It's nice to find a little mystification from a duo that often prizes rigor over imagery.

Some lo-fi purists will undoubtedly cry foul when they hear "The Longest Shadows" or "When It Comes," which bookend the album with slightly glossier production and an '80s goth-disco vibe that recalls Siouxsie and The Banshees or The Church. These tracks, along with "On Giving Up" and "Constant Winter," undeniably signal High Places' shift toward a more accessible sound, but they also happen to be some of the brightest spots on the album.

Bjorke's ear candy is delightful when consumed, but rarely worth a repeat. Still, Bjorke has plenty of sonic reach, and his album is worth a spin to find the scattering of gems.

Now and then, Wolf will offer thoughtful contemplations surrounded by muted chimes and generous xylophone twinkles, but if it's a matter of Wolf's work being particularly groundbreaking, then we'd urge him to think before taking the red-eye.

Sisterworld maintains Liars' sonic trappings but apparently deals with subcultural scenes as a means of maintaining identity in a city like LA.

Call it whatever you want-Barnett and his bandmates are just getting started with their musical experiments.

The resulting album is light and breezy.

Going Places has the feel of a ghost bearing down on you, and the only comfort it offers lies in the fact that it feels a lot like being alive right now.

Jaga Jazzist transforms potentially icy sonics into warm, clever outbursts with apparent ease.

At the very least, Dear God, I Hate Myself marks a new level of maturity and self-awareness for the band.

White Hills have struck a riveting balance between heaviness and ethereality while proving space rock can still stimulate four decades after its Big Bang.

The two display perfect chemistry with the Seattle beatsmith's bangers complimenting the Philly Freezer's gruff delivery.

The project as a whole is impressive, but it's a testament to Gonzales that his music holds up to the grand scope of his endeavor.

With Odd Blood, the Brooklyn trio has left behind its most obvious ethnic influences--and its environmental anxiety--for a tighter, more polished sound.

The album's dusty beats, pointed electronics, and cinematic feel are pleasantly familiar, at best they recall the band's past glory rather than pushing forward their legacy.

Bundick's Causers of This is also peaceful, but the album's tranquil tones sound a lot more like happy accidents than well-executed plans.

The third full-length from Hendrick Weber maintains the high quality of previous efforts while pushing certain elements of his shoegaze-y, minimal-inspired techno sound further.

Kings Ballad marks the natural progression of a remarkable artist-in-residency.

While the songs are still complex and full of countless moving parts, each melody and note plays a specific role, leaving There Is Love with a real clarity of vision.

Crafting spacious soundscapes, taking droney vision quests into '70s psychedelia, and offering pleasantly subdued vocals, the Oakland trio appears to have found solid footing as a band of new-school doom-rock warriors.

Instead of straight hip-hop, The Colossus is an omnibus record, swallowing brass-wielding collaborators, live instruments, hand-aged beats, and its creator's voice—all in service of a mission to unify RJ's pet genres via horn-blasted statements of intent fit for rollicking arenas ("Let There Be Horns"), menacing synthesizer pit traps ("A Spaceship For Now"), and intricate instrumentals.

the Norwegian superproducer has been intermittently working with Christabelle since 2001 and all the years of back-and-forth were clearly worth it, as Real Life is simply stellar.

The obvious influences lend more to remembering old favorites than to finding new ones, yet Dinowalrus' album should appeal to fans of no-wave's vintage aesthetic.

Impressive in both scale and execution, Heartland succeeds not just due to Pallett's sizable talents, but his belief in his even larger ambition.

The Music Scene adds new knots to Blockhead's sly, ironic take on boom-bap, incorporating shifting structures that spiral into changing tempos, half-remembered snippets of soul horns and gnarly old guitars, and occasional drifts into hazy, shimmering psychedelia. Sadly, this fog thickly enshrouds the back half of the disc as the tempos stagnate, rendering it inert and crying out for a shot of adrenaline.