The uniformity of song structure, tone and tempo, though initially captivating, soon becomes monotonous.

Even though the production is immaculate, featuring amazing work by Lex Luger, and the guest list is impressive, the album falls flat. The problem: Ross takes himself too seriously.

A Church feels a little long, and getting through it requires a certain amount of emotional energy, but it's well worth the effort.

Many moments are reminiscent of big-room progressive tunes of the early 00s, which sound dated at times. Nevertheless, there are also plenty of undeniably pretty melodies, thick tones and pleasingly warm textures, not to mention impressive flashes of innovation and creativity.

They've succeeded at making a good big-dumb-rock record, but you get the sense they didn't mean for it to be quite this dumb.

The super-synthetic ethos of the album starts to rub against your skin; the band's retro dance-music collage feels less like innovative referencing and more like flat pastiche, and the simplistic little-girl lyrics add nothing.

All Day is a more complicated mix than Girl Talk's previous albums, with more to notice on repeat listens. And just like everything else he's done, it's an exhausting experience.

Unfortunately, the bass lines (all played by Mars Volta’s Juan Alderete) never quite capture the rubbery wobble of the era he’s trying to reference.

The lyrics are the album's strong suit, and for the first time ever Darnielle will be releasing them with the album, allowing for easy dissection.

Only their radical overhaul of Nine Inch Nails' Hand That Feeds shows any sign of creativity.

Too often, Jenkins's use of melody fails to create sticky songs in a pop sense, but it does offset his gruff baritone and stern messaging. ... Jenkins is at his best when taking everyday scenarios and cutting to their emotional core.

The tracks are long, grinding and relentlessly angry about the state of the world.

It’s softer, but it’s nice to see a band unafraid of mellowing.

Preoccupations don't fully hit their stride until album closer Fever, which sounds a bit like Heroes-era Bowie without coming across as derivative.

It’s full of the proggy rhythmic U-turns, complex structures and virtuoso playing for which the band’s known.

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

Kings of Leon often seem torn between their stadium rawk impulses and their hip underground aspirations.

Unfortunately, the rest is incidental disco-lite dross, with a couple of bland bumpers and a little East-meets-West fusion thrown in for good measure. The three M.I.A. tracks would’ve made a solid EP.

There are a few jangly throwbacks for nostalgia’s sake interspersed throughout Accelerate, but they’re overshadowed by blustery guitar blather that shouts “anachronism” at every turn.

Essentially, Evidence harkens back to 00s rap nostalgia without resorting to preachy tirades or regressive concepts, a respite during a time of sing-rap and hyper-aggressive flows.

It suffers from its uniformly dark tone and funereal tempos, and Ahearn’s attempts to sweeten things with an overly polished mix only makes a sad situation worse.

When they stop aiming for catchiness and instead get real about relationships, LYTD sparkles.

It sounds like fun was had in Dave Grohl's garage, but this good album could've been great had they spent more time songwriting prior to plugging in and cranking up.

Most of the songs, including the strong opening track, concern the duo's history as a couple and a band.

The results are indisputably unique, but the project often feels more like a collection of intriguing experiments than a proper album.

The more overtly rock moments give the album a bit too much of a 90s alternative feel, but that’s got to be expected from someone who came out of the slam poetry scene and previously worked with Trent Reznor.

A bunch of tunes seem built for radio (So What, Error), ballad Sorrow is overly dreary, and Skin Me borrows way too much from Nirvana. But the strength, emotion and new directions make this album a winner.

The result is dreamy to a fault, with song fragments submerged in extended instrumental intros and outros.