Rather than a through-line back to the Pumpkins’ trip-hoppy Adore, Cyr often sounds like Corgan was going for a new-wave sound that recalls Talk Talk, and unfortunately he has neither the singular vision he had in the Nineties nor the melodic savvy of Talk Talk’s Mark Hollis to pull it off. Instead, most of the songs, all filled with neo-goth romantic lyrics, stumble and fumble over meandering melodies with no sing-along choruses to buttress them.

Music is the Weapon is a stale, mixed bag that aspires to the global ubiquity and incredible commercial success of Major Lazer’s 2015 spastic moombahton anthem “Lean On.”

Love Goes doesn’t quite have overwhelming moments to match the titanic power of signature hits like “Latch,” Smith’s career-making hit with house duo Disclosure, or 2017’s “Him.” In some ways, that’s OK.

The result is a set of forlorn ballads that start spare and gather beauty as they grow.

“Close My Eyes” feels a bit like Suicide pretending to be a power-pop band with its quivering keys and its catchy “In my mind I want to choose the right” chorus. The glitchy “Hard Times” balances Butler’s brooding with disco-house keyboards, and “Surrender” feels like a gospel call-and-response moment of ascendency. But it all comes crashing down on Generations’ final two offerings.

These overly literal ditties feel a little too simplistic. [Sep 2020, p.68]

This batch of cadaverous Bowie-isms won't leave fang marks on your memory. [Sep 2020, p.68]

Doves amble as they surge, swirling in a middle distance between Radiohead and Coldplay. [Sep 2020, p.68]

At its best, King’s Disease is a slick Illmatic redux, a fresh portrait of Nas’ now-mythical hustler years that expands his Queensbridge universe with new characters and anecdotes and finds him in vintage form as a rapper and storyteller. At its worst, it is a misguided attempt to paper over abuse allegations and a stark showcase of his increasingly questionable politics when it comes to women. 26 years after Illmatic, Nas still has room to grow.

She stops trying to keep up with the Halseys and happily defaults to the fizzy bombast that is her stadium-size safety zone. [Aug 2020, p.72]

Full of shiny seventies pop rock simulations, but you would be much better off putting on an old Todd Rundgren or Raspberries record. [Aug 2020, p.73]

It's kind of like a psychedelic Randy Newman. [Aug 2020, p.73]

Modern electric blues as Prince and George Clinton would have it. [Aug 2020, p.73]

Examines small-town origins, fatherhood, and matter of the heart with extra earnestness but few surprises. [Aug 2020, p.73]

For all of its melancholy, Such Pretty Forks feels personal but never profound. [May 2020, p.89]

The 12 tracks on Gaslighter fall into easy, radio-friendly categories: empowerment anthem, cheeky ukulele kiss-off, minimalist protest song. Coupled with a long-overdue drop of the “Dixie” from their name, the arrangement dissolves most of the group’s lingering connections to their street-corner bluegrass origins.

As with Wainwright’s best works, it’s musical theater without the theater (remember, he once interpolated the theme from Phantom of the Opera on Release the Stars’ “Between My Legs”) and it comes with all of the good and bad that comes with stage drama.

Pop-punk trio deliver glittery hooks and raw feminine energy. [Jul 2020, p.87]

The oft clunky Translation doubles down for a full-length that deserved EP treatment at best.

Teyana Taylor is a good singer, capable of shifting between a soft lilt on “Lowkey” and a strident punch on “We Got Love.” But she tends to sound like others, particularly Brandy. She hasn’t quite absorbed her influences into a vocal presence all her own.

Decently fun results. [Jun 2020, p.71]

Much of Lamb of God contains the sort of piledriving guitar riffs and Olympic-medal-worthy drumming the band has perfected over the last 20 years, making it easy for their less political fans to get in on the fun. That said, the group sounds best when they take musical risks.

Playful spirit is in short supply on a record where club beats, acoustic strumming, and parched guitar lines usually get siphoned into unobtrusively earnest background pop. [Jun 2020, p.71]

There are toe-tapping moments, but the best song is a Roxy Music cover. [Jun 2020, p.71]

This album takes a different, more meandering approach compared to Brief Inquiry, and that may be its greatest weakness: Notes on a Conditional Form is simply too long. ... Still, where Notes works, the 1975 prove themselves to be surprisingly efficient craftsmen, even as they sound ridiculous.

Not his most satisfying concept, but he can do more in 72 seconds that most artists can in four minutes. [May 2020, p.89]

Can be madcap and zany, darkly hilarious, and just plain weird. [May 2020, p.89]

The project, a grab bag of new songs, leaks, and material previously teased on Instagram Live, is often bittersweet and deeply contemplative, even by Drake’s standards.