Local Business has lots of fascinating things to say about control but sometimes it gets lost in its own unruly order.

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

There's a lot of lulls in the course of Country, God, or the Girl, and the pounces are sometimes scarce after a reassuring slice of defiant afro-reggae rock crunch to begin with.

Animator is an album with a very well-built and convincing formula, one that works best when the Luyas stick to their own script. The off-book moments here, though they attempt to surprise, in the end just pull us out of what's an otherwise hypnotizing record.

Tinsel is a good holiday album for smart, gentle souls who like fires, sweaters, and evocative songwriting, and who avoid the mall on Black Friday.

In cleaning up his act and focusing his attention on socially relevant soul music, ChesnuTT left behind some of the experimentation and sense of playfulness that initially made him so beguiling.

[The song "Up All Night"] is generic, but takes a somewhat different turn, which is true for the entire LP.

It's good, but coldly so, and could have been so much more.

Riggins' talent for shape-shifting, his ability to play comfortably with both Common and Paul McCartney, carries over to Alone Together. Riggins is full of ideas, and he wants to share them.

It's all appropriately spooky, though Cowgill's tendency to "sing" like Mark Lanegan doing an impression of Tom Waits suffering from laryngitis can be a bit of a distraction, obscuring some of the gothic weirdness of his songs.

The overall feeling that this album struggles to slip free of new found influences to resonate in its own right, will not fade.

While Supermeng is a fun and recommendable LP, it's also a maddeningly uneven depiction of a skilled musician's talent.

To write off Just to Feel Anything as a misfire would be a mistake, it's full of highlights and tiny moments of golden perfection which will help it find a home in the hearts of fans and critics alike. It's just that a glossy patina makes them hard to discern.

If you can get by the instruments of choice and shed your pop-cultural and historical references long enough to forgive the undeniably cheesy synth lines you may just find yourself appreciating this record for what I believe it was intended to be-upbeat,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

Accelerator is a confounding album, even a decade and a half later. It's a clear representation of what made Royal Trux so good, but you can also see the limits of their stubborn approach on this album.

Deer Creek Canyon is full of songs to curl up with.

Soundgarden pivots and parries as usual, but a better sense of dynamics is much needed to make the performances truly pop.

This is a very solid effort from a composer who's got his mechanics figured out and now has to find new ways to expand them.

Fittingly for an album whose most-uttered word is "whoa," they seem perpetually awed by their good fortune and the beauty of whoever happens to be standing nearby.

About to Die offers a tight, effective encore for Magellan.

Instrumental Tourist can quickly feel like an experience of diminishing returns, as I began to pick out all my favorite bits and wait anxiously for those as the waves I had to surf to get there and back became more and more of a sort of test.

hose unfamiliar with the works of Kylesa would be better off to experience the full-force of their psych and sludge collision--as heard on the band's later studio albums--and leave From the Vaults, Vol.1 resting in the hands of the curious and the completist.

Simply put, Enjoy the Company isn't an overly grossly spectacular record; it is just good time rock and roll.

Remixes is an assorted bag of impressive highs and frustrating lows.

Pretty much all of Otherworldly is liberating for one reason or another.

A little more quality control and commitment to conciseness could have made Our Nature the explosive re-affirmation of talent Savoir Adore deserve. As it is, this party feels a little burned out, with two few great memories amid the haze.

Construction Sounds is interesting, emotional stuff, in spite of the fact that it is addressing themes and concepts that have been ruminated over many times before.

Vicious Lies and Dangerous Rumors is much more compilation than album album, more than any of Big Boi's solo efforts to date.

Dirty Glow is fine for parties and the like, but it really won't satisfy anyone looking for a more introspective, serious experience.

There's a fair amount of stuff here that does work here and works well.

There is no direct need to see the film to appreciate the record for its own merits-especially if hushed dark atmospheres and seemingly (but probably not) random key plinks are your thing.

Trouble Man's not the album you'll be recommending to less devout followers of the T.I. saga the way you would have King or Trap Muzik, but it's easily the most satisfying to fans of those albums in a long time.

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.

Here they sound confident on the solid ground they've built over their previous albums and avoid feeling too comfortable, which is harder to pull off than it sounds.

With III, Shiny Toy Guns basically prove that marinating in the sounds of the '80s is something they clearly aspire to. It's just that they're more interesting when they reach a little higher and beyond that.

Despite lacking the gonzo fun of Violet Cries the raw material itself is stronger.

There’s enough that’s interesting and/or good about Light Up Gold to give it a solid recommendation, with the caveat that Savage’s voice is likely an acquired taste.

Utilizing a vast array of musical instruments the pair conjure up noises that frequently unsettle and occasionally inspire.

While Arbouretum is at least as proficient as ever, Coming out of the Fog lacks the teeth of its predecessors.

This all adds up to an ambitious record, the most thematically ambitious of Holopaw's discography, but it's a set that can't quite live up to those lofty goals.

It is by no means below-average, but you may develop a fondness for the inconsistent qualities of Field Recordings from the Cook County Water Table, an album where each track--for better or worse--would plunge.

La Costa Perdida often shines in these hazy moments, the moments that match the narcotic feel of the past with the carefree present. Some of this, though, also feels rote.

Unfortunately, despite the tightness of this trio's musical interplay, 13.0.0.0.0 overall suffers from a homogenous sound.

Petra Goes to the Movies is creative, weird, often wonderful, sometimes irritating, and certainly the work of a terrific and inventive musician.

Fans of Biffy Clyro will dive headlong into these 20 new songs and embrace them as feverishly as anything the band have previously released, but that’s not to say that this record isn’t without its flaws.

These songs work together as a complete experience; with the exception of the single-bait “Eclipse”, there’s nothing here that stands out over the rest.

What saves the album, and what could end up making the History of Apple Pie into something bigger further on down the road, is their attention to melody over atmosphere.

When that intimact/insularity lines gets confused for the characters here, the album is fascinating. It’s when the two blur for the players that things get a bit more problematic.

Its vision, however good-intentioned, is a bit overambitious, while its execution and production are a bit undercooked.

Minor, but charming.

If you came in as I did in 2008 on what might have been their most eclectic and defining record, you might find this a little less appealing simply for its lack of emphasis on the melody and dialed up screamo.

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

A problem with We Will Not Harm You is that, at times, Dobie seems to run out of highway, and just ends songs mid-stream, rather than building upon them and taking them to what might be a natural conclusion.

An atmospheric and intimate experience that may not contain any true killer moments, but never slips off either and remains a beautiful and pleasant thing to sink into at night throughout its length.

It’s a good album, but not a great one, and though the long tail of history will eventually render such a long production time moot, it’s certainly not a record justifying the ludicrous wait.

Ultimately, The Lives Inside the Lines in Your Hand is certainly well varnished; the songwriting could have been the thing to use a bit more spit and shine.

Admirable as the craft on display on No Elephants may be, as a listening experience the album is often hard to enjoy.

Despite the undying retromania, the gimmicky production, and the at-times frustratingly short song times (this is very much a record that will breeze by without listeners noticing time ticking away), Clash the Truth is tuneful and nuanced enough to warrant repeat listens even after other like-minded travelers are inevitably forgotten in favor of the next musical revival.

No world expands the EP’s sound into a slow-burning stew of low bass, nervously ricocheting ticks, and rim shots. The synths circle woozily, usually providing more of the atmosphere than the lead melody. The vocals aren’t hiding, but they’re not out in front either.

Pillowfight is a fun little distraction, but ultimately feels mostly like dressing without much cake underneath.

Forma still have a pristine melody or two in them, but they’re not nearly as consistently pretty as they were on their debut, even though they’re largely duplicating the same mode.

Fans of the Everly’s can appreciate the new approach to the songs, and followers of Oldham and McCarthy who aren’t familiar with the band they pay tribute to can also enjoy the album.

As a crossover it mixes the popular appeal of a boy band aesthetic and trite songwriting with undeniably catchy melodies and the requisite wall-shaking bass.

It’s another solid chapter in Friel’s musical story. In spite of that, it’s also an album that sometimes feels like its missing a layer or two.

There is a consistency to the album that is both its strength and its weakness.

Vocals by Tres Warren sneer and paces stumble. While appealing in small doses, we’ve all heard this long before from Lou Reed.

Overall, Elsewhere is that rarity of a companion album that works well on its own.

The New Life is enjoyable, and there are times when I listen to it and quite like it. Very much. It’s just hardly groundbreaking.

It is jangly, and pleasant, and perfect for the approaching summer season.

They deserve credit for writing and performing confidently with such specificity, but they also deserve some derision for failing to even attempt straying from the pack. Anthems is a good entry into a genre that still offers better.

Allez Allez doesn’t lack for energy, but the moments we expect--i.e. the bluesy shuffle of “2 Guitars Sing”, the sheer speed of “Loud Dumb and Mean”--while they may sound good individually, create some ear fatigue as they pile up one after another.

It’s perfectly good--there isn’t actually anything particularly bad or boring about it--it’s just fractured without being bloody-mindedly avant-garde and it’s bleak without being exciting about it. It’s just headphone candy for nerds.

As a collection, it’s hard to take in Privilege (Abridged) as the best of a larger collection; it’s like listening to an off-kilter best-of record with a theme masked and bound to it.

There’s not a whole lot here that really distinguishes itself from similar material. However, the Lovely Bad Things do their shtick fairly well, and there are some outstanding moments as outlined above.

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.

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

The ladies in Lady show the benefits of artistic flexibility--not focusing single-mindedly on a single genre, but working with different sounds, and different people.

Selected Studies Vol. One is the type of album that doesn’t necessarily grab you upon first listen, but there’s much here to come back to and revisit.

For all the progress and deliberate diversification made over the past two years, one lingering vexation remains: Big Harp isn’t doing anything new or outside the norm.

Unfortunately, the ethereal aura dominating the record is not always a good thing; it drifts so much that it seems indicative of lacking focus. The songs tend to bleed together, sounding too similar.

It is an album about the ways in which we recover, the ways in which we find ourselves after feeling loss. It’s also an album that, musically, full of fitful and exciting exploration.

The band is tight and talented, but while each song is surprising, the album doesn’t vary enough over the course of its length.

Sure Isles coasts at times, snoozes on occasion and pales if compared to, say, Taken by Trees’ similarly tropical but superior Other Worlds but its bonhomie and infectious, wide-eyed perkiness still warrants a good ol’ holiday-romance romp in the dunes.

The songs so consistently mine the same material that it starts feeling like a portrait of our era as a deeply sad one, where lost souls abound.

A generous guilty pleasure that relentlessly seeks to instill guilt.

Life After Defo is relentlessly dour and somewhat limiting in its loneliness.

For all the times Ring is successful in balancing the soundtrack and ambient elements, there’s a significant problem with the synch of the record.

Overall, Off the Record is a solid album with plenty of attributes, though not necessarily an exceptional one.

Comedown Machine is an enjoyable album with some great moments, though not a perfect or definitive one.

While it might be a stretch to call the women behind one of the most revealing Twitter accounts matured, Discipline & Desire is indeed much more of a fleshed out and comprehensive effort.

What Lines means, what it wants to say, is still buried in all those noises, but luckily the noises themselves have enough charm to carry the day.

So while the songs here bang in all the ways you want, they rarely catch you off guard and they rarely tell you where they’re going.

It turns out the emotions here are real, but conveyed through a deeply (and cleverly) contrived performance.

Perhaps the album will prove to have long-term potential, but for now, The North Borders might be too modest for its own good.

With three similar, enjoyable albums of sunny indie rock/power pop under his belt, with Dormarion, Lerner may have reached the end of this particular avenue of sonic exploration.

Though there are certainly more misses than hits on Machineries of Joy, its not for lack of trying, and those hits soar.

There’s rarely a moment that isn’t beautiful, even if the ambient moments are more self-indulgent than framing, but if the album is telling a story--and it has all the interlocking parts and grandiose structures to hint it is--it’s hard to tell what that story is.

It’s the sound of an artist trying to go on the rebound. That he partially succeeds may be cause for a quiet, at the very least, celebration, just like the sound of the album itself.