White Hills may not be blazing any new musical pathways, but there is no denying that they're good at what they do.

Late Love is the sound of a band who knows how to rock, but just not in the right way.

Because the formula is so well-tested, Empire Central is at its most satisfying when avoiding Snarky Puppy’s full-group sound.

He and Danger Mouse clearly are creatively simpatico, but hopefully their next joint venture will be more satisfying than Rome, whether it's an album of songs or a soundtrack for a real movie.

A fine enough retail debut, but when you can get the stronger, more unique product for free that's a strange thing to strongly recommend anyone.

Without its context, Beauty Party doesn't make any sense.

On the one hand, Sorry I Make You Lush is as accomplished an album as you are likely to hear this year. But it skates a very fine line between irreverence and irrelevance, and emerges only partially successful.

Roommate has always been prone to overbearing imagery and aimless compositions. Guilty Rainbow falls prey to some of the same temptations, but on the whole, the new release finds Lambert cultivating his strengths-a no-frills delivery and fluid, organic verses that roll into one another with an easy inevitability.

While it is understandable that Telefon Tel Aviv wanted to explore the styles conducive to being on one of the premier dance labels in Berlin’s robust music scene, it just does not feel right for some reason, especially in comparison to the fractured brilliance of their first two studio endeavors.

As debuts go this is in its way a throwback to a bygone era when bands offered up flawed but fertile inaugural efforts of the kind that made "promising" a buzz word before there were buzz words.

These Stars is a promising debut and one that rewards repeated listens. There is warmth in this coolness.

If only the rest of the album were as good as the lead single.

Angry and disturbing lyrics of this caliber would signify liberation for any other female artist. But it’s never been more evident than it is on Gag Order that Kesha is not a free woman. This makes it all the more difficult to enjoy Gag Order for what it is when there’s a blaring undercurrent that’s hard to ignore.

Nothing is forced about Thomas's blend of folky Americana and electronic psychedelia. However, the album becomes a chore as Thomas's nihilistic tendencies overshadow the confusingly hopeful tone he was attempting on The Other.

Fingers, Bank Pads and Shoe Prints can get predictable at times, RP Boo’s comfort zone of vocal sample, rattling percussion and synth interludes becomes obvious by about four tracks in.

Even the most hardened of cynics have to marvel at 20/20‘s sheer musical audacity, but at the end of the day, the individual songs fail to hold up to close scrutiny.

It’s some of the parts, the ones that seek to rise above that whole though parlour tricks or overwrought strangeness, that feel too long, even as the running time of the record as a whole, seems to glide by.

It aims huge and comes up huge on occasion. Even if the result is a mixed bag, it’s rewarding to hear West expand his range and infuse his unique brand of techno with more droning and expansive qualities.

Peripheral issues aside, if you temper your expectations and just concentrate on the music coming out of your speakers, you're going to enjoy this edition of the Megamixxx series. It's not Donuts, and it's certainly not Fantastic Damage, but it's a fine piece of work from a producer whose demand far exceeds his supply.

Ultimately, however, Me and Armini is basically just an above-average batch of pop music that, while generally not on par with her last album, does occasionally match it’s high standards in warmth and candor.

As a whole, if more of this album tinkered with their inspirations, it would have made A Sentimental Education more memorable.

It's a seldom-heard rendition of the familiar.

If you can get by the instruments of choice and shed your pop-cultural and historical references long enough to forgive the undeniably cheesy synth lines you may just find yourself appreciating this record for what I believe it was intended to be-upbeat, easy-listening dance music.

As it is, City and Colour achieve only part of the goal here, that is, to make an album that represents the totality of Green’s one man, overarched vision. That he succeeds even partially is a credit to his willingness to at least try.

On Seeker, we get a solid album from a talented musician, but it feels more like the groundwork for a classic. Hopefully, that one's imminent (and arson-proof).

Willie brings everything he’s got to bear, acquiting himself admirably in an otherwise miscalculated effort.

If you like your mood music weird and wandering, you'll find much to savor in this disorienting package. Old Punch Card is a noble experiment, possibly one unworthy of a full-length album release, but a noble one nonetheless.

While Tongue ‘N Cheek is easily more instantly gratifying than Rascal’s previous albums, it lacks the unique perspective and replay value of his more nuanced work.

Ledisi uses cliched song ideas as tropes and canned rhythms as instrumental arrangements while she sings about the importance of being true to oneself as a special person. Despite the seeming paradox, it works.

Though they each have moments of promise or excitement, they falter just short of memorable.

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.

Despite the gorgeous piano playing and the adept songwriting, Choir of the Mind is an overall bummer.

he best tracks on the album will bear repeated listening. But the collective experience makes you wonder if Almond could have delivered more if he had cast aside all inhibitions and let fly--maybe a second collection could achieve that.

Some of the songs would fit well in the soundtrack of a film adaptation of an Irvine Welsh novel. Other songs would fit better in the soundtrack of a coming-of-age film. Still, for all its complexity, there’s no song you find yourself singing after you’ve listened to the album a couple of times.

Personality plays like a compendium of Rose's artistic influences retranslated in his own style. Yet the variety appears to come at the expense of real depth in these productions.

None of this stuff is particularly groundbreaking, but it does what it does quite well.

What it all boils down to is that it can be hard to tell if Dengue Fever is more successful at being novel or being a novelty act. Cannibal Courtship doesn't really resolve those questions about Dengue Fever, but answering them isn't such a big deal when the band sounds like it's having as good a time as it is here.

In addition to the foray into pop-punk, the album elicits elements from several genres without settling on a single soundscape.

It's a worthy addition to the oeuvre of Ghanaian Afro-pop, as well as a lively and entertaining album in its own right.

All the various problems with it aside, In the Marrow is a record with more promise than disappointment, and for those who like their rock rootsy and doomy, this is one to spin.

Jay Lane clearly understands how to complement Claypool's busy bass lines and LaLonde's unconventional guitar playing, and his drumming fits in really, really well with the group.

Repeated listens of Capture/Release uncover some songs to pique your interest, but the brevity and sameness of the songs weigh the album down.

Aside from Taylor's earlier albums, Contraband would stand as a unique work, but it's not up to the standards set by reasonably similar records.

Unfortunately with the addition of the Notwist’s awkward electronic sections Close to the Glass becomes frustratingly uneven.

Ultimately, it is difficult to see this heavy and difficult album as anything but a significant misstep and a genuine disappointment.

Courting the Squall is a solid first solo outing for this music veteran, one that reveals an important truth: no matter how much experience you have making music, if you take the risk on something new, you’re going to find that there’s plenty still to learn, and even more to improve on.

The Glow has some pretty good songs trying to peek out of the morass.

This is a Junip record, but it's hard not to see Fields as another solid entry in Jose Gonzalez's discography, and a fitting next step in a lot of ways.

In the end, By the Hedge is the work of a band trying to discover itself: Maybe Minks aren't quite sure who they are or where they're going yet, but at least their solid first effort suggests there's more than enough reason to keep following them to find out what'll happen with them.

She brings hints of techno, R&B, disco, hard rock, hip-hop, and pop-punk to this album, but rather than feeling like a masterpiece, it just feels undercooked.

Ultimately, Mice Parade oscillate between making loose, open-ended techno-twinged acoustic music that's truly intriguing and flailing around in a sleepy, directionless mess of dullery.

Mueller has traded in his visceral post-punk riffs for something more cerebral, and ultimately less satisfying.

For all the progress the record represents, Punch is a schizophrenic release.

Aside from the wonderment that might be induced if you saw this setup create the music live in concert, perhaps it’s best just to say that this is one of the good but not great Pat Metheny records, which ain’t bad at all.

There are several excellent passages on Betty Wright: The Movie. But she shouldn't feel the need to rebuild herself completely separate from her old persona.

Christian aTunde Adjuah unfortunately feels like it plays the same hand a few too many times; for all its talk of musical gambles and progressive thinking, the album surprises most by ultimately playing things a little too close to the vest.

Freak Out!, for all its fun, is the sound of a serious rock band that could stand to take itself just a tad more seriously.

Without a doubt, younger fans that discover this will swear by this formidable freshman effort. It may prove to be a tougher sell for older, more discerning critics who know all too well the way that these ugly phrasings of time and sound are supposed to feel on the receiving end of the punishment.

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.

The Courtneys have grown up, but in the tradition of many sophomore releases, it is not enough.

Hundred Waters’ talent is apparent throughout the new record, but Communicating lacks the thematic and sonic cohesion that its predecessor embodied so fully.

The title track does a better job of establishing focus; it is easy country blues supporting Parr’s meditations.

A band that is only one-third New York Dolls--no matter how good their intentions--still sounds like it.

He’s still staking out the same corner on his latest album, Idle No More.

The rest of Junip never quite matches its first track.

Exitmusic spends this record convincing you it can make a big noise, and of that there is no doubt. At times, that big noise is quite impressive, and the nuanced layers that make it up do indeed evoke emotions, take you somewhere. Unfortunately, too much of Passage opens up doors-big, gaping ones-that don't ever lead anywhere.

Modest, low-key, and unassuming, Old Yellow Moon is finally too conventional a record to rank as a major addition to either Harris or Crowell’s discographies.

Far too often on Mo’ Mega he seems unsure of quite where he’s heading and, altogether, the LP fails to reach any sort of feeling of transcendence.

All in all, Feel It Break as a whole is a little uneven because Austra still seems to be looking to strike the right balance between its different parts.

My Soft Machine unfolds respectably, proficiently, even likable, yet not particularly memorably.

By no means essential, Smokey prove themselves an interesting footnote in the annals of pop music, one full of ideas but lacking the necessary talent to execute effectively.

The music itself is far from nondescript, and if judged from this angle, and on its terms, Requiem is a flawed, unique, and immersive experience.

In the end, Garden Ruin feels like a transitional album that will bear greater fruit later on.

Putting the lack of uniqueness aside, though, Drifter is a good album for Heartsounds, and it makes sense as the next step in their development as a band.

Like so many of their generic contemporaries, Oxford Collapse reside firmly in the moment.

The overall effect of Grown Unknown is subtly powerful. For an album so quiet, so insistent on its plodding pace, there are moments of sheer beauty and surprising energy.

When Yann Tiersen is on, he’s really on. And when he’s not, it’s just kind of nice and that’s all there really is to it.

Folds seems to want to please everyone on the disc, making the listening experience a bit haphazard, if not a little predictable.

The absence of energy and livid instrumentation produces a track like “Little Uneasy”, an item that fits more into emo. The two songs highlight the all-too-clean finish of some strings and vocals; they detract from the experience of a warm self-deprecation. For a debut record, Morningside shows its depth well.

King of the Dudes is well-made and sounds like a band who don't really care what they are expected to do next. But that screw-you-guys point of view cuts both ways. Ironically, Sunflower Bean's most powerful social statement to date ultimately winds up as a diversion.

A great deal of these tracks, once they get into their groove, are content to get stuck in it, which is a big problem considering how the chord progressions they’re using don’t feel like something that should be in the front of the mix.

Only one of this Club’s already modest, eight tiny dancers dare to shake their booty beyond a clock-watching, Cinderella curfew of three minutes. The result is Pleasure delivers a slightly less memorable night on the tiles than it could.

Milking the most that they can out of their straight-up duo lineup, Yun and Cundiff show the limits of what they're working with, for better and worse. Since the format only allows for so much variety, many of the tracks on Silver tend to run together.

Above the City also sounds worryingly familiar in places, sometimes brazenly so. Yet where it shines it radiates “Pop Deluxe”, even if it’s not always Club 8’s “Pop Deluxe”.

I spend most of this album confused, disoriented and annoyed, yet as it comes to an end I'm curiously eager to give it one more spin.

While not all of the songs on Menos el Oso are winners, the album as a whole holds up much better than any of their previous efforts.

This debut EP shows confidence.

There is definitely material to like on What One Becomes, but, aside from “Clutch of Oblivion”, it’s scattered throughout longer pieces that are harder to enjoy as full songs.

Ultimately, Forever Endeavour is a slight piece of work but its modesty proves both charming and refreshing overall.

There’s nothing revelatory or jaw-dropping here, but these recordings still serve as a masterclass of folk guitar given by two of the best in the business.

There’s absolutely nothing wrong with Pop Makossa, it’s just hard to pinpoint things about it that rise above any other Analog Africa album. Consider it a pleasant addition to your collection--just don’t expect to want to listen to it more than once.

This is a recital of eight solo trumpet performances that are just kind of flat, even, and dull. The Monk tunes are redeemed by the fact that they contain tonally interesting renderings of great melodies.

Eating Us is at times agreeable to the point of innocuity.

Although So You Are... So You’ll Be doesn’t shoot for the furthest reaches of the cosmos, as White Hills has done in the past, it does contain enough psyche-warping moments to make for an enjoyable album--just not the grease-streaked, galaxy-gazing, guitar glory we were hoping for.

There are no standouts or outright bombs, just 10 Dum Dum Girls songs; no more, no less.

As a whole, Spooky Action feels like a mostly great demo: In many ways, we've heard all these songs before, in slightly tighter fashion, on the last two Deerhunter albums.

Unfortunately, Swearin’s touchstones seem to be catching up with them, and the result is a strong album that nevertheless feels overtly, distractingly derivative in spots.