The music may be dreamy, but it’s always passionate.

This more electronic, less organic version of John Legend is more or less as enjoyable as the balladeer stuck behind the piano.

Underworld's new album is distinctly Underworld, and has a greater cohesiveness than those previous two full lengths, as well as a greater appeal.

More fun than Come Feel Me Tremble.

It might still be restrained, and it still sounds fragilely beautiful, but even when it just misses this album will stir you up in all the right ways.

This is probably the album that Coldplay will be making a few years down the line, when they finally give up on trying to shake arenas U2-style and work more toward their atmospheric strengths.

They’re not lyrically great by any stretch of the imagination, but they could be a lot better, as their debut album shows.

While his veteran presence allows him to sufficiently navigate his way through introspective material, Kano’s simply more commanding when he’s at the helm of so-called bangers. Consequently, Made in the Manor is an exercise in dashed expectations.

With just nine tracks, Orbital once again prove that their chosen genre of music need not be so devoid of emotion or variety, and why they, despite the time off, continue to remain at the top of a heap heavily populated with copycats.

On Clipse Presents, however, it sounds like they’ve lost that drive, stopping to rest on their laurels for the first time in their career.

If you like Crystal Stilts previous output, you'll enjoy the Radiant Door EP, a pleasant excursion through their comfort zone.

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

Depending on what’s expected from the band, some fans will likely have an initially lukewarm reaction to what Langford and Van Buskirk are trying to do here. Give it time, though, and the various dimensions of the album open up, revealing a band that’s capable of more than what many people expected of them.

This is no standards collection and Dando isn’t singing the hits. The album is instead a sort of late-career triumph for the Lemonheads.

Generational obligations aside, it would be dishonest to report that, aside maybe from one reggae track too many, they're in anything but top form.

Elysium is woefully short on what Tennant and Lowe do best, which is disarmingly sharp pop songs that stick in your head but also leave you thinking afterward. There are some good ideas at play here, for sure, but neither the music nor the lyrics do them justice.

You’ll want to listen to some tracks over and over again, some just once, and some for 30 seconds or less. Nevertheless, the tracks that work demonstrate what put Surfer Blood on the map in the first place: power pop ambition, surf rock style, and an implacable conviction to swim forward even when the waters seem too rough to handle.

Wolf imposed some restrictions and added something new as well. Ironically though, it's reminiscent of where he came from as well, a little more shapeless and a lot more inspired.

Accept the band for what they are: ironic sort-of-punkers-but-mostly-jokesters who like to pun Axl Rose and play Pixies-infused squelch-rock-which is exactly what they do on their new album, Brilliant! Tragic!

It ultimately presents as bleak a view of life as any of Green’s albums, while also being extremely sweet about it.

It's pretty much what you'd expect from the diva -- cheesy, danceable and largely forgettable.

In the end, the two directions don't come together in an enlightening way.

Unfortunately for Bobby Long, today's climate accepts most singer-songwriters as pretty boys more than musicians, and he falls dangerously within the reach of this category. His songs, though poetic and poignant, are also doomed to constant airplay thanks to their familiarity.

Noah and the Whale have yet to find their way. Maybe by album number four, they will cease emulating and start evoking.

I Sell the Circus, in other words, can’t quite shake some of Pollard’s tendencies to keep us guessing, tendencies often employed to the detriment of consistency. Ricked Wicky, though, never goes full oddball.

It’s a confident, balanced work of mass art with only extremely minor flaws.

Perfectamundo is essentially tepid blues rock (featuring many warmed over standards) with a Latin rhythm section slapped on for some longed for but unrequited funk credibility.

If the Lumineers debut record was a representation of their metaphorical college years, Cleopatra is definitely their more mature, but confused, post-grad understanding of fame.

Glitter in the Gutter truly is a consistent, workable vision, full of memorable tunes and images and should serve to cement Malin’s reputation as a tunesmith with a true grasp of what shakes and moves real people through their real lives.

It may only be 27 minutes, but it still almost feels too long with how similar all of the songs sound. Best Coast unfortunately has slipped into a daze of becoming too comfortable with their sound.

On an Island finds Gilmour taking absolutely no risks, has nothing to pull out of its hat.

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.

Twenty years later, this music still sounds surprising, something lo-fi groups today can't easily accomplish, while also sounding like just some dudes goofing around for fun.

While imperfect, The Hurry and the Harm is a collection of songs still lightyears ahead of most popular artists played on both Canadian and American airwaves.

While there are enough wonderful arrangements and flashes of brilliance to point the way towards a potential masterwork in the still-young Lerche’s future, Heartbeat Radio isn’t much more than supremely well-constructed background music. The album is smothered by care and clockwork.

At a brief 47 minutes, though, it's hard to see Rihanna fans walking away from Loud thinking she's anything other than the coolest girl in her field.

Good lyrics or no, we still know Femme Fatale will be a blockbuster regardless, which is perhaps why there still remains room for Spears to try a few different things musically, and when Spears' producers are given room to stretch, they manage to pull of a few pop music miracles.

Harcourt’s sound might not suit everyone’s taste (it’s fairly dramatic), but to those who are taken with well-sung, introspective piano ballads and gloriously cascading anthems about Love and Death, The Beautiful Lie will in no way disappoint.

Love Sign‘s attempts to update Free Energy’s basic sound to include ‘80s influences is well-intentioned. But like everything else on the album, it only works in fits and starts.

The Buzzcocks deserve credit for continuing to craft new material, but after nearly 40 years, they also risk sounding sometimes like some bands they emulated, or mocked, who started long before them.

So be prepared to hit the shuffle button after you add Landing to your music playlist. But for those times you need a soundtrack for going nowhere in particular, Landing in its entirely will do the job.

There are many moments of magic on Now I’m Ready although its reverent, over familiarity with its ancestry sometimes exposes its Achilles’ Heel. Keep Shelly in Athens clearly know all the right moves but perhaps need to reveal a bit more of themselves.

You can see the seeds of what makes the Decemberists so compelling--the elaborate wordplay, the vivid images, the smooth, melodic largeness of song--along with a certain amount of appealing modesty.

Time Traveller is an excellent exercise in skill that lacks a certain amount of soulfulness.

999 Levels of Undo shows that Fisk's transformation is still a work in progress, but when he's on, the record is right up there with any of Fisk's other accomplishments.

What sets Beautysleep apart from any of her previous records is that her voice is front and center, and stronger than ever.

It is, as some tend to be, an accomplished album. It does what it aims to do: good and personally revealing pop music.

Hot Motion feels like a safe bet for a band too at ease with their music. If their music is to remain fresh, Temples must develop or expand their approach to songwriting.

[A] lackluster High Hopes.

A rather mixed bag of oddball disco tracks.

What’s striking about The People’s Record isn’t just how different it sounds. It’s how familiar it sounds while also sounding different.

All Harm Ends Here is another deliberately sludgy, dragging attempt at slowcore revivalism, but where influences like Red House Painters and Low so aptly used sparse atmosphere to convey emotion, the Early Day Miners' sobriety has yet again choked any potential life out the album's nine sorrowful songs.

It's difficult to dislike Arcade Dynamics, maybe even impossible, given that it's so relentlessly inoffensive. On the other hand, it's not an album likely to engender much passion, either. Whatever the case, if you need another soundtrack for a summer afternoon, you could do worse.

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.

On 2014 Forest Hills Drive , we’ve still got the same ol’ Cole, but with diminishing returns and without any friends to help him.

The softer ballads, such as “Speechless”, don’t work quite as well as the more upbeat fare.

Push the Heart sounds like a transition. The band proved that they could be jangly and fierce, and then they proved that they could make an album that hung together, and with Push they’re hinting that they can do both.

On Mockingbird, she mostly succeeds in making this very fine collection of songs her own.

A few of the Hard productions are among Fake’s finest to date, but this release--its short running time aside--works primarily on a collection basis, as if it were two separate EPs gathered for one release and nothing more than that.

Tongues is a record of surpassing depth and ingenuity.

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.

It’s an affair that is much more snarling and punkish than solemn and introspective and one that appears to have been a good representation of what he had in mind.

While many of the tracks on Outer South have potential, nearly all of these songs sound like they could have benefited from a bit more time in the oven.

What's most shocking is the number of forgettable tracks, something Merritt typically manages to avoid.

Sometimes life-affirming, sometimes unsettling, but always a thing of great beauty.

Rooney is the real deal, and this self-titled debut is perfect summer pop fun that aims to bring a little sophistication to the tried-and-true mainstream boredom, referencing the past and updating it for the present.

Their care in assembling their lush, provocative sonic palate means that the chemically altered or simply slow-witted should find Dreamed as warm and comforting as a fuzzy pillow.

Pure is Gary Numan's richest, most powerful and most aggressive work in years.

The Fallen Leaf Pages is the group's fourth record, and it sounds a lot like their third record, which was quite similar to the second one, which had a striking resemblance to the first one.

The pedestrian vocal performance allows his true strengths--in arrangement and melody--to be showcased without intrusion, and it’s a testament to his ability that the thrills run far deeper than surface level.

Despite these touches, musically NOFX are pretty much doing the same thing they always have.

Though the stylistic lucidity of Please and Thank You will sound like monotony to some, what I tend to hear is a consistently strong batch of songs with a casual sort of thematic unity to them.

This is music made equally for headphones, clubs, and car stereos. This is as creative and re-playable as debut pop albums get

VV Brown employs enough personas to suggest she’s struggling with the decision of who to appeal to. It’s a shame that she hasn’t got a voice of her own, but that’s not to say the album isn’t without its highlights.

Overall, Esser delivers a solid pop debut for a guy who many would have dismissed as “just” the drummer for a lackluster post-punk band.

It is the sheer imposing length of nearly every one of the ten songs here--only the uncharacteristically forthright 'Sparrow Hills' manages to keep the running time under five minutes, while most of the other songs are content to wind on well beyond that--is ultimately what ends up turning Spring Tides into something of a chore when it should be gently captivating.

Kill careens from pop rock to cheesy metal to variations on funk throughout its duration, propelled by the energetic imagination and musicianship of the band like an all too phallic torpedo. Electric Six is still a juggernaut to admire, so buckle up and ride the lightning.

Well, setting the bar that high that early on makes it nearly impossible to follow up with anything that could be better, let alone on par with how great that first track is.

Uneasy expressions or not, Swords will slay if given the chance.

If you’re up for stepping into an alternate, folk-rock inspired universe, Sea Wolf is deserving of an ear. White Water, White Bloom is an amazing step for Sea Wolf, ranking near if not at the top of Alex Church’s musical accomplishments.

While invention may not be a going concern, Two Door Cinema Club have proven on their maiden voyage that they jolly well know how to sway a crowd with infective pop gems and seemingly little sweat.

The most admirable thing Prince Rama does consists in its strangeness. The energy of this album is thrilling, though it's not for everybody.

On his debut LP, Paddywhack, this one-boy act brings together two incredibly disparate styles-nightclub piano crooning and loop-based sampledelica--to create a collection of tunes that sounds like nothing else in modern pop (no, really).

The flaccid emotionality and aimless spontaneity that's hurt their earlier releases comes to the fore with a vengeance, and the effect is flatly generic.

Some of the artists took different approaches with varying degrees of success.

We Bought a Zoo is good enough to quench our thirst for either a new Jónsi or Sigur Rós album.

Even after 20-plus years, the band still has a lot of snap and energy, and that feeling permeates most of this album.

For the most part, Candy Salad reaches for big impact, and there's not much in the way of surprise or nuance – they want you to feel things, so most of the time they bash away at their instruments and do other things to make you pay attention.

Both of these compilations [A Collection and 1992-2012: The Anthology] offer an embarrassment of riches, and in very different ways excellent overviews of one of the few long-running, still productive techno bands out there.

As a hopeful warm up to something more, and something more substantial, the OneTwoThreeFour EP marks the welcome return of a band that had been generally quiet for far too long.

While they have the gift for a great chorus that’ll stay in your head even after a single listen, their verses continue have a disappointing tendency to act as indistinct filler between the peak moments, steadily pacing along with their chugga-chugga riffs until the song sees fit to lift itself up for the refrain.

While some listeners may find themselves getting bored throughout some of the ten minute tracks, others will fall in love and become immersed in the experience, not even realizing that time is whizzing by.

The overall impression given by this record is of a band that oozes confidence even as it stretches in new directions.

The best parts of Darlings make you work, as Drew does, to peel back the surface and dig into what’s there but some of it just leaves us with quiet, impenetrably sweet sounds that repetition can’t quite crack through.