil Nas X isn't a one-hit wonder and can find longevity in his career as long as he continues to show off his versatility.

Rubinos's major folly on Una Rosa seems to be her desire to push her craft forward and to challenge herself. And while that may be the main ingredient for truly groundbreaking music, she forgot to draw up a blueprint beforehand.

Mixing Colours shows Roger and Brian Eno at their most casual and unguarded, but there's simply not enough variety, curiosity or sense of adventure here to dub it as a must-listen.

It could have been much better. Kanye's foray into gospel should have been a heavenly experience, but it's half-baked, incoherent and ultimately falls short of godly.

At the expense of sounding more classically "Wolf Parade," the album suffices as a fun listen with some neat nostalgic nods, lopsidedness and all.

The thing is, despite the strength of the band (which also includes bassist Todd Sickafoose and guest Ivan Neville), much of the 12-song album feels like filler.

In the end, the album loses steam throughout, something that is only accentuated by all the potential bonus tracks.

It makes in confident swagger what it lacks in memorable hooks, but at 19 tracks, it's too imbalanced and stuffed to be considered a classic.

Yes, Pianoworks does have its beautiful moments of levity; Cooper is great at that. But the experience of listening to it feels very passive. It's happening, but you, the listener, are not so much involved as you are just in the vicinity. It doesn't wrap you up and envelop you the way Eluvium works often do.

Green's latest effort is a pleasant and sometimes surprising record. Yet, the album's constant adherence an identikit version of the '60s crooners struggles to land any outstanding tracks.

Although there are some standouts on the album, like the vocal push-and-pull of "Don't Move Back to L.A.," the soulful "Shelter Song" and the dramatic buildup of "Human Being Song," Sheff sounds rather lost throughout this album, hampered by indecisive arrangements and ambling verses.

Overall, while it does appear as though Angelides has been bitten by the sophomore album slump, there are some significant moments here that show an artist growing into something bigger and better than ever before.

Drenched in fuzzy guitars, '60s girl-group melodies and a dash of light punk (closer "When I Was Yours" blends all three), it has plenty of sticky hooks and sing-along choruses.

It's an uneven effort by a band that specializes in doing whatever the hell feels right.

There are layers to Bleached that are yet to be uncovered. Whether it's worth waiting for is a question still left unanswered.

Daybreaker sounds stripped down, not a step up.

It isn't without its flaws, but Rather You Than Me positions Rick Ross as the boss he's always claimed to be, his raps reinforced by lofty, gold-plated production and added lyrical depth that's as refreshing as a glass of Belaire Rose.

Dépaysé is for fans of Sinkane; new listeners might stop for a minute to appreciate the vibe before moving on.

Clarity, her debut album, falls short of capturing the breadth of Petras's rarity, excluding a few crystalline moments.

While the narrative correctly serves to examine our relationship with machines, and the execution feels as precise as something purely from the world of artificial intelligence, A Separation of Being struggles to find a sonic identity, which might make this a polarizing listen.

Yorke, it goes without saying, is a fine songwriter, so there's nothing particularly wrong with the solid AMOK. The problem is that there's nothing incredible about it, either.

On paper this is a solid album, and Plaid have pushed all the right buttons, but they've pushed those same buttons many times before.

The music lacks the sheer immensity that must have graced it originally, as it's virtually impossible to recreate something so grand at home.

Although the album doesn't repeat a verse-chorus-verse-chorus-breakdown formula, it also lacks distinct or memorable riffs.

The album has all the material necessary for a great release; it's simply lacking in its arrangement and execution.

Having more songs available to stream results in more royalties, though it doesn't equate to a flawless full-length.

Untame the Tiger feels more like something that was worked away at as a healing distraction, put down and picked back up at irregular intervals. The album’s first half generates a positive charge that tapers off toward its conclusion, but Timony’s sly guitar magic is always there to provide a jolt of life.

Plaid remain enjoyable, if a little stuck in a rut.

As a rock and roll journeyman, Lanegan's interesting direction on Phantom Radio is commendable even if it is not entirely magnetic.

Phair is at her best when she confidently picks a lane. Soberish is uneven because of her indecision, but it's still her best album since 1998's Whitechocolatespaceegg.

There are moments of suffering, self-pity and, eventually, redemption throughout the nine tracks, and although there are some missteps, Luke Winslow-King's I'm Glad Trouble Don't Last Always is admirable in its undertaking, and definitely worth the listen.

Bizarster is definitely worth a visit for Vibert fans and anyone who wants to relive some glory days, but considering the sheer size of his back catalogue, it's easy to see this one getting lost on the shelf.

Orth starts off with a very promising narrative, but soon loses the listener, and himself, in the world he's created.

The album is slippery, but perhaps not in ways that are interesting enough to memorable, and definitely not as much as his previous work.

O.N.I.F.C. starts off with "Intro," a Cardo and Sledgren joint that sums up the production: 808 drums, skittering hi-hats and saccharine melodies, although the atmosphere is meaner than Rolling Papers.

In Technicolor keeps this young duo striving to sound youthful and adventurous.

Thomas is still a little too fond of playing around with distortion on the vocals though, almost like a call-back to his really lo-fi days, and it sounds more out of place than ever.

The Behind the Green Door EP contains some of the most comfortably weird grooves we've heard from Laurel Halo.

While Eight Gates seems mostly germinal and is not the ideal introduction to Molina's work, fans will likely forgive the album's inchoateness and simply appreciate another dollop of the artist's distinct melancholia — nine tunes that underscore his attunement to suffering, inconsequence, and the brutality of the corporeal world.

It's opulent and immaculately composed but lacks the strong perspective that's usually central to FJM's work.

The Swizz Beatz-assisted "Let Me See Em Up," "Light it Up" and "Let the Beat Drop (Celebrate)" rarely do much to stand apart from filler. These occasional misses aren't enough to water down the entirety of Coolaid, though, with Snoop's return to G-funk proving refreshing enough to keep listeners' thirst quenched.

It's frankly still a pleasure to hear Lindstrøm masterfully keep everything in check, but there's a distinct lack of the full-throttle joyousness that he's capable of. If it was his intentional choice to temper that instinct, it was sadly misjudged.

While it's a huge pleasure to hear him pick up where he left off, this isn't the overwhelmingly triumphal return one might have hoped for.

Miracle Temple is still a wonderfully warm and welcoming record, but it never soars.

Sheff's lyrics, while typically verbose but economic, are more rambling here, but it's refreshing to hearing him cut loose.

This Is Not a Safe Place is a fine album with some songs that, with time, could become Ride staples. However, there are times where the band crumble under the pressure of bringing both a progression in sound, as well as a catering to their older audiences.

It's not an entirely off-putting mix, but it's only after a few songs that one starts to get a handle on what Branan's up to.

On Big Boat, their rambling new album, veteran producer Bob Ezrin (Pink Floyd, Alice Cooper, Lou Reed) does his best to emphasize the band's considerable knack for genre-bending exercises.

Blacc Hollywood, an LP titled like it might bring some overarching theme, is the audio equivalent of the Transformers quadrilogy: a series of in-your-face, mass-appeal blockbusters that lure crowds and teach them nothing.

On News from Nowhere, Darkstar have completed their transformation from playing in an overexposed genre to being in an irresolute one.

Animal Ambition showcases a very creatively confused 50 Cent, trapped in some sort of musical purgatory we can only hope he find his way out of.

Pink Floyd's final farewell doesn't deliver anything particularly unfamiliar to those acquainted with the Gilmour years. However, The Endless River serves its purpose as well as a collection of unreleased material can--it remembers an integral band member while reflecting on past glories in a reserved, respectable fashion.

Though wholly pleasant to listen to, The Wilderness occasionally dips into background music territory. And while it features some of Explosions' most exploratory music to date, the record is dragged down by passages that, despite the astro-nautical theme of the track titles, occasionally fail to reach the stratospheric heights Explosions are known for.

[Song One is] the album's crowning achievement and yet, at under two minutes, it's gone all too soon, a bittersweet reminder of the album that Nightstand could have been had Abbott built on this blueprint instead of sticking with a well-worn sound.

The album's peaks offer compelling paths forward for Gaga--the country balladry of "Million Reasons," the slinky pop of Florence Welch duet "Hey Girl"--but a dearth of memorable melodies makes Joanne's restlessness often feel aimless.

With Nun, Teengirl Fantasy sound pleasantly restless and resourceful, but there aren't enough transcending moments here to make this EP anything more than a stop-gap.

Lacks the clever subtlety of innuendos on songs like "Can I" (featuring Tory Lanez) and "F&MU." "Bad News," "Everybody Business" and "Open (Passionate)" are the album's standouts, showcasing elements of Kehlani's strongest contributions to music thus far, and highlighting her ability to make vulnerability a strength.

Aforementioned moments of experimentation show a continued development of Future's "Hendrix" alter ego, but there's something to be said for getting to know him over a longer runtime.

The cut-and-paste bursts here are beautiful, but they're few and far between.

More tempered and melancholy than on most of his Fruit Bats output, Johnson's writing owes some comparisons to fellow rockers turned film scorers like Jon Brion and Nathan Larson.

On their debut, Museum of Love have created a tight debut that seems more interested in its primal appeal than it does its cognitive.

It will undoubtedly take some time for fans of the band's earlier work to get acquainted with the stylistic shift, though A Perfect Circle's messaging might have benefited more from sounds tried and true.

Clocking in at just over 30 minutes, it doesn't overstay its welcome, but unfortunately it gives up most of its best moments by the halfway point.

While the band's attempts to recapture their old glory have typically felt like attempts to give fans what they've wanted from them--and the idea that of a bunch of old white men tying their authenticity to their black cultural forbears feels something like an ugly metaphor for this mess of a year--this is the Stones making music for themselves.

Tinged as they are by recent tragedy, each songs on In the End assumes a mournful, melancholic quality.

It's tempting to label Beard, Wives, Denim as a tossed off side-project that doesn't stray too far from its more famous parent band. But Pond have something more to offer and both fans and detractors of Tame Impala should give this a listen.

The only trouble is that nearly every track captures the same sense of John Hughes-worthy nostalgia, with no cut standing out above the rest.