You Will Eventually Be Forgotten boasts some solid craftsmanship, which is quite endearing, but also has some wretched singing, making the proceeding seem rather average at best.

Seven Dials is worth your money and prompts the hope that Roddy Frame will be more active in his mature years.

There is not really any filler on A Perfect Contradiction and it never manages to be boring (Paloma would never allow that). However, it does leave you wanting more and expecting more from Paloma’s next album.

The harder moments on Decimation Blues feels too forced in their oddness, too self-conscious for us to really follow.

As well intentioned as it is, with occasional mesmerizing production that flutters back and forth, everything leaves you feeling like there should have been more at the root of this project.

It harkens back to the clever minimalism of The Platform, while incorporating all they’ve learned since their early days as a group. And though it is an uneven affair, it’s a welcome breath of fresh air in the hip-hop world of 2014.

It’s a good record, just one unlikely to ignite the true love its predecessors did.

Confounding, yet worthy of recognition, Everybody Down is a sound release, with Tempest possessing potential to be truly great, once the logistics are shored up.

The second half of the album never regains the momentum, which the first half gained so effortlessly.

For a smooth talker like Common, talking through his ruminations could easily lead to talking around them, so on Nobody’s Smiling, he leaves a lot of the talking to others.

Apart from a few highlights, SZA’s latest work suffers from uninspired production, forgettable songwriting, and unfitting tacked on features.

McLagan has a pleasantly conversational voice. He’s a tasteful keyboard player. While he may not rock out, there’s a nice sashaying quality to the music.

It’s hard to imagine that Whoop Dee Doo will draw a fresh audience to the band, but fans of The Muffs should be pleasantly surprised at how solid this album is.

These few highlights could make the 39-minute listen justifiable, but you wouldn’t be missing much by skipping Animal Ambition completely. Although fun, none of these songs are up with the best of 50’s career.

The album is good that’s for sure; Sheeran is too talented to deliver a sub par album. It suffers in terms of consistency.

No Coast isn’t bad. It’s just--what was it, again?

Because Ab-Soul has pulled in every connection he has to feature on These Days (many of whom, including Jadakiss, Isaiah Rashad, BJ the Chicago Kid and Earl Sweatshirt, aren’t even credited because they’re doing background stuff), coupled with the fact that the beats are often too cluttered, feels like he’s just trying to throw everything at the wall in the hopes that something will stick so that Interscope will take notice and finally sign him.

The thing is, Kitten is neither original nor daring enough. This is just the same old, same old schtick that has already been mined to death.

Mandatory Fun is not his best album (even if it, by far, has his most well-conceived meticulous promotional launch), but it is still very fun, virtually every parody being completely on point and capable of holding up to at least a few replays.

Gilding the Lily at it’s core really is a good album, it just doesn’t have enough present to differentiate itself from the pack.

There are embarrassing missteps to be had here, and one wishes that, for this outing, the group just pruned their output back to an EP in length.

Savage approximates an extreme metal endgame, pushing the music into increasingly intricate, brutal, and downright boring forms.

Elly Jackson has evolved and improved over her debut. While their may be nothing quite as earworm-worthy as “Bulletproof” on this album, she makes a strong case for an artist to keep listening to looking into the future.

Ultimately, the album still feels more like a cul-de-sac.

Bottom line, this is harmlessly pleasant commercial-ready indie pop at its most vapid that will probably be heard quite a bit this summer.

His social and political views have long been front and center, but never have they been delivered as tritely or in as simplistically sloganeering a manner as they are here.

Overall, then, there’s more here that works than otherwise, and listeners drawn to inventive Americana-cum-rock ‘n’ roll will find much here to enjoy.

Still Life is a little too still and could use an injection of energy to really spice things up and make the consistency of this output even more memorable than it already is.

The album doesn’t valley so much as it plateaus, but it never quite falls into out and out repetition. Quinn and Donaldson are too good at their craft for that, and this bittersweet set of tunes is proof of not only the lasting nature of their sound but also its elasticity.

They found new ways to get to the drama and even paused along the way for some subtlety. You won’t find such traits on La Petite Mort. And although it resulted in a good James album, something tells me that they probably won’t be able to get away with this again.

There’s still enough stuff on this release to warrant a listen, even if it does seem a little all over the map stylistically.

All in all, very little on Stockholm stands out, despite the best attempts by all involved.

She’s just a comfortable [singer], and that’s a good thing for her. She doesn’t need to be, nor should she ever be elusive. This album proves that in spades.

Departure is an ambitious and brave debut, one that reveals a lot of promise and an awfully big sound for just two players.

All in all, The Hunting Party is a solid record on its own, but it feels too repetitive, uninspired, and generic to equal its immediate predecessors.

It’s a very solid record that features generally tight, compact performances of good material.

This feels like music for people who honestly and unironically look up to people like Paris Hilton or the Kardashians.

Hinterland’s whole existence seems to be balancing conflicting interests: to be abstract/direct, about feelings/ideas, of genre/not tied to any genre. You can hear that conflict in their sound. It is their sound.

From a critical standpoint, Lights Out is long on songs and contributing credits but falls short of measurable artistic growth.

It’s nice to have a relaxing album to fall asleep to, but What Is This Heart? is an album that will straight up put you to sleep.

After four albums, it seems like Miniature Tigers are heading towards the crowd and away from the niche they carved for themselves early on.

It’s just the Roots resting on the laurels. I think they may need another movement.

It’s an album often more complicated than it seems, and that it what makes it a solid debut, even if sometimes fruitful complication fumbles into confusion.

Anathema may not be at its most compelling on distant satellites, but what is less than optimal for these artists is still several notches above the rest.

The experiments can sometimes push too far to fit, as on “Imperial Beach”, while other moments (like “Blues in the Afternoon”) seem cut off too soon, but overall Ride the Black Wave is another solid, unexpected sound from the San Diego outfit.

Lovers of guitar-driven rock music looking for a smoother Two Cow Garage or more stripped down the Hold Steady would do well to visit Famous Graves.

Hornet’s Nest certainly contains some killer moments, but, sometimes the sting is not always obvious.

Newcombe, encouragingly, has turned his career around from the dead-end fans feared, and while this may sound more like home studio two years of tracks solo project it is than a band effort, it will satisfy those who have stuck with BJM over the past 20 years, and it seems, will for as long as Newcombe keeps making records, more modest than before, but thoughtfully crafted.

For every moment of eye-rolling overindulgence, there is an equally stunning instance of ingenuity, but the album is so stylistically all over the place, it rarely solidifies as a cohesive statement.

Often, maybe too often, the band’s zeal to call bullshit makes for metaphors and images that push too far.

There is a certain degree of sameness to the record that undermines the band’s strengths somewhat, but there are plenty of good moments too.

Mayhem are clearly trying to push the envelope of their metal, but their efforts are rendered vain by the lack of derring-do which has sealed the fate of other fellow second-wave black metallers.

In previous projects, Francis has demonstrated an ability to describe his world in vivid color. But when all you see is red, it’s hard to speak on anything else.

What we do get with Comet is a sparser version of songs that we’ve essentially heard on previous albums.

As with the lyrics, one of Meteorites’ main weaknesses is that it contains too many tunes that can be filed under humdrum.

There are occasional moments of inventiveness, but unfortunately, they are often marred by songs that often feel like they’re going to rend at the seams under the weight of too many ideas.

What you’re left with in Dereconstructed is an odd dichotomy. On the musical side, it’s your standard, albeit energizing, clamor. Lyrically, however, it’s admirable for the poignant and pointed glimpse it affords into an underrepresented southern point of view.

The things that’s most frustrating about Someday World, then, is not that some of the songs are great and some aren’t. Instead, it’s that there seems to be another, much better album lurking in here.

There’s an ambition to the sound of Fortuna that works, and it mirrors the confusion of the emotions nicely. It also signals an interesting shift for a band we’re just getting to know. But some of these songs try too hard to be the big, dramatic, hologram-on-the-wall Wizard when they sound just fine as the man behind the curtain.

Struggling with the purity of its chosen narrow genre against the potential commercial appeal it helped bring about, Tightrope fails to reach the heights of 2010’s Wildwood, delivered in a time before their progeny took hold.

There’s an arena showmanship mixed with barroom intimacy here, which serves the songs well, but the songs themselves feel anonymously classic, well-executed but so committed to tribute they don’t bring much new to the table, even in these fiery live renditions.

It’s a scuffed-up, messy ode to purity. It’s the kind of contradiction we might expect from artists like Neil Young and co-producer Jack White, though it still surprises.

Songs like “National Anthem” might push too hard at political ideas that are much subtler elsewhere on the record, but overall this is a solid and surprising set from a band that confronts us by pulling us into its wandering sound.

Ultimately, Everlasting is a sound and enjoyable effort from the established country artist.

Sound Mirror is the mark of a band in it for the long haul who will undoubtedly get better and better as time goes by.

For everyone else Retro Hash is a mixed bag.

Upside Down Mountain doesn’t take too many chances and, while I’m usually all for evolution, this is a good thing for Conor Oberst.

It stumbles on redundancy, but always falls gracefully, in perfect time with Edwards careening musical muses; it’s a sweet mess made out of heaven and hell, equal parts bitter and sweet, beautiful and stoned.

Many of these songs would benefit from a bit of contrast in terms of dynamics and tempos. And oh yeah, it would be great to understand a few lines of lyrics here and there.

Some listeners will find this to be powerful rainy-day music, the kind of stuff to get lost in while staring out the window at the rain. Most of us, though, will run out of patience long before the end.

The New Classic will never be a classic, but it isn’t anywhere as bad as anyone will expect it to be.

Ultimately, Days of Abandon is an album that feels like the Pains of Being Pure at Heart are trying to settle into a new sense of what it is as a band, whether that’s because Kip Berman is still continuing to find his voice as a songwriter or because his music sometimes sounds more like its influences than what it once was not so long ago.

In her hands, it sounds just fine, and if there aren’t as many catchy hooks to be found as on some of her previous offerings, the rewarding music to be found here is worth the listen for anyone willing to take the time to let the good feelings in.

Sadly, more than stomping around old ground was hoped for from this tinnitus-inducing power trio.

Geraldines is still rife with the inevitable “bad” Tori songs that seem to be a mainstay for Tori records lately.... The bright spot is that there are only four of these songs, one of which is still fairly salvageable, making the number of great tracks far outweigh the bad ones.

The album doesn’t have a lot of replay value, and the songwriting is hit-or-miss, but Aloe Blacc is able to tap into a market that isn’t seeing a lot of action right now.

The music here feels upfront and dynamic in its maturity, so even if this record full of young people trying to figure themselves out, as a band Modern Baseball has found a unified and dynamic voice. The question is, though, if you trust what that voice says.

So, while Indie Cindy is not an objectively bad album, it does fail to live up to the Pixies’ caliber, and a few noteworthy songs does not an exceptional record make.

Blood Red Shoes is an album firmly wedged in comfort, occasionally straying out into more interesting waters, but usually retreating to old tricks. For an album that tries so hard to be angry it’s just mild.

Symphonica certainly offers a heady, luxurious soirée, proving genuinely moving in parts, but it’s also quite exhausting and yes, occasionally bewildering.

The album’s structure collapses under its own weight thanks to questionable production and a plot that never becomes cohesive. Still, Monch’s bars are among the best in the game. Put his words over shoestring production and your jaw would still drop.

It offers no real new twists, but its best tracks recall the brittle, exquisite beauty of the latter’s “Teardrop”, still the pinnacle and defining moment of Davidge’s work.

Overall, Animal Heart plays as a gentle wisp of an album: a warm summer breeze in early spring; enjoyed in the moment, yet largely forgotten after having passed.

Cautionary Tales certainly doesn’t feel new--it ultimately feels like a retread of the orchestral and maudlin sound he tried on two records ago--but it feels true to its songwriter.

If you can overlook the fact that Cannibals With Cutlery is a tad on the long side, you may find a great deal to enjoy and be amused with. Even if that amusement comes solely in playing a game of “spot the influences”, which To Kill a King wear proudly on their collective sleeves.

Rise of an Empire is likely only a bit of a disappointment because it opens so strongly and refuses to become outright terrible.

It’s paint-by-numbers Harlem rap from the Jim Jones era, and frankly, in 2014 there’s just too much going on in hip hop for this to carry much sway, leaving Dream.Zone.Achieve a too-long-by-half 80-minute course in hard-nosed Harlem rap with plenty of good beats but without a distinct voice to guide it.

There’s a lot less variety and momentum. That would be fine if the band proved able to write 11 really good pop songs, but this record has maybe three.

Tristen’s tastes might not fit every palette (the ‘80s influence is heavy-handed), but there’s nothing wrong with letting her voice and some big synths wash over you in pure enjoyment.

It will never reach the dizzying heights of any previous albums, nor will it gain the critical appeal of his debut. However, Gravitas was, at the very least, one of the better albums released in 2013.

Swamped in feedback and riddled in static, with bad vibes emanating off each song, III: Beneath Trident’s Tomb is a draining listen overall.

There’s a tendency for Crowell’s music to be a tad too literal from time to time and a few tracks suffer from this perspective. The hits outweigh the misses, though.

It’s a well-crafted, well-performed piece of mediocrity, and that might be the most stinging disappointment of all.

Wasted Years feels less like an event than an album it still discernibly trumps the alternatives.

When it comes to the overall sound and demeanor of the album, which in some ways means it all syncs up in a generally satisfying way.

In the end, there isn’t much on Doom Abuse to surprise or expand the Faint’s audience. At the same time, it should appease those already devoted.

It’s Album Time is a great casual listen, but it’s obvious from its highlights that Terje is capable of even greater highs.

There are good songs here to be sure, but a measure of skepticism shouldn’t just arise from the band’s original fan base.