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

Analog Fluids of Sonic Black Holes does not always work, but in the moments where it does, it is bound to sit in your stomach for a long time.

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 is also a vibrato-drenched version of "Moon River" that seems more of an afterthought than a statement, but even that hangs in the air quite well. There is some pretty astonishing virtuosity as well as clear thought, and that's what sets this record and Orcutt apart from the excesses of technique. The man makes music as well as notes.

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

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.

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.

You can't help but wish he'd leaned into the dive bar clatter and freewheeling wildness that always feels just at the periphery of his music. As it is, And the Wind acts as a solid addition to your deep-summer-backyard-beer-drinking soundtrack — sometimes that's all you need.

What Whitfield lacks in originality he makes up for with a tireless push to the end zone.

Heaven Is for Quitters follows no pattern except that of disconnect, so while many of the tracks work as they are, it's far from a cohesive album.

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.

With so many of its songs employing fade-outs, Siberia also has this palpably unplanned feeling, which doesn't always pay off.

The genre is wide, but Stapleton's Room is so narrow and old-fashioned that, despite its quality songwriting, it feels stifling at times.

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.

MOPN would have landed much better if it abandoned the balancing act between the past and the present in exchange for wholehearted embrace of Lopatin's current realities. Lopatin has proven to us that he can deliver hits; it's time that he believes it himself.

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.

While this release really doesn't break any boundaries, it's beautiful and doesn't demand much more than good feelings. In these times, that's no small thing.

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

This album feels like they need to take another walk in the trees to reconnect with their namesake.

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.

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.

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.

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

Ultimately, beatmaker Tommy "TBHits" Brown outshines the veterans, co-producing two of the record's more engaging tracks--"Better Off" and "Goodnight n Go"--which are inexplicably relegated to the end of the record. Those songs manage to accomplish what the rest of the album attempts: bringing a new fire to pop-R&B's familiar formulas.

The lack of development and subtlety is a frequent problem for the album.

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.

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.

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.