Everything I Thought It Was feels less like a terrible Justin Timberlake album and more like wasted potential. Man of the Woods was terrible, but at least he took a risk. This one is fine, frictionless, and overwhelmingly safe.

Vultures 1 won’t be the worst hip-hop album of the year, but it’s repetitive, redundant, and far too impressed with itself to be enjoyed by anyone but true believers.

There’s a world where rerecording Dark Side of the Moon works, but this redux is too misguided, too indulgent, and too up Waters’ behind to take all that seriously.

The final product is an exercise in meh as he tries blending who he is with who he used to be, along with his more significant commercial responsibilities.

It’s good that the band feels a responsibility to communicate strong messages of hope and unity to their base of fans and beyond, but it’s naive for them to think that Will of the People’s pseudo-provocative stance is good enough.

It’s settled, comfortable, and a bit too repetitive. It’s inoffensive, which is perhaps worst of all. Equals commits the greatest sin of pop music: it just isn’t very interesting.

[“Coloratura” is] the song that most resembles the free spirit of Everyday Life and how much they’re capable of pulling off in a 10 minute, sprawling odyssey. Even more, it shows how resistant Coldplay are to becoming Maroon 5. If the rest of Music of the Spheres is any indication, then unfortunately, that’s where they’re headed.

Solar Power is pleasant background music, an album you might default to beside the pool, but it ultimately lacks the cinematic grandeur that made tracks like “Green Light” or “Ribs” so deeply moving.

The resulting effort is a largely uneven collection of songs that span everywhere from an actual Bruce Springsteen collaboration to subdued, orchestral ballads, from ‘70s-indebted heartland rock to ‘90s-inspired slow jams.

Although Weezer’s shared love of (and debt) to the Sabbaths and Van Halens of the world is undeniable, their homages to those bands feel as scattershot as they are heartfelt.

All in all, he has a pretty solid record of radio-ready hits, some that could double back as hazy, danceable club tracks. But MLK could have been left to rest in peace.

Perry has always been a top-notch entertainer, who tries on a range of styles and wants to make folks feel good. I’m not asking her to be anything else. But what comforted us before, both in pop and faith, doesn’t hit the same anymore.

Kesha is in transition, searching for that balance that can give her music meaningful identity in the future. High Road’s few shining moments — the vulnerability of her ballads and the wild sparks sprinkled throughout — suggest that balance is imminent. High Road is ironically (and unfortunately) a low point in Kesha’s career.

From Out of Nowhere isn’t going to be turning heads in 2019 with its lackluster production and, at times, generic lyricism. But it does remind us that Jeff Lynne is one of pop music’s greatest hook writers, and that skill isn’t easily forgotten.

Blink-182’s second album with Matt Skiba is ultimately subpar, weighed down by stereotypical lyrics and cloying choruses. Producers John Feldmann and Tim Pagnotta’s heavy use of compression makes NINE as in-your-face as possible, not giving the songs the necessary breathing room to develop without overproduction.

The finish is messy, the mixing hops from decade to decade, and the album flow is nonexistent. There are a couple of great moments, especially “Rubberband”. But without those finer touches, it often doesn’t even sound like Miles Davis, just some dude blowing a horn.

Where earlier efforts such as Hallowed Ground saw the band command sparse irreverence, Hotel Last Resort, much like We Can Do Anything, won’t generate much excitement.

There’s an abyss between the kid on Acid Rap and the man on The Big Day. And while you can’t blame a man for growing up and aging out of those topics, you can blame him for not being able to communicate in a way that still resonates with his fans.

7 is musical Chex Mix — lightweight and best consumed in selective increments, but also strangely addictive.

Madonna has created this music for an audience of one: Herself. Often it works. Sometimes it doesn’t.

There’s no denying Future’s ability to constantly curate content, but perhaps with a little more time and focus, Save Me could have been significantly better.

Widow’s Weeds may very well be the most ambitious album of Silversun Pickups’ catalog. And though it finds the band at their most self-assured with the cleanest, most polished sound of their career, it can also feel rushed, unfocused, hollow, and, worst of all, forgettable. It’s an ambitious, heartfelt album that never becomes the powerful record it was intended to be.

The Khoshravesh brothers’ Iranian sound spices things up on a few tracks, but not enough to prompt multiple listens. Hansard’s passion seems to be lacking in the way he sings on most tracks, and that ends up being a letdown. Perhaps the experience of making the album was much more magical than the music that resulted from it.

On Free Spirit, Khalid sounds caught between wanting to play a superstar and wanting to be himself, with the result that he sounds like neither.

These new sad songs don’t quite hit the soul like previous ones did.

Of course, The Black Album is not completely void of redeeming qualities, and there will likely be many listeners who are pleased with what they hear at times. Those listeners, however, may not be those who fell in love with the version of Weezer that existed in the middle of the ‘90s. Instead, the listeners within that sector may feel something comparable to watching a good friend make a bad decision.

Icarus Falls has a lot of songs and some of them are quite good. As a vehicle for blitzing the internet with Zayn singles, the album is totally effective. But the concept is only half-conceived, and the listening experience is repetitive and dull.

On Evil Genius, Gucci Mane sounds like he’s having fun and his rapping is as polished as ever. But too much of the album comes across as filler, and his lyrics seem afraid to take any kind of chance.