It suffers from a lack of focus--some songs are classic indie pop, while others are experimental musings rife with strange samples--but it's a fine collection that displays Thorburn's versatility and commitment to writing a catchy synth line.

[The album] chugs and punches in a suitably heavy way without ever feeling essential.

Monds-Watson is startlingly accomplished for her age, showing a deft hand at songcraft.

There are some glimmers of pop gold.... But those moments are overshadowed by dated cheeseball synth presets, uninspired choruses, goofy samples and clunky rhythm programming.

They do stick to that formula a bit too rigidly: the first half is uniform in its patterned builds, and back-to-back tracks like Hunger and Wolves Without Teeth aren't very distinguishable. But the band's near-masterful ability to weave pop sensibilities with moodiness still remains.

The intimate collection of low-key art pop is gloriously weird and deeply human.

It's a beautiful record, but perhaps not the evolution expected after a four-year break.

A raw masterstroke, A.L.L.A. is a depiction of underground millionaire culture that should have "think of the children" conservatives shitting their pants.

In beast mode, they conjure that rare mix of accessibility and contrarian, uncompromising power, helping More Faithful transcend its flatter fare.

These are slow, sad ballads brilliantly executed.

The straightforwardness of their songs recalls great indie pop bands of yesteryear like Beat Happening, but also causes some of their songs to blur together.

Together, they sound kind of Bowie glam, kind of ELO, but never dated.

On the whole, L-Shaped Man feels like a boring exercise: a band performing post-punk idolatry (Root Of The World could pass for poppier Public Image Ltd.) instead of bothering to try anything new.

Stylistically, their fourth record doesn't depart much from previous ones.

It opens with the aggressive, heady breakbeats of Gosh, and segues into songs heavy on his signature steel pans and clean productions that are sometimes dull in their tidy minimalism but ultimately contribute to a wistful atmosphere that's Smith's own.

These 14 purpose-punk "anthems" (songs with loud multi-tracked vocals during the choruses) sound like Anti-Flag hastily thawed them out of mid-90s cryogenic stasis in a moment of frenzied conviction that we've never needed them more.

Not for the first time, Ciara is suffering from a case of mixed-bag syndrome, a situation that seems even direr on the 16-track deluxe version, which has two unnecessary alternate versions of I Bet.

The result is a kind of aggressively cute bubblegum trance that sounds like Aqua having a computer meltdown.

He projects a charismatic mix of youthful playfulness, cheeky confidence and naked vulnerability that would seem wasted on fun dance pop except that he does it so perfectly.

A sameness runs from track to track--brisk tempos, mid-range key, the loud/soft thing--but if you take time to work out the lyrics, you'll be rewarded with intriguing surrealism, goofy fun (no surprise considering their band name) and, on incendiary pop-punk Psykick Espionage, a welcome dose of badassery.

Mayberry may be better known as the husky voice of HSY, but it's with Anamai that she's truly getting at her roots.

Focused, domestic, deep in thought. It's as anti-complacent as pop music gets.

Lush, focused and well wrought in a way that channels the Pretty Things' S.F. Sorrow as much as Stereolab's Emperor Tomato Ketchup without seeming too reverent about its predecessors or anachronistic in its execution.

The choruses aren't quite as contagiously catchy, and they occasionally try too hard to be clever with their songwriting.

Despite exceptionally strong hooks and her fine, assured singing, it's hard not to feel frustrated by Consentino's lack of depth and constant use of the most obvious rhymes.

Plenty of bits tug on the heartstrings, but only in the moment. Once that swelling piano ceases or Watson stops singing, the goosebumps disappear.

Most of the album is kinda ho-hum and overly mild in tone, as is Pitts's voice.

All in all, a unique and satisfying effort.