While half the fun is spotting the differences between the original and the remake, Where Have You Been All My Life? is also an excellent intro to Villagers, a summary of five years in one album.

The more conventional pop/rock tracks detract from his eccentric impulses and feel like compromises.

The album could've been distinctive but instead lacks depth or the transporting quality of her imaginative lyrics.

Tarantino's habit of including interludes of dialogue is especially distracting here, and it's hard to get around the discomfort of white actors casually throwing around the n-word. Morricone and Tarantino super-fans will enjoy it, but it's an uneven listen for the rest of us.

Most of its 10 songs last just two or three minutes. It's too good to be a mixtape and too short to be an album, raising the stakes even higher for the album proper.

It's early morning or late-night music, and more than capturing a specific place and aimless time, A New Place 2 Drown is a soundtrack for a slowed-down pace of life.

Amidst the crushing avant-metal, we also get nods to classic rock, elegant instrumental work, searing lyrics and atmospheric keyboards.

Although there's cosmic energy in the music's upward trajectory, it comes from a decidedly earthbound live-off-the-floor approach rather than meticulously sculpted production.

It's devoid of merriment and singalongs, and there's something refreshing--if not reassuring--about having a soundtrack for indulging your inner Scrooge.

Even with quick, dense and precisely rhythmic flows, his rapping is like verbal dancing. Its joyous and romantic moments make the album feel more like a thematic refinement than a musical one.

Daniel Lopatin's newest Oneohtrix Point Never album is one of the more unique, powerful recordings to come out this year. It's uncomfortable but distinctly compelling.

It's a holiday album that actually leaves you wanting more.

It's a mind-bogglingly superb testament to an artist at peak power.

A Folk Set Apart isn't where you'd go to contextualize McCombs, but it exhibits his dynamism.

The dynamics seem tired: boom leads to bliss and back to boom again. It's more of the same harsh, ambient wallpaper (peeling) stuff.

The murky production sucks out some of the dynamics, but a few extra-spirited tracks push above the rest.

Bub's knack for whimsical, 8-bit bleep-bloop electronic is apparent, and in addition to a few purrs or meows here and there, her magic shines in the arrangements.

It's experimental and improvisational but familiar. When she puts her psychedelic soul spin on the trappy drums of today (what she calls trap&B), it's the sound of an artist embracing change and all the new possibilities and complications that go with it.

It's consistently uplifting and bright, and its best moments feature powerful orchestral sweeps, a surprisingly adept disco hook and even some gospel. But the lyrics are often so cringe-worthy that A Head Full Of Dreams comes off like that one friend of yours who's so positive you want to punch him.

Yet for a singer/songwriter who has one of the most emotive voices on the charts and mesmerizes live, the album lacks a certain swagger, thanks to super-slick pop production.

There's an enigmatic quality to his rapid-fire narratives, which bounce between composed and freestyle. And yet Bleeds is also clearly one of his most dynamic, intimate and humble artistic efforts, revealing more with every listen.

A few tunes are forgettable (Baby Rocking Medley, Hobo's Lullaby), but for the most part the album is full of gorgeous harmonies and refreshingly sparse instrumentation.

The amoebic versions of Nirvana songs sound only unfinished and strange. If the goal was to render Cobain an artsy oddball more than a rock god with a Midas touch, then mission accomplished.

Product is Sophie's debut LP, collecting four previously released singles plus four new ones in a concise introduction to a producer who has quickly crafted a style and perspective all his own.

The songs are not so much about love as the memory of love and, accordingly, there's a chasm between her aggressive vocal runs and the cautiously generalist lyrics, especially on the maudlin latter half.

The acerbic kiss-off Love Yourself feels like an honest stab at subverting the standard breakup ballad, but elsewhere his lyrics are overly concerned with righteousness and keeping things PG-rated.

Whereas Xen had the odd, satisfyingly familiar beat pattern, Mutant is even more punk. It dives headlong into an emotional abyss and proceeds with a rhyme or reason that's up to listeners to determine.

Despite coming in at 19 tracks, the album lacks a searing song like Politically Correct, which Jeezy released free during his involvement in the recent Million Man March. He's come a long way, but we may have to wait until the next term to see his full political potential.