Though you could call Roman Reloaded schizophrenic, the better word would be noncommittal.
THEESatisfaction can’t be accused of not bringing themselves.
In some sense, Port of Morrow is the classic pop album that James Mercer has always been on the verge of making.
Anarchy, My Dear is one of Say Anything’s strongest musical statements to date.
When the Men set out to bring the noise, they prove as capable as ever.
Bowerbirds recorded The Clearing in Justin Vernon’s Wisconsin studio, and his influence on the album is evident.
Ramona Gonzalez is undeniably a creature of indie-pop’s present.
Stockholm’s Axel Willner has established himself as one of the most original voices in electronic music.
Reign of Terror is ultra-stylish fight music.
The Singles is a terrific showcase for Goldfrapp’s versatility.
This Sunday, Maya Arulpragasam is going to the Super Bowl, which is like Harold Bloom going to Disney World.
Chairlift’s Something dwarfs its predecessor at a nearly Bends-to-Pablo Honey ratio.
On their latest, Cloud Nothings have never sounded so sure of their abilities.
One couplet in Santigold’s “Big Mouth” could be interpreted as a swipe at Ms. Germanotta.
Yo Gotti doesn’t strain himself trying to save Live from the Kitchen.
The Weeknd’s Echoes of Silence sounds and feels like something left over from a particularly creepy Halloween party.
The reunion of Common and No I.D. sounds terrific, though the latter impresses more frequently.
If there’s a hard-to-shop-for Sigur Rós fan in your life, say a little blessing to the spirit of corporate synergy.
Though it’s no better or worse than Sex Therapy as a collection of songs, Love After War lacks the sense of intent that made Thicke’s foray into electro-funk such a surprising success.
With Talk That Talk, Rihanna functions mostly as a brand name to unify the disparate work of a few A-list songwriting teams.