Mastermind passes by as a single, indistinguishable blur. To the credit of Ross and his many co-producers, the experience is rarely leaden and often engaging.

Simply put, it’s just another Kid Cudi album--a scattered collection of songs developed as a concept album, but never fitting together to form something great.

A record that’s all too often content with mediocrity even though its finest moments reveal just how close it came to greatness.

Brothers and Sisters of the Eternal Son is long on atmospherics, but woefully short on songs.

Simply put, this record has no teeth.

Apocalypse Soon struggles to keeps things interesting over its modest seventeen minute run.

Unlike the best of the Notwist’s output, Close to the Glass isn’t emotionally nourishing, primarily because there’s no real sense that anything is at stake.

Ultimately, The Unnatural World is a frustrating album.

Maximo’s strength has always been in scorching post-punk anthems (“Our Velocity”, “Graffiti”) and hyper-literate melancholic balladry (“Acrobat”, “This Is What Becomes of the Broken Hearted”), which work so well when bolstered by Paul Smith’s erudite lyrics and uniquely accented delivery. They pull off the former on “My Bloody Mind” and the latter on the excellent “Leave This Island”, but elsewhere the hooks and melodies rarely match the frontman’s grasping literary pretensions.

For now, Little Red stands as an example of what happens when the zeitgeist leaves you behind.

Have Fun With God has greatest potential as nap music on long bus rides, but is otherwise only listenable in the context of its source material.

Despite its outward bustle and injections of colour throughout, the album’s personality is also disappointingly tentative and placid.

[Angel Haze is] disappointing, misguided, flaccid.

Supreme Cuts know how to construct a track, but if it’s staying power they’re after, they’ll need to develop a more original sense of what their music is, what it can do, and the places it can go.

Because The Internet is just a giant non-sequitur, a pop culture gag reel that relies a little too heavily on flippancy to ring true.

It’s just a quick way to get to what’s relevant about them, an I.V. drip of catchy tunes from a time when your emotions were still raw and tender.

As an artist revisiting a previous masterwork, he’s chosen to add maturity in all the wrong spots. Lowbrow nods interspersed with pointed criticisms of nearly everyone of note made Eminem a star, but most of the references and insults here feel dated. It’s about as timely as catching up on last year’s episodes of TMZ on your DVR.

True, not every album needs to make a statement; sometimes it’s just nice to have music to listen to with your eyes closed and your brain off. But they can do better.

Unfortunately, Night Time, My Time goes awry at “Omanko,” a grave misstep that verges on parody. From there on out, the record’s spotty.

Where Fade Away really falls flat is how it lethargically, circularly insists upon the hopelessness of Consentino’s problems without elaboration. Instead, it fumbles for anecdotes that undersell what should be highly relatable emotions.

Prism does have two bright moments of success when everything comes together and we get a glimpse of the better-written album that could have been. First is opener “Roar.”... Meanwhile, on the mostly lackluster Side B, there’s another empowerment anthem, “Love Me,” that’s the polar opposite of “Roar” in nearly every other way.

As with The King of the Limbs, Beautiful Rewind is always keeping us at arm’s length, coldly allowing us to admire the craft without letting us in on the secret. It can make for a lonely listen.

Static lacks variety. It’s just a short-fused, gloomy rehash, and what little has been changed isn’t really an improvement.

Grab a latte and strap on your headphones, lovebirds--it’s about to get soft rock up in here.

Mechanical Bull is the sound of Kings of Leon de-fanged, de-crowned, and de-throned, further evidence of their inexorable slide towards artistic irrelevance.

An impenetrable, overwrought, hit-and-miss product marred by ego.

Unfortunately, apart from the delicious pop dance tunes of “Spirit” and “Unhold,” Apar fails to make any real waves.

Neither engaging enough to be exhilarating, nor boisterous enough to be obnoxious, Perpetual Surrender simply gazes at its shoes without making much of an impression at all.