As good as IN///PARALLEL is, Harrison leaves you curious to hear how much greater he can be when he really lets loose. [No. 147, p.55]

The trilogy's scarred, scary travelogue defines '70s Berlin as much as it does Bowie in uncompromising recovery mode. ... Brilliant. [No. 147, p.52]

Offering finds the band retooling its sound, and a few songs meander. But at its best--on the vibrant. assertive title track, on the buzzy, fizzy "Recovery," on the swaying, bittersweet "Good Religion"--it rivals Cults' revivalist previous offerings. [No. 147, p.51]

Ease My Mind has some sharper edges and fewer lush arrangements than the last Shout Out Louds album, 2013's equally excellent Optica, but the changes are slight. [No. 146, p.61]

The Gradual Progression manages to keep a curious balance between high-concept art and Fox's own fiercely independent spirit and virtuosic talent. [No. 146, p.55]

Repeated spins reveal an exotic, intoxicating soup. [No. 146, p.61]

Fear not, this is a kick-ass rock'n'roll record all the way around. [No. 146, p.61]

The band's linear approach might have you pining for an injection of dynamic flourishes, as the songwriting often consists of settling on a single tempo and rhythm and bouncing between two riffs for the duration. [No. 146, p.53]

They produce an extraordinary palette of tone, color and sound as they range through the worlds of rockabilly, early R&B, blues, folk and punk. [No. 146, p.61]

Vega rarely got the opportunity to be heard beyond the underground, so clarity--in passing--was essential. And all the more piercing for it. [No. 146, p.61]

The results are both vintage QOTSA and something unnameable at the same time. [No. 146, p.58]

Orc is a continuation of the careening energy and creativity that has defined the most recent handful of Oh Sees' record, making it one of the most beastly in the bunch. [No. 146, p.59]

It's less an emphatic, assertive statement than a patchwork scrapbook of disparate moods and tunes that, taken as a whole, feels not unpleasantly unfinished, somewhat hazy and dreamlike and understatedly charismatic. [No. 146, p.59]

None of the tracks approaches the frenetic monstrosity of the Public Enemy song they're named after. But "Strength In Numbers" and "Who Owns Who" are some of the most ripping music anyone involved had made in years, and they're not all repeating themselves. [No. 146, p.59]

One of the more important metal releases of 2017. [No. 146, p.59]

Call it the musical equivalent of Cormac McCarthy's similarly brutal The Road. [No. 146, p.59]

There are hard and soft edges all over Every Country's Sun, and both accounts have made us happy campers. Again. [No. 146, p.56]

Choir Of The Mind is more often introspective and engrossing. [No. 146, p.57]

Vol. 2's Springsteen-tinged "Don't Hurt," Tom Petty-flavored "Look How Clean I Am" and punk-soaked "It's A Whale" stomp and romp with unrepentant rage and joy. [No. 146, p.51]

Vol. 1's gorgeous "Sea Of Clouds," Dylanesque "Hope IS Big" and crystalline "Limp Right Back" quiver with quiet emotional power. [No. 146, p.51]

Its songs are energetic and uplifting, with frontman and main songwriter Amayo's half-sung/half-spoken lyrics balancing snide humor with insightful commentary into the roots of the political quandaries we confront on a daily basis. [No. 146, p.53]

The broadest, strangest and coolest sonic canvas that Deerhoof has ever framed. [No. 146, p.52]

An exuberant, ebullient revelation, awash in the cascading guitar work of Alec O'Hanley and Rankin's sunshiney, slapback-treated vocals, for a full power-pop effect that falls somewhere between vintage Tourists and recent Camera Obscura. [No. 146, p.53]

By the time MacLean gets around to a spoken-word revisit to an old haunt, "The Museum Of Fog," you're happily along for the surreal ride. [No. 146, p.55]

The duo is only revisiting what made Death From Above faves 13 years ago without realizing how poorly it has aged. [No. 146, p.55]

While there's plenty to like here, and more to admire, he's never made a record quite so challenging to love. [No. 146, p.54]

Minus interludes and meandering artsy filler, many of the 11 tracks take fine-grain sandpaper to noise rock's jagged edges. [No. 146, p.57]

You have to admire the survivalist nature at hand here and the ability to craft an album that doesn't smack of inorganic hashtag laziness like those of many contemporaries. [No. 145, p.59]