There's something lacking in this collection of tracks: a counterpoint to the darkened atmosphere to prevent Remember Your Black Day from coming across as just another example of weak-willed EBM.

Aphex Twin has made a good move here by giving a similar feel throughout the EP, but instead of having a few so-so tracks alienated by a standout one, the entire release ends up being fine but unremarkable, especially when pitted against the behemoths of his back catalogue.

Is it less than the sum of its parts? Perhaps. However, it is an ambitious and interesting album that not only plugs the gap nicely between Tim Hecker and Oneohtrix Point Never albums but signals interesting things to come from Lopatin's SSTUDIOS series.

It works because of its twitchy pop sensibilities, which gaze longingly back at the '80s, and while that isn't a bad thing, it's still a hard record to get attached to.

The accomplishment is that the sound is unique and understated. The unpredictable becomes predictable quickly, though.

Sensorimotor as a whole isn't as strong as Lusine's previous efforts for Ghostly International.

The Way Things Fall remains a sometimes flawed, sometimes inspired, inadvertent return to form.

Too often, the album is weighed down by pedantic, average beats and too many run of the mill guest verses, indicating Meth's generosity is a bit of a weakness. Ultimately, it dilutes The Meth Lab's potency.

They avoid mere imitation, but a sense of aimlessness still floats through the record.

There's a thin line between owning up to the voracious hunger needed to reach a new level of fulfillment and being trapped by the desperation to regain a title that is no longer his. Ludaversal finds itself somewhere in between.

Steve Earle doesn't make the same kind of hi-test outlaw country he used to, but The Low Highway shows that his swagger hasn't completely disappeared.

It makes for a record with some distinct highs and lows; when it works, it is a lovely shimmering thing that amply demonstrates just how precious Flying Saucer Attack were and still are.

As a standalone release, devoid of the visual context it's designed to pair with, Rat Film doesn't always find lasting purchase, but it does in parts. ... Still, Rat Film shows off increasing nuance and range in Deacon's abilities as a composer.

Maybe it's the tedium of a career spanning nearly two decades, or a shred of complacency settling in after winning the highly coveted Mercury Prize in 2016, but Skepta seems subdued on Ignorance. A decent album, but not his best.

For now, it's likeable despite feeling a little too aimless.

Goldenheart functions as a hypnotic aural distraction, but little more.

While PND's production is typically on point, his songwriting and vocal skills are still evolving.

Although ultimately underwhelming, Moon Duo still create an enjoyable easy-listening psychedelic atmosphere in Stars Are the Light. It might not be the kind of album you can become deeply attached to, but would never fail to please as background music.

One hopes that once this space opera is complete Haley will allow himself to broaden his horizons a bit more. In the meantime, Silicon Tare is worth a listen.

As much as these songs hit upon Mudhoney's winning elements, there's a lack of swing in the band's step.

It's a logical continuation of 2007's slick Cassadaga (less so 2011's rock-inclined The People's Key) — but given the renaissance Oberst has enjoyed with his side-projects in recent years, it doesn't quite live up to Bright Eyes' lofty name.

Skullcrusher's debut points to Helen Ballentine's undeniable skills, particularly as a melodist. A bit more distancing from popular templates, however, may have served to further distinguish her work from that of her abovementioned contemporaries.

In shearing off that thorniness, Drop Nineteens have returned as a highly competent, often lovely, and perhaps less interesting version of themselves.

Among the paint-by-numbers tracks, Born In The Echoes has still got a couple of artful numbers peppered throughout.

Though his skill is absolutely unmatched, homophobic references and overly misogynistic bars in 2018 do feel excessively out of touch. It's not his best or his worst--but, it's definitely what fans deserved eight months ago.

What Trouble lacks in focus, it largely makes up for with ambition and dexterity.

Oyamada's work as Cornelius over the past 20 years has defied genre, logic and time; on Mellow Waves, it sounds like he's on cruise control.

Monsters Exist stands as one of Orbital's most frustrating albums--the ideas are present, but the execution simply isn't.

Technically flawless, but focused to a fault, Albert Einstein is further proof that Alchemist could benefit from a mistake.

This is a forward-looking release by a group still searching for reverence.

So There, Ben Fold's collaborative LP with yMusic (a classical sextet from New York) is poppy, ambitious and bold. Yet despite clocking in at nearly an hour--including a 20-minute-long concerto for piano and orchestra with the Nashville Symphony--the new record feels scarce on songs.

Foam Island is a patchwork album that never ends up feeling quite settled.

There's a lot to like about Songs My Friends Wrote, especially the way it celebrates lesser-known tunes — but unfortunately, not a lot of the charm and wit that Corb Lund fans have come to love.

Caveman have followed-up CoCo Beware with a solid effort that retains some of the looseness of their debut. However, with the added label pressure, that looseness sometimes feels forced.

Much of Fixion, while enjoyable, finds Trentemøller stuck on the same weary note, reaching for what's comfortable and familiar rather than pushing his craft forward.

Some may chide Farrar for playing it safe on Honky Tonk, but in nearly every respect this album sounds as if Farrar has finally arrived at an artistic place he's always longed to find.

There's enough here to suggest a breakthrough is coming, but Axxa/Abraxas isn't it.

You can tell he genuinely attempted to deliver a well-rounded record. However, there's not enough innovation to interest casual fans in the project.

While the sonic textures remain in their typical buzzed out territory, the tracks where tempos ramp to harrowing speeds don't entirely work.

Goodman and Bevan's take does an adequate job of representing the variety that has spanned over the Fabriclive mix series, but unfortunately manifests as being somewhat unkempt.

Despite how thunderous Thatcher sounds behind the drums or how dirty Kerr's bass tone is, unfortunately there isn't a pedal for more robust and compelling songwriting.

While Howl falls squarely into a no man's land between soul and pop, Brooks's smooth style ultimately proves refreshing.

Lyrically, Newman continues to play games that amuse him, but the logical and narrative backflips might be too much this time.

Although it may be impossible not to compare it to its most immediate predecessor, Weed Garden becomes, as a result, a quaint coda for those fans wanting a little bit more of Iron & Wine's signature sound.

While working on the album, the band reportedly tried to blur the lines--primarily through scattershot vocals--to make it hard to discern who wrote what. In the process, they've lost the collaborative, intersectional sound that's always provided a sense of humanity heart at the centre of Animal Collective.

The tracks are well-produced, but lack the soul to make a deep enough impact.

Thank Your Lucky Stars is definitely a treat--we shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth, as another new Beach House album is always welcome--but arriving so soon after Depression Cherry, it is bound to get lost in the shadow of its predecessor because frankly, it isn't nearly as compelling.

Both Lights fails to hold together because of its numerous failed lines of attack, which undermine the goodness.

Production-wise, the record includes what are easily some of the least memorable instrumentals that the trio has ever worked with in comparison to their catalogue of freeleases, though the continued emphasis on minimalism gives the rhymes room to breathe.

Calico Review may leave the listener feeling a little parched, too, as it doesn't paint as bright and stirring a picture as either of its predecessors.

There's a hidden level of responsibility in his words, with Mill striking a balance between the glorification and the lamentation of his actions.

As a standalone collection of songs, the Aladdin LP doesn't reach the heights of his recent recorded output, but it's an interesting companion piece that will please the Green faithful and fans of the film

Alex Winston is capable of writing some excellent indie-pop gems, she just hasn't figured out to do it with consistency.

The second half of the album has less attitude, exposing the softer side of the band that has come across in the lyrics since its beginning.

The crystalline vocals and dazzling harmonies that TEEN have become known for are replete throughout, and ultimately there are more great than good songs, with the best coming in the latter half of the record.

While not a particularly daring record, old school Fratellis fans will unquestionably be satisfied with their most consistent release in well over a decade.

That's Why God Made the Radio is the dad-rock album of the year.

The New Abnormal is not a bad record, but it is a frustrating one, made by a band that feels pulled in a dozen different directions.

Though the band have toed the line between boyish charm and adolescent callousness for most of their career, this ambivalence has not aged well, and often obscures the more successful moments of sincerity on the record.

The result is a listening experience that demonstrates a capacity for intimacy, but more often acts as an intermission or interruption to an otherwise steady pace.

The Sun's Tirade is pleasant, but it's not timeless.

The result is a better-than-most modern pop record filtered through an indie aesthetic that nevertheless lacks the forward-thinking drive of the best of either genres.

Using the album as a full-length thesis on the blending of Berlin and Manchester sounds causes Living With Ghosts to feel rather analogous and tedious, at times.

The result is flat and congealed, lacking danger.

If they dropped the ambitious approach of 15 tracks and stuck with the most notable eight or nine, Let's Go Sunshine might have been a bit more consistent and interesting.

It's an album that has a nice enough groove throughout, and again, the quality of the production really cannot be overstated.

The production is competent, yet very derivative for 2014, appearing stuck between ornately symphonic leftfield pop and Timberlake-brand R&B.

There is not enough energy here for one to latch onto and so the EP passes uneventfully.

Spring certainly isn't the worst Weezer album (don't worry, Pacific Daydream, that title still belongs to you!), but it's frustrating to hear them sabotaging their own songs in a futile attempt to pin down the sound of a season. So far, SZNZ feels less like a lofty concept and more like silly gimmick.

Sleigh Bells should be applauded for their attempts to move beyond their simplistic formula, but the growing pains are evident and awkward to listen to.

More Is Than Isn't showcases an artist refusing to learn from prior mistakes and not yet ready to capitalize on his past achievements.

Sonic Highways is an attempt to channel a different musical energy, but it's one that Grohl does a far better job capturing with his camera crew.

Pure, Beyond Reproach feels lost and directionless at times.

The album starts off relatively strong, with hard-hitting choruses in "Narrow Mouth" and upbeat, catchy verse lines in "Magnolia," but lose momentum quickly thereafter.

A frustrating album that manages to both thrill and disappoint in equal measure, which suggests that with some trimming, this could have been an incredible EP.

Levi hasn't exactly grown with each and every album, and his wheel spinning has gotten the better of him again, because, apart from a couple of catchy tunes, Medicine isn't very exciting.

Everyday Life has more blunders than hits, but let's give Coldplay some credit — they've got a "go big or go home" attitude that's entertaining, even when it misses the mark.

Bad Love has just too many things going on.

Interpol are far past the point of trying to recapture their glory days, but even their attempts to change things up come off as a mixed bag. Prospective fans and diehards alike are better off starting at the beginning.

Mungodelics remains an uneven effort in design alone, promptly adding another layer of mystery to this hard-to-pin-down duo.

There are great moments that fulfil expectations of Jesu as a dissolving whirlpool bath of glass shards, but these flashes don't carry the full weight of the album.

In a Dim Light turns out to be a frustrating listen; it's an adventurous outing by a band that plainly need to sharpen their craft.

For much of Meteorites, strings attempt to fill in the hole that was the band's characteristically dynamic, propulsive low-end, to mixed results.

Unfortunately, Keith is treated to some friendly fire here, as most of his cohorts outshine him.

Zomby changes style a frustrating amount, and all of it crawls along at a painstaking speed. He's gone for something different here, which is commendable, but the end product, sadly, comes off more pretentious than deep.

Molina once seemed poised to become a reliable purveyor of sticky throwback pop. But absent the visceral thrill of his early work, or anything new or profound to say about grief and heartache, Kill the Lights offers little more than the sum of its influences.

Galore, is a soulless collection that feels more like a grasp at brand synergies than an attempt to make meaningful music.

As Morrissey's ability to deploy his wit and worldliness fades, it's nice to hear him wax romantic, but for the first time on record, he seems more obsessed with others than himself. Sadly, it doesn't suit him well.

There's very little on offer to ground the listener here, which makes Maze of Woods a challenging collection; it's the aural equivalent of a 90-minute movie that feels like a 3-hour watch.

The interludes and instrumentals only serve to interrupt the flow of the record, and it becomes clear the album is a bit of a mixed bag.

With its jarring synthetic brass--which is neither as charming or amusingly ironic as its creators seem to think it is--Someday World starts off on the wrong foot from the very first bars.

Look Park's weakest points are the frills that seem to dominate more than half of the album.

Overall, the album doesn't have a lot of replay value besides a few stand-out songs like the Drake-featuring "Oh U Went" and "Went Thru It," which is led mainly by the strength of Metro Boomin's production.

Too often the band fall prey to the conventions of the music from which they're borrowing.

Green's harder edge and presence as a musician can be heard lyrically, although her soft vocals fall flat, shrouded by a sea of synthesized blips and bleeps from the ubiquitous drum sounds.

I Sell the Circus is an uneven collection from an artist clearly torn between the future and his past.

As a standalone product, Vroom Vroom only offers a scattershot glimpse at what these two might be able to accomplish.

As it stands, the album is a half-baked effort that resembles a collection of demos rather than a high-stakes sophomore album.