Nichols's gravelly vocals are more immediate and heartfelt than ever, especially on the dark, ruefuI I Woke Up In New Orleans, about self-destructive alcoholism. Lighter subject matter works less well (the pleasant ditty I'm In Love With A Girl, the lacklustre Throwback No. 2) but has enough southern soul to keep things interesting.

Powers's vocals, which still possess his signature nasal tone, are more upfront and unflinching this time. Yet for all this newfound confidence and prowess, that special emotional punch of a Youth Lagoon song is missing.

Pagans In Vegas may not be the strongest entry in the Metric canon, but the juxtaposition of Emily Haines's robot-girl vocals and pointed lyrics with dark yet hooky melodies remains a winning combination.

Scott goes for spacey sounds, stoner vibes and vocal filters, but despite the eclecticism, he's too elusive and bland for Rodeo to amount to a stylistic--let alone a subversive--statement.

He is not to be dismissed--as a rapper, that is. k-os the pop singer though? Not good.

As is Fidlar’s style, nearly all of the 14 songs are deceptively rollickin’, sounding more like a call to arms for bored suburban teenagers than the confessions of a 28-year-old man going through relapses.

The songs grow overly long at the end (the title track is a bit of a bore), though the album is consistently beautiful, if not always ear-catching.

It's often a little too wacky and silly for its own good, but overall Personal Computer is a fun collection of weirdo funk pop.

The album is plagued by similarly banal lyrics about sex and drugs that make his playboy image feel all the more superficial.... More positively, the poppier musical strategy perfectly suits his boyish vocals, and he sounds more open and less pretentious than ever before.

Once you’ve finished playing Name That Influence, it becomes just a nice mid-tempo indie pop record with catchy guitar hooks.

For all its unexpected sounds and catchy choruses, Emotion falters in its lyrical blandness.

The occasional “segues” throughout the record recall Fantastic Planet and although they help give it some variety and atmosphere, they also feel like too much of a throwback rather than helping The Heart Is A Monster stands on its own.

It’s the band’s plainest meta-record yet: a recording that calls deliberate attention to its own materiality as a recording.

The vocals, which in the past did a lot with a little and felt incantatory, androgynous and liminal, now sound uncannily like Linkin Park’s Chester Bennington, a pseudo-teenaged smirk behind the frown.

It’s a challenging album, one you might not put on often.

Georgia evokes a skittering, glazed-over slice of up-all-night club life on her moody, uneven debut.

The more conventionally New Age tracks that dominate the first half are the weakest. Things start to get interesting on Tethered In Dark, when the acoustic guitar arpeggios and synths lock together into hypnotic loops.

A sense of mood or inner life is glimpsed. But by that point [the final third of the album], it just seems like an echo of past glories.

Dark Bird Is Home sounds carefully constructed, and Matsson keeps things simple rather than making easy moves toward a grandeur that could bury his songcraft.

Blood struggles to shift out of platitude territory with lyrics fixated on horizons, stars and sunsets, and it soon becomes apparent that La Havas is content not to go much deeper than vague universalism requires.

Songs are summery and bright, a more apt soundtrack to a road trip across Prince Edward County than to a night at an underground club.

What it lacks is an interesting emotional--and thus truly cinematic--dimension.

The 15 songs are relatively short by ambient standards, which makes the album feel like a collection of sketches.

Diversifying is a good plan, seeing as this kind of thrashy, mid-fi guitar pop can all melt together. Thankfully, the sugary keyboards and furious, to-the-point guitar solos (and guitarmonies!) cause most of the songs to shred in their own special way.

Whether Hill's singing or rapping, the fearlessness and tempestuous drama in her voice are palpable--and matched by equally raw accompaniment that makes many of the other cuts sound a little too clean by comparison.

The transitions throughout that first track aren't as seamless as you'd expect from Hebden, but they're also what keeps the music from slipping into the background.

Too bad the most inspired songs are all stacked together on the first half; the record loses steam halfway through.

Their fourth, Last Of Our Kind, includes some formulaic hard rock, Cheap Trick and Starship apery and flat-out misses. But it has its moments, to be sure.