Mi Ami continues to explore its loose-groove, jam-band tendencies on the epic "Dreamers" and album closer "Slow," but in far more reserved quantities than Watersports, making for a much more exciting and immediately lovable listen.

Bass Clef may have created a solid album, but, in the end, this lovely exercise leaves a sense that it was all a bit too easy for him.

One of Paper Tiger's finest qualities is its ability to include a diverse list of contributors who provide just the right formula of loops, dub beats, and samples to the album without making it seem bloated.

Clearly, Rathbun is a talented producer, and his debut full-length appears to imply that he's nowhere near to running out of ideas.

From a distance, Paradise continues to connect the dots of Hood's career, but up close, it's completely absorbing.

The LP's 11 tracks play like a string of variations on two or three ideas, but most of Murray's and Smith's experimenting is strong enough that Syndrome Syndrome sounds more like a collection of singles written by a veteran outfit dedicated to perfecting one beloved sound.

It's a different, and more unique effort [than Rooms(s)]. Moreover, the LP doesn't look outside of itself to the same extent that its predecessor did.

One of the best editions of Total to come along in a while.

Though Miami displays a jazzier, looser, and often darker side of Brandt Brauer Frick, it doesn't overshadow the classical techno-ensemble sound the trio first introduced on You Make Me Real.

Salton Sea is good, but ultimately doesn't leave as strong an impression as it intends.

You can definitely hear her thinking her way through each track, treating each as packets of sound, to be observed and experienced in a loop.

Enthusiast is a solid, eclectic offering, and, if it truly is Siriusmo's last, it's not a bad way to end a long career.

Some lo-fi purists will undoubtedly cry foul when they hear "The Longest Shadows" or "When It Comes," which bookend the album with slightly glossier production and an '80s goth-disco vibe that recalls Siouxsie and The Banshees or The Church. These tracks, along with "On Giving Up" and "Constant Winter," undeniably signal High Places' shift toward a more accessible sound, but they also happen to be some of the brightest spots on the album.

One of the album's strong points is the balance it confidently finds between active and passive, as if it's encouraging listeners to be aware of their attention drifting between their thoughts and the spacious terrain provided by the music.

Despite scattered flashes of brilliance, too often it's an album that feels unambitious, as though it's content to dwell in the middle ground where the two producers' back catalogs intersect rather than forge something new.

Desecration of Desire is still built on everything that Dave Clarke has created to date, but the hardness is gone; and if you look close enough, you might be able to find the soft exterior he’s trying to show.

The project as a whole is impressive, but it's a testament to Gonzales that his music holds up to the grand scope of his endeavor.

A bleak and beautiful ambient record that occasionally reaches beyond its self-imposed confines.

Ultimately, Dutch is less vibrant and, well, relevant than dance deconstructions by Actress or Oneohtrix, but it's also a lot harder to pin down, and there's a rogue-ish appeal to that.

Dream On finds him utilizing the computer-processed end of his sound with a newly savage intensity.

Make no mistake, Our Inventions is a very nice album—"Rest Your Head" and "Everything is Always" are precious little slices of pop music—just don't expect kids who have been gorging on the psychedelic exploits of Animal Collective to flip out over this one.

It's a better idea to approach the album for what it is: a pretty, if somewhat slight take on sun-saturated psychedelia.

The angst and abrasiveness inherent to Adult. is still present in some form (even a quick look at track names like "Nothing Lasts," "At the End of It All," and "Heartbreak" reveals that much), but the band has undoubtedly smoothed things over and pushed its sound closer to the dancefloor.

White Hills have struck a riveting balance between heaviness and ethereality while proving space rock can still stimulate four decades after its Big Bang.

The knotty lyricism and psychedelic rumble of 12 Reasons to Die II should be more than enough to keep Ghostface fans satisfied.

In the end, his attempt to tackle the alienating, intense feelings related to this subject turns out to not only be insightful and emotional, but oddly graceful as well.

The album's dusty beats, pointed electronics, and cinematic feel are pleasantly familiar, at best they recall the band's past glory rather than pushing forward their legacy.

Home's biggest problem is that it can easily drift by almost unnoticed.