Goldilocks x proves that Genesis still has the presence to command a beat with her atmospheric, sultry voice and natural swagger, but the mediocre writing and production keeps her from bringing a cohesive, compelling body of work to fruition.

The album ends up feeling more like a patchwork of ideas than anything, resembling a puzzle with all of its pieces scattered. In a way, it’s the album’s greatest strength and its biggest downfall. Parker and Ritchie let us in to inspect their psychological state across 11 tracks, providing a sonic amalgam of their lives in these uncertain times, but the real question is whether or not the end result gives us enough room to truly explore.

The balance of star-crossed is full of cringe-worthy lyrics and failed efforts to move further into pop (“good wife”) and dance (“what doesn’t kill me,” “breadwinner”) realms. Produced by the same team as Golden Hour (Daniel Tashian and Ian Fitchuk), it’s hard to assess how that album’s gossamer sheen, that enchantingly revealed subtle hooks and melodies, gave way to almost nothing that stands out.

Aaron Dessner and Justin Vernon’s pet project has become the musical equivalent of Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner. And unfortunately, barring a few standouts, most of the guests add little spice to the proceedings, assuming they are even detectable at all.

All these connections Lorde is trying to make: her strange pastiche imagination of the ’70s, that random spoken word interlude by Robyn about climate change, and the themes of “sun healing,” never fully reach each other. Often, they come off as disingenuous and out of touch more than they read as brilliant, or comical. Whether the album is one big prank, or just one majorly failed experiment, the gist of having the “privilege to ignore” is lost in translation. All you are left with is just a handful of pretty alright songs.

Their latest is a decent entry into their quintessentially Canadian discography that casual listeners will tolerate and fans will like.

Banned’s air of experimentation mixed with the artists’ ardent eccentricities fails to materialize into much worth noting.

Jackson Browne is one of the boldest talents in American music, his first four albums standing as understated classics. Downhill from Everywhere, however, fails to recreate that magic, although the first three tracks come close. Browne is an intelligent artist with valid thoughts and concerns to address, but Downhill from Everywhere does not serve as a strong vehicle for such statements.

Van Weezer is in part saved to some degree by virtue of the fact Cuomo does still have a fine ear for a melody and an ability to craft whopping great choruses. The problem is he’s been ploughing the same musical furrow with increasingly diminishing returns for the best part of the last decade.

As it is, there are a handful of worthwhile singles worth mining, but unlike Monroe’s work to date, as a whole the album doesn’t coalesce as it could have.

Some tracks come close to capturing that cozy, Superwolf magic, like the easygoing “Resist the Urge” and “My Body Is My Own,” but in too many there seems to have been an urge to make the songs larger and bolder than necessary. It makes those tracks more abrasive and loud than what many would probably expect from this unexpected follow-up.

There is entirely nothing new about the proceedings on The Battle at Garden’s Gate. And, at over an hour’s running time, what’s contained here is much too long, particularly given the slog of the final third of the album.

As a whole, Show Me How You Disappear demonstrates a significant amount of promise, but gets muddied up by perpetual overexposure. It’s by no means an unpleasant or regrettable album, just one that doesn’t highlight the qualities that make Medford such a captivating artist.

Far from a dud, and most definitely something that will divide audiences rather than be seen as a unanimous failure or success, In Fernaux nevertheless reveals itself to be the work of an artist that appears to be enduring a period of reflection, rather than looking forward to the future.

For all of their obvious quality and intricate attention to detail, there is no escaping the fact that this album feels clumsy and disjointed. It isn’t an abject failure but flirts with this possibility on too many occasions for it to be even mentioned in the same breath as slowthai’s previous studio effort.

The result is a more vibrant sonic bouquet—or a polarizing direction. It depends on which Foo Fighters fan you’d ask.

For all its efforts to communicate, Two Saviors, ends up being as inscrutable as the concepts it tries to put forth.

If “Holding Strong,” “Talk Talk,” “I Can Only Miss You,” and “Don’t Give Up” are any indication, Groove Armada could easily have made an entire album of just this type of material. It would have been confusing, but they have an authentic, if not-quite-as-catchy-as-it-could-and-should-be feel for it.

Despite the unnecessary concessions to conventionality, Plastic Hearts still manages to reveal even more layers to Cyrus’ ever-expanding musical palette, proving she can take on whatever genre she desires and give it her own unique sense of flair.

CYR is a record that so obviously chasing mainstream appeal yet sabotages itself by being too long a self-indulgence.

We’re not left with much to chew on but some pleasant melodies and Everett’s signature, raspy croon. Nothing on Earth to Dora comes close to the indie rock peaks of EELS’ past.

Unlike older albums, most of the songs on Daughter lack the same punch as even the songs on the similarly-textured Real. The album has its moments.

Sylvan Esso’s third was left with hard acts to follow. For a duo that to this point seemed in full command of their mission, trying out some well-worn paths only leaves them flat footed in the wrong places.

It's so often cold and mechanical, yet wildly impassioned. [Aug - Oct 2020, p.87]

It’s not an album of recordings that can stand on its own easily. For the full experience, you really should listen to Sound Wheel while flipping through CAR MA, the book featuring her art, photography, and writings.

Disclosure works best when the duo taps into its inherent feel for the underground dancefloor and has its collaborators follow its lead, which it does on the majority of ENERGY.

Endless Dream is scaled back and overly minimal in an unenthusiastic way. Drums make up the center of most of these songs, which makes them difficult to endure. None of the songs, with the exception of “Out of Nowhere” and “Reason to Be Reasonable,” have any momentum to carry the band over the top of the mountain and, what’s worse, the band sounds bored, sleepwalking through the motions.

A strong four-song start to the album. ... Unfortunately the remaining tracks are somewhat of a mixed bag and instead of straddling the line between country and bittersweet indie pop they all too often cross the line into country. These pleasant tunes don’t have enough sharp dynamics to give them an edge and so end up as mostly fluff without so much substance and represent the reflective mood of the album.