Discontinued Perfume has a net effect, despite its potpourri. Still, I wish they'd let some of their ideas out to roam a little more.

Although the construction of these songs are as stacked as on other F&O albums, this time around, the piling up of bridges, solos, and refrains only adds to House of Spirits’ tangible claustrophobia.

They are making pretty, tightly structured pop songs cheaply, or at least pop songs that sound cheaply made, and pretty, and melancholy, and somehow detached and futuristic.

Just Like the Fambly Cat is appreciably better than its predecessor, but a far cry from the bliss we've all come to expect.

Where once this cut deep, extended, it discloses itself merely as pleasant and pleasantly familiar.

An almost abstract series of daubs, here, there. Melodies submerged in machinery.

While Ready is far from a perfect album, it seems Trey is learning how to inspirit his original works with the charm and inventiveness found in his freestyles and covers.

The question, regrettably, becomes whether or not their transgressive lyrics are funny, whether they're 'appropriate' in a world where we're hung up on identity politics. This difference is significant, and it's precisely here where our reaction to Goblin becomes less weighted: if it's all in jest, who really cares about the relationship between his lyrics and our values?

Mistake may be a solid, somewhat complex electronic music release, but its nerdy precision has the tendency to render the melancholic, brooding melodies somewhat impotent.

This record is solid and merits a listening, particularly for fans of similar straight-ahead rockers like the Constantines.

Old, tired, and disillusioned they may be, yet Illegals in Heaven sees Blank Realm affirm the necessity of maturing into something more than the abstract projection of possibility.

This is pure, unadulterated pop music, and while its individual musical elements sometimes don’t quite add up to the full potential inherent within Dent’s ever-stunning vocal melodies, there’s always something going on that’s guaranteed to endear this music to the listener.

The Flying Club Cup is a good album. If you’re a fan of "Gulag Orkestar," it’s probably a great album. But aside from 'Cliquot,' it’s more of the same.

This ambiguity ends up being what separates this effort from the sort of average indie pop twinkies that were so abundant at the midpoint of the aughts.

Perhaps Negro Swan is merely a step along the way, as Blood Orange continues to contend with monolithic, difficult ideas, but for now, this patchwork of sweltering grooves, amicable conversations, and urban ambience remains limited in its vision.

Stay Trippy distills the sonic extremes of contemporary hip-hop into a potent hybrid of radio-friendly sheen and hard-knocking street fatalism.

Its energized cheeriness eventually proves itself at once disarming and salutary.

Ultimately, Soft Sounds is an uneven experience, stylistically and in terms of (this listener’s) engagement. But still, in the shimmering hooky synthpop of “Machinist,” the Morrissey-esque lilt of “Boyish,” there are bright stars hanging in the firmament.

The problems start with the production, which feels empty and stolid, the guitar plunking around like it has nowhere important to go and the drums tap-tap-tapping out mundane, aimless little shuffle rhythms.

Ultimately, though, it becomes hard to identify individual tracks without keeping a close eye on the tracklisting as you go.

Essentially, Enemy Mine is a showcase for the talent of the three artists involved. But it lacks the conviction of Frog Eyes. It lacks the focus of Sunset Rubdown.

From a purely musical perspective, You’ll Be Safe Forever remains a case of unfulfilled hope: an album that promises a great deal but attenuates halfway, eventually leading the listener down a path that’s disappointingly safe and familiar.

All of this makes White Hills sound a bit generic and derivative, and I suppose it can be at times.

Year in the Kingdom suggests whatever band he’s drumming for is ultimately inconsequential; this backwoods wanderer seems fully capable of detailing his wreckage on his own.

Pile are at their strongest when involved in slippages, designed moments of elasticity and indecision, effects incidental.

Harlem Shakes are in their early days and still sound like they are trying a little too hard; it’s an absolutely excusable quality in a young band, if not always endearing. Harlem Shakes have plenty to be proud of; they’ve also got even more to prove the next time around.

Eisold's delivery, as cliche as it might seem, is often hypnotically compelling, and the lyrics are slightly redeemed by the synthesizers.

There’s enough texture and variety to Drop to make it a consistently engaging listen, although on a song-by-song basis, it doesn’t quite stack up to the albums preceding it.