Things Take Time, Take Time is an exceedingly nice-sounding record — but with almost no quotable zingers, it's hard not to shake the sense that something is missing, is missing.

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.

The influence of R&B is like a silky-smooth cloud over the proceedings, raining drops of liquid gold that permeate the music. Those looking for the energy of Da Trak Genius might be disappointed by the polish, but true footwork junkies will find shining moments worth drooling over

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

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

On her fourth album, inventive and demented singer/songwriter/guitar hero Marnie Stern whips up a potent batch of quirky, invigorating and, at times, beautiful new material.

At its worst, the effect is soporific, but if you're looking for a comforting, cushiony soundscape, Cala is good company. It's when Regan opts for crisper, more invigorated sounds, though, that the album really shines.

Over ten tracks and 40 minutes, Post Tropical never picks up any steam, never comes to life. Mere gorgeousness is, it turns out, not quite enough to sustain a record.

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

Wild Beasts have always been strong performers, but only when seemingly unaware; by tackling the trope of hubris-laden bro rockers, Boy King finds them becoming the butt of their own jokes, with little more than mindless dance tracks to show for it.

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.