Beach House’s album boldly complies the subtle and the overt.
The gimmick behind Fixin’ the Charts Volume One is a strange one.
I’m New Here is marked by non-adherence to traditional song structures and a short, 28-minute running time.
On Rebirth, Lil Wayne feels like an out-of-shape boxer being pummeled by his own beats and guests.
Charlotte Gainsbourg makes another push at mirroring her father’s musical success on IRM, her major label debut.
Hopefully this is the last in an increasingly sorry string of low-concept concept albums.
Expectedly, Y Not is harmless.
July Flame partially frees Laura Veirs from the constricting mold of her own music.
Shock Value II is the kind of bonus fluff that you can get away with releasing when you’re as famous and respected as Timbaland.
Clipse seemed much more comfortable on Road, nesting inside the work of others.
Before I Self Destruct is easily identifiable as a return to form: less commercial than it could be and better than it should.
Post-statutory rape scandal, post-Trapped in the Closet, R. Kelly has eased into a niche as hip-hop’s de facto crazy uncle.
Deer Tick’s More Fuel for the Fire EP plays as a crash course in modern Southern-rock revisionism.
It’s still a wonder how forceful and ferocious Tom Waits sounds live.
On The Seventh Seal, Rakim finds himself shackled to a mass of middling producers and unexceptional beats.
The feel of Xenophanes is sketchy and somewhat improvised, but there’s no sense that these songs are simply impressionistic doodles.
Night Music captures the macabre power of darkness, where ordinary shadows are stretched into ominous significance.
Molina & Johnson is a compilation that’s as evocative as the best work of either of its namesakes.
Memoryhouse finds Richter at a germinal stage, ranging between the somewhat dry and the heartily excessive.
What Will We Be is nominally effective but often mired in flat and indecisive songwriting.