True Adolescents seems as lazy and mush-brained as its central character.
Another Earth is a resolutely small parable of grief that often feels menaced by its big-idea concept.
The documentary becomes a meditation on enforcing order in a world that refuses to accept it.
Timez Are Hard These Days is low-culture pulp with an unrealistic sense of its own sophistication.
Snow Flower and the Secret Fan is sad, sumptuous fluff with a refined literary pedigree.
Eleanor Friedberger’s solo debut is a loose concept album that’s dense but never overtly rigorous.
There’s an assortment of reasons to explain why The Ledge is a terrible movie, but one stands out.
Like many of Eno’s projects, Drums Between the Bells skips around fitfully off a loose central theme.
Black Up reveals Shabazz Palaces as an artist much more in line with the future, voicing his dissatisfaction by carving his own path.
YACHT gets heavier on Shangri-La, a descent into dance-floor philosophizing that threatens their otherwise polished groove.
Although it fancies itself as rigidly complex as a well-played chess match, The Perfect Host is really a game without any rules.
The album identifies Faithfull’s persistent ability to merge individual personality and musical connoisseurship.
A little bit of charisma probably wouldn’t have saved Planet Pit from disaster, but it might have helped.
Nadler’s primary asset has always been her voice.
Leisure Seizure feels inimitable for the way it seemingly exists in its own perfectly contained universe.
Mostly, Submarine succeeds by perfectly recapturing the way teenagers behave.
Circuital is a regrouping effort that serves as a reminder of My Morning Jacket’s ever-present strengths.
The film’s primary interest seems to be wish fulfillment, but it’s hard to tell at times exactly whose fantasies these are supposed to be.
Defender identifies a gifted songwriter whose words beg for stronger backing.
Jittery, loud, and emotive, Sean Kirkpatrick’s Cost of a Soul has “first movie” written all over it.