While a demonstrable knack for narrative composition gives the album much of its immersive power, Kuopio isnʼt a huge departure from the blueprint.

House Of Woo is one of the sparkier dance albums of the year so far, and a gem amidst all the buncombe.

Silver Cloud may be unfocused at times, but itʼs also a terrific feat of conflicting textures and moods, marrying crackly scuzziness and poetic timbres with ease.

News From Nowhere marks a far more dramatic turn for them than North did in 2010.

Overall, Homosapien doesn’t possess quite the same spirit as Church With No Magic but is certainly a surefooted step somewhere.

It’s as if they’ve recaptured innocence. It’s the only way to describe what you feel had to have happened in order for the band to preserve the very essence of what was the music of their youth, in such a way that goes beyond replication.

Produced by arena rock specialists Flood and Alan Moulder, Holy Fire sounds pop sound insofar as it’s smoothed off, big and accessible.

The Man Who Died In His Boat is, to put it simply, more of the same--and whether that’s a worthy thing for an album to be is largely down to your view on this period of Grouper’s output. For what it’s worth, it’s absolutely fine by me.

Bundick never quite detaches from the sound here, and if he languishes there any longer he’s liable to go down with the ship.

The Flower Lane is arguably not as essential, nor quite as oddly memorable as previous collected Ducktails instalments, but it does appear to be a new phase of the band.

The lion's share of this album is sprawling, confused, and almost grotesquely misshapen--a grand experiment with disappointing results.

Thomson's manifesto is articulate, incisive and practically book-length.

It's an interesting change of direction, and arguably a good one too.

While certainly not the most sincere album around, nevertheless there is ingrained in its tireless activity a genuine passion to fight the loneliness of intelligence, of neurotic shyness--to fight an inability to connect with people, that condition exacerbated in the era of social media.

Berberian Sound Studios is a wonderful, intense and darkly beautiful legacy to Keenan's unique character, and testament to the band's continuing ability as their world changes.

At its core, Long.Live.A$AP succeeds because it lets Rocky be Rocky: a rapper with a unique voice and an ear for captivating beats whose lyrical shortcomings can be glossed over with healthy servings of charisma and panache.

So safely, solidly familiar is Hawk's third album that it's enough to make you nostalgic for the sound as it splutters on its deathbed.

The Narcissist II is so compelling because it is conceptually so much more rigorous and consistent, so much richer with internal resonances than its duo-created cousins.

It's really working out for him.

Only when they tip the 'dumb' into an absurdism, in bouts of monotony or mindlessly devolved weirdness, do Metz sound anything like punk, or indeed art. Herein lies the retardation.

While a large portion of the LP sounds like a continuation of his earlier work this year, these tracks point optimistically towards something a little different once again, while still managing to fit under that increasingly hard-to-define Bambounou umbrella.

Nobody's denying Herndon's ambition and technical chops, but the goals of this album--however successfully they might be achieved--are often unappealing; the sonic outcomes, regrettably, a little dull.

There's stacks to enjoy, but, for the most part, Release bares its bones and hides its heart.

Alicia Keys is a singer-songwriter in the purest sense, and Girl On Fire is at its best when Keys (and her collaborators) remember that.

Her delivery--nasal, slightly nagging--inevitably begins to grate long before the album's running time is up. But there are points of interest that take Kreayshawn beyond empty attempts at swag.

Instrumental Tourist is unlikely to be viewed as anything more than an unimposing footnote between solo records.

Even at its most oppressive (in particular the songs from Thursday), every haunted note of Trilogy seems blissful.

Even when Unapologetic fails, it often does so in interesting ways.