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

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.

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.

A good portion of Total Folklore finds Friel treading the same murky path, leaving the listener with brazen, barefaced ideas and shambling, barefoot execution.

With a lazy pace and slightly detached vocals from Standish, these eight tracks seem to sway like strips of bleached cloth hanging in a light breeze.

While The Home Inside My Head is by no means the band's magnum opus or a step forward for pop punk as a whole, it's definitely a worthwhile listen for fans of the band and genre.

If you're a diehard fan, you could give Surviving a chance, but if you're only a fan of their pop punk and emo efforts, it's best to skip this one.

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.

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

As an album wanders, more opportunities arise for a wrong turn. Omnion veers to a fault.

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.

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

There are some truly enjoyable moments on Calexico's latest--but they're vastly overshadowed by at turns annoying or just boring tracks, bogged down in an overly long record.

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.

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

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.

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

Taken as a bit of a lark, Skye's I<3UQTINVU exists as a bag of mostly disposable — but exciting! — what ifs. Without the grounded warmth of Ellery's songwriting, the album has the perhaps unintended effect of sending us back to the originals to appreciate the duo's more controlled creative alchemy.

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.

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

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.

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

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.

On their self-titled debut, E focus on each member's strength, leaving listeners with an album that's at times more combative than it is collaborative.

It's hard to shake off singer Davey Havok's sterile lyrics, especially when many of the choruses lean heavily on his bold, operatic delivery yet are somewhat squandered on half-cocked one-liners.

Weighing of the Heart plays out as the soundtrack to a forgotten '90s B movie; novel, but not great.

Her move away from pop music on The Lonely, The Lonesome & The Gone signals a deeper understanding of the country, blues and soul genres, but there aren't enough ideas here to make it succeed.

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.

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

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.

The mixed bag nature of Don't Be Scared that is its downfall: a lack of consistency leads to the album sounding more like a DJ set than a cohesive record.

The inevitable has caught up with O'Brien, who finds himself struggling to stay afloat on The Art of Pretending to Swim. The self-produced record dives into murky waters in an ambitious attempt to incorporate an electronic flair to an already complete set of folk tunes.

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.

Bringing in a slew of analog instruments, mostly to give each track its own disposition, Lissvik pulls together swinging piano, shuffling guitar, drums and loads of modular synth lines, and though he does a great job of keeping the album instrumentally diverse, he falls into the same textural and spatial avenues throughout much of the album.

On the whole, the album suffers from a bout of dullness, with the majority of tracks mingling in a grey area, struggling to push through their apparent amalgamation and stand on their own.

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.

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 thing with As You Please is that while it feels uneventful, it also seems like Citizen might be just on the edge of a breakthrough.

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

Ultimately, Daniel is perfectly pleasant.

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.

The songs, although well assembled, lack the edge that the band is known for, which could be hazardous.

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.

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.

Firepower is exactly what you would expect of Priest almost 50 years into their career. It's well-produced, expertly executed and understandably quotidian.

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.

It's an interesting concept for an album, but it falls a bit flat.

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.

"I'll Fight for Your Life" makes up for its unremarkable melodies with a percussive synth pulse, while the charming "Head of the Horse" is a curveball ballad from a project that has always been better known for upbeat pop tunes. Beyond that, however, this album is a 50-minute slog.

Unlike their past efforts, though, Silver/Lead is sluggish when it needs to be spry and dull when it ought to be meditative.

Though the album lacks a unifying aesthetic, and a couple of pieces have a slight "interlude" quality, the strongest elements highlight Lipstate's unwillingness to place definitions or limitations on her music.

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

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.

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

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

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.

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.

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.

On Last Place, the band returns to the same well again, and while there is enough here to sustain some nostalgia, that well seems drier than ever before.

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

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.

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

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.

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.

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.

The band manages not to compromise their sound, but on The Black Market, the formula is growing stale.

Like the colourless photo of a near-anonymous Swift that adorns the album cover, it casts an artful pose but doesn't have the guts to look the listener in the eye.

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

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

The production is top-notch, but Ghost rarely shifts into uncharted lyrical territory, holding back Sour Soul's otherwise consistent production.

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.

Pollard races through each song with all the gusto of the late '90s. His enthusiasm, though charming as ever, falls just shy of justifying what often feels like a collection of chaotic, unfinished demos.

With the exception of Lil Durk's two verses, Thugga's extensive assortment of guests here falls flat, causing the second half of the tape to drag.

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.

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

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.

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

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 biggest strength of Up On High may be its greatest weakness: it's a record that is exactly what it is trying to be, a folk rock album that feels so much like a folk rock album that you forget about it as soon as it ends. Vetiver's latest is an album that you can put on and not think too much about.

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.

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.

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.

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

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.

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

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.

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

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.

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 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.

Diehard fans of the Brazilian band who rekindled their interest in the band with the return of Roots producer Ross Robinson will find Machine Messiah lacklustre, possibly even forgettable, when held up to Sepultura's better past work.

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.

It's a traveller's record, but not one for the wide-eyed, "wanderlusting" tourist; rather, it's one for the detached and disoriented, Bill-Murray-in-Lost-in-Translation voyager. It hits this note strikingly, but it's a shame about the sonic mishmash.

Much of Principe's second half finds him repackaging the first half with plodding disco beats that make the initially exciting melodies seem boring the second (and third, and fourth) time around.

The first record without co-founder and lead guitarist Matt Mondanile, who left last year to focus on his Ducktails project, it finds the band struggling to find their footing in his absence.

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.

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.

While Swirlings creates an easy listening ambience with textures that assist in ethereal out-of-body mediations, there is little in the way of innovation, though the final track provides a contrasting tone from the relaxation pieces.