Breaking up the band's predictable metal onslaught is the mid-tempo stomp of "Morrigan," the slow-burning "Prayer for the Afflicted" and the ballad-esque "All for Nothing." While they're each a welcome reprieve from the sameness, these moments inadvertently temper any more chaos that could have perhaps been unleashed.

A raucous centrepiece it is not. A soundtrack for a nightcap alone though? Absolutely.

This record accomplishes what it sets out to do, engaging the listener with indisputably catchy moments, if a little inconsistently, throughout.

Throwaways make the ten-song album feel low on substantial ideas: there's enough material here for a solid EP, but it's rather thin for a full-length. Still, as a modestly enjoyable throwback to 2006, it gets the job done.

While Sex & Food is a disjointed effort with Nielson's usual ingenuity wavering at times, fans will undoubtedly find favourites in certain tracks. It's an anxious, up-and-down affair, with moments of reward sprinkled within its lethargic haze.

Scott's hedonistic lyrics about sex and drugs remain awfully vapid for what's been billed as a trap masterpiece (the utterly banal "SDP Interlude" takes the cake). ... Scott's strength, of course, continues to lie in his ear for beats, with part of his appeal being his ability to make songs with less than rewarding subject matter still sound cool.

Those familiar with Silver's work know he is fond of smaller-scale thematic/stylistic exercises like this, and on these grounds On Vacation succeeds nicely, but those looking for a bolder artistic statement may be disappointed by its conventionality.

Reassemblage is compelling, sure, but perhaps only for those who have the patience or curiosity for an exploration of the sonic predecessors of electronica.

The indecisive saga of Soulfly continues: sometimes their albums are quite good, sometimes quite bad and sometimes, like this one, they're just in between, not leaving much of an impression at all.

Everett has always been loathe to stand in one place for too long so it's quite possible that we'll see yet another side of him in a matter of months. For now, The Deconstruction is a rather rote and lackluster return.

Masquerading as a complement to SYRE, ERYS is a near replica of Jaden's previous effort, whose similarities run too close to repetition to make a true impact. The four-song arc that introduces the album (the "PINK" to SYRE'S "BLUE") doesn't quite hold the same ingenuity the second time around.

In some ways, it works; the songs on Mind of Mine certainly skew towards more mature content and a sleeker, less bubblegum-y pop sound that's implemented expertly by producer Malay on silky smooth PBR&B-lite ballads like "It's You." It works less well on cuts like Kehlani collaboration "Wrong," which is gratingly heavy-handed with the Auto Tune--a problem that again rears its whiny head on "Fool for You."

Presented as a new studio album, it only manages to recapture the band's spirit, rather than its soul.

It's an album that sometimes benefits from its wealth of ideas but often finds itself trying to find its way back to a central one.

At times, the blend is less than palatable and, frankly, too busy, as on the title track. However, this franticness is occasionally contrasted by a song that manages to draw you in.

Likewise checks all the boxes of a "good" album, but it's also a bit boring. It's too much a showcase of Quinlan's lyrical acumen, which is incisive, but the record doesn't strike a visceral chord.

With every moment on Internationally Unknown I find odd, I ask myself "was that intentional?" Because I usually have no idea. ... Internationally Unknown is fun and probably not intended to be examined too far past the surface.

It's evident that the two were having a good time recording Hokey Fright, and though the album isn't always successful, it's encouraging to see creative individuals ignore genre boundaries in order to bridge gaps.

If you can get past the haughty lyrics on "Fickle Sun (ii)," for instance, then its minimalist piano notes will surely impress. And yet, even that song's musicianship sounds downright conventional compared to preceding tracks "Fickle Sun (i)" and opening track "The Ship," a 21-minute composition that begins with solemn synth moans like a distant vessel's horn.

Unfortunately, there are a few too many moments with a "more is more" approach, and they hold the record back.

Aside from her moving rendition of little-known folk artist Zoe Mulford's "The President Sang Amazing Grace," Baez chooses songs that are close to her heart and represent her long journey, political struggles and ideals succinctly.

While the tension between live and synthetic elements is interesting to listen to, Homosapien lacks the kind of grand creative spark that's often born from this.

While the album is a fine showcase for Kim's beautiful, ageless tenor, those expecting more of the singer's soulful, sunny hits or Broken Social Scene's sonic adventurousness are likely to walk away a bit disappointed from It's Decided's classy, if a bit monochromatic, adult pop.

A Series of Shocks shoots for a different kind of looping hypnotism but lands slightly short.

This collaborative album, It's Hard for Me to Say I'm Sorry, casually sits somewhere in the middle between tonal ambience and noisy dissonance.

Five Spanish Songs is satisfying enough for its 20-minute runtime, but it definitely lacks the heft of his recent work; without his distinctive lyrics, it doesn't really feel like proper Destroyer.

This Connecticut group's latest recording, the four-song, unplugged effort It Kindly Stopped for Me, makes for a less instantly gratifying record that may take a certain kind of hurt to really understand.

On Calling from the Stars, Miss Kittin's ambition comes off as both a blessing and hindrance; it's a cycle of ideas that unendingly feel very close to wearing out its welcome.

Glass represents Hunn's most mature musical sensibilities to date; however, the instrumentation throughout the album is so sporadic and indecisive that it's unclear what its ideal listening setting might be.

When Collegrove is good, it's very good. Unfortunately, it's tough to hear this project as anything but a crude marketing move to keep both rappers relevant until their next solo projects.

While Savage Mode II is by no means a lacklustre album, it may not be the exact product their fans hoped for.

While Container doesn't sound like he's challenged himself creatively on his most recent album, listeners who have yet to hear his indistinguishable, ear-splitting sound will find some auditory excitement.

It's not quite as bad as you might think. I mean, it's only embarrassing 40 percent of the time, which for Seinfeld, is pretty impressive.

Wilkinson's eighth full-length shows the musician's adeptness at thoughtful, patient compositions, but he seems to have forgotten the value of self-editing.

GLUE will appeal to fans of '90s alternative rock who are looking for more, but will continue to alienate Boston Manor's longtime pop-punk-loving fans.

While Northern Chaos Gods unmistakably sounds just like Immortal, one can't help but wonder how amazing of an album it could have been had Abbath been involved to complete the phenomenal trio that Immortal once were.

If you don't love Kweli, Gravitas won't change your mind, but lifelong fans will definitely find a lot to appreciate on this slight but enjoyable album.

At 13 tracks and close to 70 minutes in length, Abaporu just contains too many (albeit many terrific) ideas and stylistic flourishes to properly cohere as a singular work.

It offers the impeccable, twangy power-pop aesthetics--but also the oversimplification--of [Lucinda] Williams, and the sparkling, immersive production and raw honest lyrics--but also the never quite on key-ness--of the latter [Billy Childish].

Overall, No Cross No Crown is for diehard fans; those who want to hear something new will be disappointed.

On Nights in the Dark, California X are comfortable in their own skin and playing at the peak of their powers, but the album would have fared best as a pared down EP nonetheless.

It has brief sparks of a fresh creativity and has plenty of potential, but doesn't take steps bold enough to totally reinvent itself, making for a record littered with moments that let it sink into the forgettable parts of the band's catalogue.

Corny super group-nostalgia act trying to live up to the untouchable legacy of the members' previous bands? Or timely, and much-needed visceral response to trying times? It depends on your outlook. Prophets of Rage might not be the rap-rock group we need, but maybe they're the one we deserve.

American Man seems to fall into the same [alt country-lite] formula, leaving little space for new ideas. They make up for that with enthusiasm and just enough grit; for those who like their country punk-y, raw and simple, American Man is a breath of fresh tobacco.

Berberian Sound Studio is far from an essential album, but it's definitely a welcome surprise addition for fans of Broadcast, the movie itself or fans of Italian horror soundtrack artists such as Goblin.

Nokia wears many hats throughout the album--but each personality feels authentic. There's never a sense that she's masquerading. Despite Nokia's artistry, though, Deluxe has a few marked flaws. Her cadence and punchlines are amateurish at times, and there's something flat about the production and overall mix. ... Overall though, Deluxe is a solid effort that proves this Harlemite has the range. Fans will surely delight.

Though Armstrong does a decent job of speaking for the freaks and the rebels, Green Day's music is always at its best when he's speaking for himself, and Revolution Radio is no different.

The band's 10th album, is basically standup comedy that transcends parody by being so utterly silly that it's almost charming.

If you're not familiar with Kinski, you may find yourself expecting vocals to kick in, but when they do on the next track, "Flight Risk," the skeezy, barfly style feels tossed off and has a cheapening effect on the song. Conversely, "Operation Negligee" features the most satisfying vocals on the album.

His songs no longer have the raw-nerve urgency they once did, which makes Upside Down Mountain a pleasantly peaceful listen, but lacking the power and urgency of his best work.

Tales From Wyoming stays safely in the established genre without trying to be groundbreaking, but simplicity and quirky immaturity are the bread and butter of pop punk, and there's enough to satisfy here.

Though certainly not as compelling as Vile's more recent work, the Jamaica Plain EP is worth a listen if only to dig deeper into the musical past of one of modern indie-rock's most celebrated performers.

Triage is worthwhile in its own right, but it falls just short.

California plays out less like an album and more like a collection of songs; uneven and disjointed, it's hard to take in as one larger whole.

The album starts out blazing with Fogerty and the Foo Fighters doing "Fortunate Son," and that pace is largely maintained all the way through to a rousing "Proud Mary," with Jennifer Hudson, which manages to simultaneously pay tribute to the Ike & Tina version and the song's original New Orleans inspiration.

Non-Believers is an easy record to enjoy, but there isn't much more going on.

Too bad the music isn't as varied. In replacing keyboardist Sasami Ashworth with bassist Devin O'Brien, Cherry Glazerr have gone from wiry and versatile to big and bulky, but their titanic low-end quickly becomes stiflingly repetitive.

Wistful and introverted themes abut against a handful of more fraught moments, where the memories turn from monochromatic to colourful clusters, like autumnal avalanches of melody.

It's clear the Blaze are still passionate about the music they make, so listeners looking for an album full of songs like their earlier material are sure to be satisfied. Those looking for adventurousness and growth may not find all that they're looking for.

There's endless potential in this collaboration, if only they'd take a more confident leap into the unknown.

Commerce is pulling more gears than art here. Simply skip the lows and ride the highs. Because when Khaled does hit, it can still be fun as hell, like gorging on popcorn and 'splosions.

They're not back at their best, but on Everything Now, Arcade Fire once again sound like the world-beaters they were on The Suburbs without forgoing the acidity, swagger and scope of Reflektor.

Animal Races is an homage to a bygone era, and a terrific one at that, so while it's far more influenced than it could ever be influential, it does have the potential to inspire sentimentality among those who lived through the era to which it devotes itself.

If you've got a unquenchable thirst for reverb-y guitar pop, The Flower Lane is a pleasant album worth a listen, but those looking for something more should probably look elsewhere.

While the tracks are still heavily Black Sabbath-influenced, unfiltered doom, they don't live up to the expectations of what Wino-era Saint Vitus should be capable of.

As the ninth addition to the Wilco canon, Star Wars is a vessel for a few impressive tunes, another respectable--if just a little uninspired--step for a band that continues to unapologetically evolve

Gone are the crushing riffs and transitions, replaced with subdued progressions. It's a real blight on much of the record, unable to keep the listener enthralled or interested.

While Bunny is fairly consistent across the board, there isn't much that sticks out here.

In 2014 this just seems like the kind of better-than-average album that befalls way too many British musicians past their prime.

Unfortunately, The Official Body remains confined to rudimentary rock arrangements and rigid structures. It doesn't reconcile these contradictions until its final three tracks, which makes for restless, if brief, listening in its middle entries.

Vår exhibit an ambition to spiral as far as possible down into some dark abyss while maintaining a constant impression of strange beauty.

Though unlikely to win legions of new fans, this is another impeccably crafted psychedelic rock record sure to please fans of the genre.

Nihilistic chugging riffs permeate the album from beginning to end, thundering away and drilling a particular tempo into your head. But this repetition isn't served by the sort of groove that previously was a keystone to Electric Wizard's sound.

While the first half of Power Of Anonymity subtly effaces any semblance of her live sets, the bottom half thankfully picks up the pace and salvages what could have been a very straightforward, if not dull, dance floor-aimed release.

Cynical and crushing, Bright New Disease is the sound of a short-term supergroup flexing their technical skills and boundless musical knowledge. It stands as a commendable and blistering — albeit slight — diversion from either band's respective output.

If Snoop could just cut his track lists in half and focus on well-crafted party songs, the Doggfather might just find himself back on top.

Free Spirit is Khalid's coming-of-age story: it's well-constructed, but already feels too predictable at this point.

Like many slackers with a heart of gold, Fulvimar is full of interesting ideas on this record, but can't seem to put in the work to flesh them all out.

Fans of Wolfmother and Pallbearer might see this as the second coming of Sabbath, if they liked more At the Gates. But those who are looking for a bit more fuzz won't find it. Melodies, not distortion, drive this album.

It feels like a coherent album as opposed to a loose collection of songs. There are stumbles, but given the band's history, they feel minor.

Sum 41 in 2016 is a lot like their early 2000s pop punk peers Blink-182; they're fun, capable of writing at least a few songs worthy of an inevitably forthcoming "best-of" compilation and at their best when embracing their past.

Don't You puts up a strong front that should connect with fans of all those aforementioned artists, but Wet's debut only connects with contemporary R&B, never pushing it forward.

For those of us who've been following his twisting career for decades, for a lifetime, it's hard to complain too vociferously when Neil Young makes yet another daft musical statement. It's just what he does. Sometimes it works; often it doesn't.

The ambience of Second of Spring is pleasing for sure, but there's nary an earworm in the 17-song bunch.

While the sound of this is pretty uniform the quality is all over the place and very dependent on the song being covered.

Pure & Simple is at best a middle shelf release in Parton's discography.

The London producer emphasizes structural variety over substance, and relies on former sonic signatures to push a release that remains distinguished within the electronic landscape. However, in the context of his oeuvre, Young Death / Nightmarket listens like just another cut of the same.

A Head Full of Dreams might have been a poptimist masterpiece. Instead, it's just another Coldplay album, with all the baggage--both positive and negative--that entails.

Though not nearly as essential as their first two albums, Long Live finds Atreyu reaching higher than they have in almost a decade.

Across the record's 12 tracks, Lavigne tries on a variety of styles, inhabiting each with ease, but rarely manages to rise above and make the sound her own.

Untogether does manage to lose its grip on your attention, at times, falling back on a bit of redundancy, but when it takes hold, it grabs you by the ears and fills them with a wistfulness that haunts you for days.

Rub is fun for a few listens, but it's hard to really fall in love with.

The Next Day is a good latter-day Bowie record, worthy of at least a few listens, but since it's so evocative of his earlier, better work there's little reason not to put on Scary Monsters or Heroes instead.

Call It Love is an enticing work, but despite its many pleasing qualities, it doesn't quite stand out from the oversaturated electronic dream-pop scene.

Given that these recordings span different eras and sessions, High Hopes does have a cohesiveness, flow, and degrees of greatness, but unlike the career-spanning rarities comp Tracks, there's nothing about these lost or revisited songs that screams out "Jackpot!"

Images Du Futur feels like a great movie without an ending.

Seven Davis Jr's debut attempts to stay afloat on the strength of a few strong tracks, but ends up sounding stretched a little too thin.

It's noble to see Iron & Wine trying to take his songs into a different direction, but it's a shame that he lacks the confidence to allow these great songs to show off their personality without the help of inane studio glossiness.