The album is at once a reckoning and a self-conscious pivot.
West is still working out the contradictions in his evangelist-cum-hustler persona, comparing himself to Jesus, Moses, and Mike Tyson.
There’s a pall of maturity over The Sound of the Life of the Mind that both unifies and wrecks it.
St. Peter & 57th St. shows the current Preservation Hall lineup in a flattering light.
True to their name, the Sea and Cake really are as sweet as meringue and as soothing as warm waves breaking over one’s toes.
The guys and gal of No Doubt have never been bashful about their arduous songwriting process.
Fish shouldn’t be out of water and birds have no business in the water.
Even when Ben Bridwell threatens to get a little too AAA and formal, Mirage Rock is never less than pleasant.
Whether her strategy is to sing-song her way beyond the abrasive edges or to conversely turn her voice into an even more abrasive element, Furtado makes it all work.
Battle Born is as non-committal as a swing state, and hearkens back to an era predating any of the band members’ being of voting age.
The only thing noteworthy about the album is that George Lucas allowed Big & Rich to refer to themselves as Jedis.
The music here never has too clear of an antecedent, and the directions the album takes are generally unexpected.
Tom Krell has lent his work a subtle weightiness that becomes clear only after repeat listens.
Shields plays like a calculated retreat into something altogether indistinct and inconsequential.
If 1612 Underture is any indication, Maxine Peake could quit her day job and have a prosperous career recording quirky, investigative audiobooks.
The album is competently, often frustratingly more of the same from an artist who still seems capable of much more.
Kill My Blues plays as a truly collaborative effort.
They’ve left Hot Topic, but they don’t seem to know where they’re headed next.
Love This Giant has its share of promising elements, but as a collaborative project, it’s far less than the sum of its two parts.
On his 35th studio album, Bob Dylan declaims in the old, epic mode.
The Doom of the last two albums has indeed taken a turn toward more serious songs.