This is music that operates at full force at all times.

Despite the growth it signifies for Mount, and the candor with which he delivers it, Love Letters is so lightly sketched that it never fully engages on a gut level.

Ørsted’s debut LP wears its history heavily, composed of equal parts previously released and new material. It is a risk for an artist as dependent on earworm shock value as Ørsted, but a deliberate one that yield dividends at the end of the day.

Imperfect as it might be, the album’s relentlessness is also it’s chief allure. In reality, Eagulls sounds more innovative than it probably is due to the world in which it arrives.

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.

Let’s Go Extinct isn’t the breakthrough that will earn them that big wave of new press, but it’s good enough to warrant some recognition.

With Cilvia Demo, Rashad proves his place in the Californian crew’s lauded lineup, and TDE show their own versatility on the cusp of hip hop takeover.

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

With each album Real Estate has sharpened this process, making Atlas both immediately recognizable and their most interesting album to date.

Tomorrow’s Hits carries on the classic rock torch, for better or worse.

The real embarrassment is that more than the work of his peers or his idols, mostly Pharrell’s just ripping off himself to seriously diminished returns.

The height at which Oxymoron’s target is set is not very impressive, but the precision and showmanship with which it’s hit deserves commendation.

Annie Clark stands astride St. Vincent, a colossus in total--and thrilling--command.

Present Tense may be a less accessible offering from Wild Beasts, but it’s their most human--a mesmeric bundle of contradictions, indignities and pleasures.

Morning Phase never sounds anything less than opulent.

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.

For as commanding and affecting Burn Your Fire for No Witness can be while it plays, the album remains elusive when trying to call it to mind later.

Voices marks a more complete work from a duo fully in sync; in their element.

Ultimately, The Unnatural World is a frustrating album.

Fuck Off Get Free We Pour Light On Everything explores the moral murk of our times with glorious abandon.

Marissa Nadler’s limnetic new album, July, is both eerie and soothing, a lullaby written to induce nightmares.

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.

It’s light, jangly, and just right for the summer at the end of this wintry tunnel.

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

Almost nothing about it works.

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.