Lyrically, this is mixed but has its strong points. Few write with his kind of insight. Yet, musically it fails to generate enough sparks with most of the songs stuck in similar mid-tempo modes. The true ballads are strong.

The result is a mixed collection; some good, some a little more tedious, but in the end, you can’t deny that Ramirez stayed true to his objective and didn’t skimp on real emotion in the process.

The easy rhymes so obvious in “Smile” end the album as it began, on a relatively placid note that unfortunately doesn’t change much over the course of the eleven cuts. As a result, this album title may refer to the disparity between potential and achievement on the part of Lukas Nelson & Promise of the Real.

On Happiness Bastards the brothers Crowe retreat to their safer classic rock roots with efforts that gun for mid-70’s arena swagger, falling short of the band’s prime, a touch uninspired and derivative of their best work.

Moving in a lot of directions, That Delicious Vice proves that Kid Congo & The Pink Monkey Birds are willing to experiment with sound and scope to deliver their tunes, even if not all their outings are successful.

Second Line is another strong turn from Richard, a successive trip through the different styles that have made up her evolution over the years. ... Her problem is in her execution of Second Line, an album that feels more scattershot the revolutionary. It doesn’t necessarily feel like regression but for an artist who has consistently topped herself, it falls short.

The slow tempos are fine in doses but that novelty wears off quickly. More variations in tempo would likely work better. When we get to the closer “It’s All in the Game” it just seems that Rickie Lee is stuck in that molasses-like groove. She’s intent on being a torch singer and she’s damn good at it although it takes plenty of hutzpah to take on the Great American Songbook.

Hellfire is a decent album, one where on at least half the tracks come from the Black Midi we remember, always on the cusp of something brilliant and humbling and confounding in the best way possible. On the other half though, they are lost in their own precision, echoing their better work and confusing ability with purpose.

In an album of mixed results, there are enough brilliant moments that bode to a more meaningful lyrical side for Rateliff and his powerful band, which has a knack for infectious grooves and hooks.

Radiate Like This floats along in the vein of 2016’s Heads Up as the former art-rockers wander in semi-aimless, sleepy pop waters. Warpaint’s dreamy vibe is pleasant, starting with the ambient-looking cover art, but it doesn’t leave any real lasting impact.

Overall Covers is a mixed bag containing strong song choices, but very few must-hear offerings from the artist who will always dig the crates for new covers to unearth.

On (watch my moves) Kurt Vile lets his wooly freak flag fly, never reigning in his scattered thoughts and never rocking out, content to just drift along in his unique way.

Clearly, the group put time and effort into production (the dance/electro “Flutter Freer” and vibrating “Andy Helping Andy” both sound alive) but made an artistic choice to neuter their more rock efforts. Had the instrumentals been more invigorating this may have been an interesting choice, but as People Helping People wraps, the feeling of No Age just going through the disenchanted motions sets in.

Twenty-five years into it, Jurado can still write compelling, emotionally powerful songs driven by little more than his commanding voice and a stripped down acoustic guitar. But the unevenness of this record makes it a hard entry point for those unfamiliar with his work. Longtime fans of Jurado can still find enough to rally behind this one.

On the band’s newest release, Open Door Policy, The Hold Steady moves to fully incorporate Finn’s more muted solo offerings, and the result is a disjointed transitional work.

This new one smolders but never truly catches fire. Perhaps as a measure of the emotional disarray in which Young found himself at the time—he sounds almost as distracted at times as on that Seventies LP delayed some forty-five years–he couldn’t really cut loose, even in the comfortable company of Crazy Horse.

Though the album is unequivocally emotionally rich, with most songs building to vibrant climaxes after mellow beginnings, as a whole it lacks the power, swagger, and singalong aspects of vintage soul records.

It’s also overly self-serious, an album begging to be considered above its pretentions and to be analyzed as art. For the most part, it works. It works as a piece of baroque chamber art and it works like a flip side to Hercules & Love Affair, a testament to the pair’s virtuosity. Still, it’s frustrating that with so many talented musicians collaborating on this project, it can feel like a missed opportunity.

Overall Fear of the Dawn (like White himself) never sits still and while exhilarating at moments, none of the tracks stand with the best he has written and feel like experimental jam sessions.

There’s attitude aplenty from the very outset. In fact, its first track, “Shockwave,” contains the clarion call of electric guitars combined with bluesy harp, at least partially giving the lie to chest-thumping lyrics Liam delivers with an almost audible sneer. The repetition of the refrain might be better served with an extra dollop or two of spontaneity, and while this somewhat stilted production might well be expected from Kurstin and Wyatt–who’ve worked with the likes of Adele and Lady Gaga–it doesn’t lessen the dampening effect on this performance and that of “Now That’ I’ve Found You.”

As a whole, WE is a fairly good album and would be better received if it wasn’t an Arcade Fire album.

A tense, polished, cold affair that never truly explodes into something larger.

Marshall is an artist who will work in any genre and his art digs into his psyche yet the end result can be just as messy as most psyches are. Man Alive! is far from a celebration, it sounds transitional casting a wide net unsurely searching and grasping for what is coming next.

Unfortunately, the biggest misses are at the heart of the album, as the over-long and manic “Pink Lunettes” is crazed from a bad drug trip or just 18 months cooped up, pin-balling around searching for meaning with grating lyrics. ... The finale recalls the opener with a swirling mix of electro, longing, and strings, pedal-affected guitars and keyboards, doing an admirable job recalling the best of Pink Floyd but skewed through a modern filter, bookending the shaky 9 on an exhilarating note.

Everything from future horror movie soundtracks, to thrash blasts of rage, to smoky 70’s fuzz flows out of Arrows and while the overall result is a bit hit or miss, Red Fang returns back to their sweet spot; recording together for the simple love of playing heavy music.

As a whole Screen Time is a curious listen/mood piece, the outings are all semi-interesting but (like the album as a whole) remain one note in tone, leaving a minimal visceral imprint. Screen Time’s sketches and atonal guitar jazz wanderings have moments, just not enough, however, with Moore, all guitar phases and releases are worth checking in on.

The end result works better in some spots than others, “Lights Out” feels like the artists tossed everything they possibly could into the mix and the overload/instant shift in styles is a bit much while “The Art of Losing” featuring Haley Fohr (Circuit des Yeux )is torn between traditional song structure and free for all, never truly coalescing around either.

Burnett is not a fan of technology, modern trends, or much of anything in general in the despondent middle offering of his trilogy. As a result, The Invisible Light: Spells oozes a murky uneasiness that floats throughout the album.