It’s not perfect, but Banks and Steelz take risks many other artists might avoid, more than proving their worth.

Stay Gold isn’t going to change the world and it won’t kickstart a new rock revolution, but it’s a terrific pop rock record about boys and girls in America.

While and the Anonymous Nobody won’t resonate with everybody, it’s still a glimpse into who De La Soul are today, where they’ve been, and what they’ve learned.

Think of the tiny overhead fan gently blowing air that keeps you halfway between sleep and consciousness. Between Waves delivers that same kind of soothing yet neutral sensation. Luckily, it also delivers some left turns here and there that stand out simply by virtue of being different.

For the first time in a long time, an artist riding on hype surfaced with an album that lives up to the very hype that lifted it. Better yet, in time, Blonde will surpass its hype. The album’s greatest feat is its ability to expand when it’s listened to in a new mindset, each reveal seemingly so apparent that you wonder how you missed it the first time.

This is music that also stands on its own, a work by turns eerie and sparse, but also tinged in the warm nostalgia of bike rides at dusk and the loyalty of friends.

Though Pure & Simple will be palatable for her fans, it lacks the depth that put Parton in the spotlight to begin with.

The dynamic range of this record, both lyrically and musically, makes it one of his most versatile and assertive releases yet.

While Endless makes its visual implications clear, the whopping 18 tracks that soundtrack it muddle his intent.

This is an unpredictable album, thrillingly and engagingly so.

The songs on Boronia are sweet, both in message and sound, a musical snack shack on the outskirts of the sand.

Pivoting genres is no easy feat, and growing pains are expected and present. His knack for precision and developing lush arrangements on these eight songs proves that he’s more than up to the task.

Dessner’s skill lies in sustaining this hazy, gray feeling without letting the songs sound drab. Hannigan radiates enough joy--even in the darkest moments--to keep the affair from being a downer.

Closer “Let’s Get Worn Away” manages to be more anchored with its sonic goals, able to shift through six or seven different phases to make it clear that Fec is aiming for a collage-like final product. Elsewhere though, Sweatbox Dynasty is mostly just composed of individual pieces of a collage, a mashup, a pastiche, whatever you want to call it.

SremmLife 2 may not pack the punch of its predecessor, but it shows that the brothers are growing musically. Far from one-note, Rae Sremmurd have the chops to sustain a long and varied run going forward.

PND has been an enigma for a while, and P3 feels ahead of its time. Still, it’s likable enough in the present that it will keep him in the public consciousness for years to come.

What 25 25 is missing are those necessary bits of relief that were worked into their previous album.

Along with Ant’s confident production work, there’s a sense Slug is finally comfortable with the man he’s become, what he’s accomplished and where he’s going.

There’s nothing in A Weird Exits that signals a massive change in the future of Thee Oh Sees, nor does it stand head and shoulders above their catalog. Instead it’s one of many great records they’ve produced and one that shows a refinement and strengthening in John Dwyer’s guitar and voice and one that will continue to fill mosh pits the world over.

At any point, the record feels like it could fall apart into a pile of guitar chords and digital code. But when it hits the sweet spot, the wobble is infectious and compelling.

While it would be interesting to see how some verbal clarity could also evolve Canning’s songwriting, the music alone is enough of a fascinating detour for him as an artist.

Health&Beauty supply No Scare with enough oxygen to make the album reflect your dreams for this world, excelling at the meeting point between its recorded execution and personal interpretation.

By lacking any resonant peg and showing little advancement, the record feels like a question mark, a gray spot on the timeline.

Lovers is, simultaneously, Nels Cline’s most ambitious and most straightforward project.

Cheena offers something different enough to merit a listen, although it’s hard to imagine Spend the Night With... leaving the kind of footprint on the impressionable young artists of tomorrow that the bands and luminaries Cheena so dutifully reference have left on them.

Though Russian Circles haven’t eclipsed their best work, Guidance is more a subtle nod to the coexistent depths and heights that have defined and run through the band’s music from the very outset.

Give a Glimpse of What Yer Not isn’t perfect, but it’s yet another solid record from a band that has rarely sounded better.

There’s sonic beauty everywhere in Boy King. The arrangements are impeccable and frequently ingenuous, but the album doesn’t yield much on repeated listens. Somehow the humanity of Wild Beasts’ previous work is nowhere here.

As might be expected from a record this big with a rolodex this wide-ranging, Major Key is an absolutely mixed bag. Khaled utilizes full-speed-ahead intensity, big room trap, and syrupy R&B, all without leaving room to breathe. But then again, Khaled’s presence unifies Major Key.

The five-night cherry-pickings are a fun listen, but Titus Andronicus need to make a descision: include properly ordered acts to squeeze the most out of The Most Lamentable Tragedy or include older hits to squeeze the most from a typical Titus Andronicus set. If the Jersey crew can make the slower numbers sound more amusing live, then maybe they can get back on track to find that original rebellion inside of them and, in turn, inside all of us.

Coming so quickly after The Album, it shouldn’t come as a surprise that Europe doesn’t exactly mark a major reinvention for Jeremih. Some changes to his aesthetic might be in order; it can seem like he sings about sex and nothing else.

The only weakness of oddments is the occasional breaks in the overall flow, moments where tracks fade away too soon or stretch on too long, or where a massive peak is dropped off immediately into a spacy low. But these breaks are infrequent, only jarring because of the comforting haze the record consistently meets.

Despite functionally inelegant song choices (“Big Red Gun”) and filler (“February Winds”), a good deal of Afraid of Heights trades in rapid-fire aggression for a calculated barrage of justified fear (the title track, “Ghost Ship of Cannibal Rats”).

Gone Is Gone plays smooth, finishes rough, and gets a little eccentric where it ought not to. Thankfully, the EP is far more good than bad.

The lush sonics of The King of Whys are a far cry from the lo-fi stylings of his 2001 full-length debut, but they seem a natural fit; Kinsella’s warm fingerpicking has always had a way of filling space and creating even more of it, and the added instrumentation fills those gaps with an atmosphere appropriate for each composition.

As it is, Everybody Looking feels like a slight step up from Gucci’s prison mixtapes, but not the major step that a Free Gucci statement album might warrant.

They’ve practiced patience and waited to arrive at 16 songs that feature either airtight pop melodies or a throwback to the fury of their early days. Never before have those two facets of the band’s personality merged so seamlessly on record.

Throughout For All We Know, her vocals display her adventurous spirit, the mixture of electronic and acoustic instrumentation developing into a funky blend.

Kuiper shows Shepherd as an artist still exploring his craft, feeling his way through new surroundings. Though his approach is methodical and workmanlike, he still manages to weave together explosive, transcendent moments throughout.

It’s full of the kind of warm G-funk that never fails to transport you to the part of the country it belongs to.

Operator drags the listener kicking and screaming into what sounds like the soundtrack to the depths of hell, where the only music available is an unrelenting, want-to-bang-your-head-against-the-wall symphony of noise.

The Maddens and co. sound like they’re throwing the obligatory tropes of encroaching middle age against the wall, hoping that something, anything, will stick.

It reinforces his talents with hints at how his influence might spread next.

A mixed blessing. The musical edifice that he and his cohorts have built is strong and daringly modern, but they’ve decorated the insides with spray paint and hashtagged sentiments.

Shura is at the center of this album, and though the results aren’t always revelatory, she herself remains hugely engaging.

It’s hard and sinister like a gangster rap album, but it’s also sprawling and even psychedelic at times. Nothing else sounds like it, and that’s a joy to behold.

These tracks have enough originality to further Araab’s run as a progressive producer and a consummate artist in his own right.

While it may be true that Forster and Thomas feel less essential than Lewis in the mix, it takes nothing away from what they’ve created together. Whether this surprise offering is the first of many or a one-off effort, NAF justifies its existence as more than a lark or an impulse by having a message and taking a chance.

The producer once again succeeds with delivering music that’s intricate and forward-thinking while still landing within listeners’ grasp.

IV sounds as timeless as the instrumentation itself. BadBadNotGood’s work with Ghostface Killah will have drawn in more listeners, but what they’ll find on IV is so much more than they might have expected.

Command Your Weather is a passing blast--intriguing to devout followers and a punishing rehash for those who’ve already heard and digested the band’s best material.

Solo albums like 1993’s Doggystyle and 1996’s Tha Doggfather cemented his reputation as one of the hardest in the business, which has allowed him the freedom to be as brash as he wants to be. On Coolaid, Snoop uses that solid footing and wastes no time taking it back to the G-funk era with “Ten Toes Down”.

Clearly Biffy Clyro see themselves as strivers, a band that charges relentlessly forward. But at times, listeners might wonder if they’re headed in any interesting direction.

Wildflower comes out swinging.

While the album features several standout tracks and stunning vocals, as a whole, over-shined production and mashed-up genres obscure Murphy’s strengths.

While the music of The Julie Ruin may not have as much of the anger and purpose that colored her earlier work, it feels like some of her most personal music yet, a reclamation of herself as a musician.

Freetown Sound stands concurrently as a deeply personal work and a striking representation of the struggles present in today’s society.

California doesn’t go out of its way to stay creative. Here lies the death of the immediate hook, but Blink-182 are having fun regardless--and hearing that may be the best part of this album.

Yoncalla borrows heavily from the ‘70s and ‘80s while never seeming anything less than modern--but Yumi Zouma seem to have stumbled upon a formula that separates them just enough to pique interest.

There’s only a certain level of cute that some listeners can tolerate in their guitar rock cocktail, but for those willing to embrace a style of music that’s immediately satisfying and goes out of its way to relate to the people who need it most, it’s hard to do better than four Brits who, by their own admission, “stumble over words from time to time.”

After starting strong, Summer 08 fizzles out, much like a failed night on the town.

The grinding synths and swells of feedback take the album to newer places, but as the band continues to create, they’d do well to cherry-pick the best parts of their forebears’ evolutions--particularly the unbridled chaos of Zen Arcade-era Hüsker Dü and the expansive experimentation of later Black Flag--to continue filling out their sound.

While it all may seem rather bleak, rays of light eventually cut through the gloom. The Bride’s captivating story and thoughtful arrangements prove addictive, as Khan’s impressive songwriting rewards multiple listens, another step toward the vaunted pantheon of British art rock.

Blanco surprises by throwing this tattered voice over top synthesizer warbles and drum samples rather than brooding guitar--a cleaner, more lush take on the work he did in Headphones.

Emotions and feelings are generated clearly, but more overt references to specific story elements (characters, settings, plot) would carry Otero War to another level. Otherwise, it’s hard to shake the notion that this sounds just like another breakup album.

This is a welcome step forward for a promising band, and a beautiful statement. However, in practice it becomes a bit laborious. Each song hangs in the same atmosphere, offering little variety but plenty of good vibes.

The Felice Brothers seem out of their depth here, reveling in tired imagery and pretending to make it fresh by changing just a few small details.

Magma might not be the album fans were expecting, but it’s really not about them. The Duplantiers had to make this album for themselves. We are the fortunate witnesses.

Although Matsuzaki’s airy voice can be an acquired taste, overall, The Magic delivers fun pop melodies that require some patience. Rather than solely detailing a narrative, Matsuzaki also uses her words as rhythmic punctuation; that’s a key thrill of Deerhoof’s catalog, but can be a challenge to connect with.

The resulting record is catchy, but ultimately falls as flat as all their other attempts to recreate the magic of that first release, unable to capture the imagination, energy, and urgency of Make Up the Breakdown.

Rather than mine the potential depths of a more cohesive collaboration, the two halves often feel disconnected.

That refusal to keep quiet is essential to the makeup of Jambinai, accentuating and amplifying traditional Korean music, turning up the noise, and letting both traditional and modern emotions vent.

With True Sadness, The Avett Brothers open up to their audience, sharing their dark depths with tenacity and bravado, all while inspiring to see struggles as strength.

The repetition of the word “mambo” over another messy beat fails to do much. There’s too much going on to really make much sense of what’s happening. Shadow quickly makes up for that with two of the most alluring tracks on the record. “Ashes To Oceans” features British jazz composer and trumpeter Matthew Halsall, providing a gorgeous contribution to the already haunting composition. On “Pitter Patter,” rain-fall piano notes permeate the track while producer Bleep Bloop and Nite School Klik associate/trap producer G Jones give it an ethereal feel.

Listening to Swans is an exhausting process to be sure, but it’s rewarding in its self-analysis; you might not leave entirely sure of yourself, but you’re sure as hell more in touch with the inner workings of the mind.

Oddly enough, The Getaway starts to flounder whenever RHCP revert back to their old habits.

A good, if standard, Melvins album.

case/lang/veirs is certainly a cut above whatever record is playing in your local Starbucks at the moment, but it’s also content to steer clear of grand statements in favor of something more real-life.

Weaves may not be using traditional formulas to craft these songs, but they certainly have a handle on chemistry, and that gives them the potential to create something truly explosive in the future.

There are fewer moments of complete chaos, giving over instead to more detailed-oriented dissections of experiences from puberty. While this might sound like dangerous territory for an artist who’s known for searing riffs and vicious live performances that include screaming into the pickups of her guitar, Mitski uses her voice to measure the slightest nuances within complex emotions.

Though it sometimes gets lost in its own sleepy sweetness, Why Are You OK finds just enough of those grand moments of simplicity.

While Last Year Was Complicated is completely adequate, its highlights are a SparkNotes summary of the pop music from the past 12 months.

BRONCHO slow down on Double Vanity, a pleasant movement in some ways. But like R.E.M.’s Monster, another one of those ambitious garage rock dalliances, the aesthetic is too dense, the result too one-dimensional.

The pop hooks may get repetitive from time to time, a fault much pop is guilty of, but the trio rework it to their favor when things slow down. For the first time in a long time, possibly a decade, Peter Bjorn and John sound best not when amping up a crowd, but when giving them a song to wave lighters in the air to.

Liquid Cool may be called understated for being Nite Jewel’s first album in four years, but it is refreshingly so.

Much like a good piece of genre fiction, Jackie Lynn is quick, sharp, and full of intrigue.

Fitz and the Tantrums is an album that feels, by some bizarre paradox, like both a product of contemporary market forces and a depressing relic of an era of the music industry best forgotten.

If you prefer the full band version over the solo, chances are you’ll dip into Piano occasionally, pulling your favorite tracks out for personal playlists. If you gravitate toward the solo rendition, the complete piano might be your background music of choice during those long, post-dance party Uber rides of the soul.

It will still be an acquired taste; not everyone feels in rapid fire triplets and fist pounding choruses, and some of it may play too heavily on nostalgia for those who grew up on records like these. But Diarrhea Planet draw from those familiar sounds and feelings to create something new and self-aware.

When retracing their steps to their well of alt rock tricks, Garbage will likely please plenty of longtime fans, all whilst developing new ways to clear the overgrowth on the path that’s grown since their last visit. However, much like Not Your Kind of People, they won’t win a ton of new fans here or prove that they’re trying a lot of new things.

In comparison [to 2007’s The Con], Love You to Death can at times seem regressive, less poignant. For those who once looked to Tegan and Sara to help them navigate the bumpy roads of adult emotions, it’s a map for terrain they left in the dust a long time ago.

With Ha, Ha, He., Mourn suggest that they’re more than capable of working their way through to that end, and putting the whole struggle on display with a righteous fury.

Their dulcet, vintage tones intoxicate and overwhelm the senses, while the cutting lyrics set the table for a thoroughly emotional listening experience.

Stranger To Stranger is poof positive that Simon isn’t simply still here, but he’s kicking with gusto. In a year where good news has been fleeting for classic rock fans, Simon’s latest is worth grabbing onto with both hands.

It won’t knock off the top spots from anyone’s Best of 2016 lists, but like a nice piece of candy, it works well as an occasional treat.

Like the rest of the LP’s most successful tracks, all of these songs latch their loosey-goosey lyrics to an ironclad repetition, the core guitar line of each tune distinguished by a clarity that turns it into a hook. Because Gunn has a solid foundation, he can wander the earth, air, and ocean freely.

For their second at-bat, Krug and Siinai have succeeded in creating a hypnotic and heartfelt work that fully validates the hubris of its creation.

It’s exciting sonically, but deeply familiar. The emotions and sentiments cut harder than before. Though inconsistent, Smith both strikes harder and keeps his audience guessing more than ever before.