Titus Andronicus – “The Most Lamentable Tragedy”

Grade: B+

Key Tracks: “Lonely Boy” “Dimed Out” “More Perfect Union”

One of the things that made Seinfeld so great was a general lack of continuity – you can flip on any episode on TBS at 3pm or am and jump in. Sure, there’s recurring jokes – the person getting washed behind the sheet at the hospital George’s mom is in is my favorite. But each episode is pretty standalone, even for a sitcom. So it’s weird that Titus Andronicus stands by their Seinfeld references, in a way. Their fourth album, “The Most Lamentable Tragedy,” is an album that links all three of their previous albums up. It continues the “No Future” trend from “Titus Andronicus” and “The Monitor,” but left off of “Local Business.” One of this album’s best songs, “More Perfect Union,” is a reference to “A More Perfect Union,” from “The Monitor.” And “I’m Going Insane (Finish Him)” is a lyrical cover of their own “Titus Andronicus vs. the Absurd Universe (3rd Round KO)” from “Local Business.” There’s even the Seinfeld reference, a “Hello, Newman” shout on “Lonely Boy.”

Look, I love Titus Andronicus. I’ve long called them “America’s best rock band.” A picture I took of them at the Brooklyn Bowl has been the background on my phone for a few years. I didn’t ‘stand by them’ when they released “Local Business” – it’s one of my very favorite albums, I listen to it in full nearly once a week. So when they announced a 29 song, 93+ minute rock opera, I went into cardiac arrest. And as I was staring at it after it came out, before I listened, I thought – “there’s few bands that could really pull this off, and I’m not sure +@ even can.” “The Most Lamentable Tragedy” isn’t their strongest album, but in terms of ambition and effort, it is indeed unmatched.

The album is separated into five acts, much like Foxygen’s “…And Star Power” last year. The opera follows Our Hero, as he meets his doppelganger and struggles with manic depression, a reflection of Patrick Stickles’ own struggles. Stickles has reflected before – “The Monitor” reflected his depression, where my favorite +@ song “My Eating Disorder” details his selective eating.

There’s a lot to take in on the album, at 29 songs and over an hour and a half long. Given that the band has always centered itself equally on music and lyrics, there’s rarely one more worthy of attention – and that comes through the most on songs that feel like they could’ve been cut. It runs too long, even as an art project, and the average-lengthed songs start to bleed together a bit. There’s also a surprising number of them – although two of the songs are over nine minutes, and thirteen are under two minutes, most of the other tracks are between 3:00 and 4:30, unexpected for a band comfortable in the 5:00-6:30 range. Some songs, like “Dimed Out” and “A Pair of Brown Eyes,” feel zipped-up and perfectly sliced because of it, but some songs feel underdeveloped in that range.

The album keeps things interesting by engulfing all of Patrick Stickles’ influences, rather than focusing on one. Early on, especially on “No Future Part IV: No Future Triumphant” and “Lonely Boy,” the band directly channels their inner Springsteen. As the album gets more indulging, the band expands influences, from hardcore (“Look Alive”) to the Pogues (“A Pair of Brown Eyes”) to the traditional (an unexpected “Auld Lang Syne”). There’s a lot going on here, and it gets switched up so consistently that it feels like where in the manic itself.

“The Most Lamentable Tragedy” is a flawed but strong album. Just when it starts to lag, it winds up again and hits you with another punk blast. And it’s needlessly but joyously self-indulgent, keeping all of the band’s linked narratives going. It’s punk, it’s indie, it’s gospel, it’s anything you’d imagine Titus Andronicus to be. It succeeds just because it has the sheer audacity to demand it so. “The Most Lamentable Tragedy” is a beast, and with another dense, lengthy concept album under their belt, it’s safe to say we have no idea where +@ are going next. Their next album might equate struggles with body identity to stories of ancient gods, or it might be a Bon Jovi covers album. It’s tough to say, and that’s what makes +@ America’s best rock band.

If you like this, try: self-immolation

-By Andrew McNally

Fade In Playlist: Wilco

With the surprise release of their ninth album, the lawsuit-nudgingly titled “Star Wars,” Wilco have entered another new chapter in their career. Most bands won’t have as many phases as this over only nine albums, but most bands aren’t Wilco. From Texas blend alt-country, to Chicago migraine-imitating noise rock, to a restless feeling of “dad” music, Wilco have managed to separate and reflect on their influences individually, based on the times. And with no bad albums under their belt, there’s a lot of ground to cover if you’re just getting into them. So I’m here to help – below is a Spotify playlist of 10 Wilco songs to get you started. Because picking 10 good Wilco songs could basically be done by just throwing 10 darts at a list of their music, I’ve limited my personal picks and leaned heavily on what I feel are their objective best works.

Since I jump around in their discography, here is a list of their albums chronologically:

“A.M.” – 1995
“Being There” – 1996
“Summerteeth” – 1999
“Yankee Hotel Foxtrot” – 2002
“A Ghost is Born” – 2004
“Sky Blue Sky” – 2007
“Wilco (the Album)” – 2009
“The Whole Love” – 2011
“Star Wars” – 2015

1) “Misunderstood”

One of the earliest great Wilco songs, “Misunderstood” shows the band already tempting their audience with an avant-garde sound. 1996’s “Being There” was the band’s second album, and one that established them as an alt-country group worth watching. But the leadoff track has a heavy, restless guitar line amidst its piano and country rhythms. It was a sign of what was to come, and is still a live staple to this day.

2) “Wilco (the Song)”

2008’s “Wilco (the Album)” saw the band poking fun at their diverse discography by embracing all of it at once. A weaker release in their discography, but still a fun insight into a band looking back at themselves. Another leadoff track, “Wilco (the Song)” is a quick, catchy guitar ditty reminiscent of their “Summerteeth” era transitional period. Though simplistic, it’s both indicitave of the band’s power on the indie front, and a song that never gets old.

3) “Impossible Germany”

Definitely one of Wilco’s best songs is a showcase for Nels Cline. In between “A Ghost is Born” and 2007’s “Sky Blue Sky,” Wilco drafted legendary jazz and noise rock guitarist Nels Cline and let him show off here. The song follows a “Marquee Moon” trajectory – a song they’ve covered live – by starting as a standard rock song, with cryptic lyrics, before devolving into a very lengthy guitar solo. And just like the Television song, the best part of the solo is when the rhythm guitar line develops on it’s own. And despite it all, “Impossible Germany” manages to have a relaxed, calming tone to it. A modern guitar odyssey.

4) “I’m the Man Who Loves You”

The legend of Wilco’s utter struggle and total redemption recording 2002’s “Yankee Hotel Foxtrot” has been extremely well-documented, so here’s just a quick rundown – band members came to blows over the album’s significantly more noisy, abrasive and unpredictable sound, and from the time recording started to the album’s release, two members were replaced. Meanwhile, Reprise Records rejected the album, as even Wilco’s more radio-friendly work wasn’t selling. They asked for the rights to their music back, which Reprise gave for free. Wilco then sold the album to Nonesuch Records – another Warner Bros. subsidiary, who released it. The album, which was originally slated for release on 9/11, eventually came out on 4/23/2002, with the band touring with a different line-up than on the album. But it has gone on to become Wilco’s most successful album, and a certifiable indie classic. Picking just two songs from the album for this list is nearly impossible, but this song is both the album’s most abrasive and catchiest song, an example of how well they’ve become at blending the two.

5) “Where Do I Begin”

Over a decade after “Yankee Hotel Foxtrot,” we’ve got Wilco feeling restless again. Their new album “Star Wars” is their first fun album in a long, long time, and shows the band refusing to mature and settle into a “dad-rock” sound that they’ve been on the fringe of. While the album is filled with guitar-heavy ditties, the best songs are ones like “Where Do I Begin,” which start like previous midtempo Wilco songs that give the aura of “Okay, they got that out of their system,” before suddenly switching gears. “Where Do I Begin” stops suddenly and lets a jazzy drum line come in and wrap up the song, all in under three minutes.

6) “Via Chicago” (Live Version)

Look, no band is perfect. No band knows this better than Wilco. Back before they had nine albums, Wilco once did a multi-show run in their now-hometown Chicago where they played every song in their discography over a few nights. There were some that Tweedy apologized for and complained about them being too boring. To me, “Via Chicago” is one of those – a centerpiece of “Summerteeth” that’s a dull ballad. But this live version from “Kicking Television” again highlights the way Wilco have an eye for warping and changing their music, by incorporating three sudden, sweaty noise build-ups amidst the original version. It’s a shock. Bonus: watch the video, where Tweedy calmly plays his acoustic guitar, totally ignoring the insanity around him.

7) “Walken”

“Walken” is a live staple for Wilco, even though audiences usually seem lukewarm to the band playing it. I don’t get it – it’s one of the most fun songs in the band’s discography. With semi-meta lyrics surrounding a country guitar line and jazzy drums, it’s an amalgum of Wilco’s interests. And, as a part of “Sky Blue Sky,” it’s Nels Cline-heavy. “Walken,” with no actual relation to the actor, is an upbeat track with a number of different things going on at once, and shows how well the band works together, especially with their current long-running line-up.

8) “Can’t Stand It”

The tribulations of “Yankee Hotel Foxtrot” really started back with 1999’s “Summerteeth.” Warner Bros. had joined with Time and were in debt – the labels were pressured to find hit acts. Howard Klein – the man who kept convincing Reprise to stick with Wilco – made it his swan song to convince Reprise to do it yet again (something he couldn’t do with “Yankee,” as he was soon fired). Reprise told Wilco they needed a radio hit single, so the band agreed “once and only once” to rework one song, “Can’t Stand It,” into a poppy single. The reworked version, done in one day, leads off the album, but unfortunately still wasn’t enough – it failed to make airwaves and the album sold less copies than it’s predecessor, “Being There.”

9) “Company In My Back”

I’ll be upfront on this one – I’m not really a fan of Wilco’s fifth album, “A Ghost is Born.” Tweedy adapted even more of a lead role on the album, playing lead guitar for the first time in the band’s run. The album, the follow-up to “Yankee,” follows the unpredictable tone but is significantly darker, with Tweedy taking inspirations from his lifelong migraine problem, which had been getting even worse. Wilco’s most infamous song, “Less Than You Think,” is a 15-minute electro-drone song that is supposed to mimic a migraine (an interesting piece that’s extremely out of place on a Wilco album). Still, the album has some great tracks, like this surprisingly catchy low-key one. It’s a rare Wilco song that would fit on any album.

10) “I Am Trying to Break Your Heart”

One of Wilco’s most well-known songs, the opener to “Yankee” is an avant-garde opus, nearly seven minutes of nonsensical lyrics, drones, clock chimes and piano. Naturally, the meat of the song is still very catchy, but everything going on around it was nothing that Wilco fans had ever heard before. Any noise influence before “Yankee” – and most after – was crafted just with studio instruments. But this song pummels itself into outside noises. And tempo changes, and a reference to an upcoming song (“I’m the Man Who Loves You,” again). “I Am Trying to Break Your Heart” must have been the underground version of Dylan going electric – an alt-country band going freak-out. The song may have been written from the depths of Tweedy’s opiate addiction, and while 75% of me is glad he kicked it years ago, 25% of me wants another “I Am Trying to Break Your Heart.”

There’s really no saying where Wilco will go next, but given their track record, it’s likely to be something they haven’t done before – and it’s probably going to be great.

Previous playlists: Beck, Death Grips

By Andrew McNally, who has loved Wilco for many years but has sadly only seen them once.

Wilco – “Star Wars”

Grade: A-

Key Tracks: “You Satellite” “Where Do I Belong”

Wilco are at an important point in their career. Like many artists before them – namely David Bowie, who they channel heavily here on their ninth album – they’re at a point where they’re growing restless again. Wilco established their original sound, as an alt-country band. And then, out of nowhere came “Yankee Hotel Foxtrot” and “A Ghost is Born,” their creative reawakening albums (although in most band trajectories, this period comes from creative woes, not accidental painkiller addictions). After Jeff Tweedy recovered, the band’s sound settled into a more mature, introspective look with the still-excellent “Sky Blue Sky.” And the two albums since then have seen the band embrace their catalog as a whole, both poking fun and honoring their creativity of the past.

But, like Bowie did on “The Next Day,” they’re again growing restless with maturity. “Star Wars” is unlike any other Wilco album, in many ways. For on thing, it’s called “Star Wars.” Also, the cover has an adorable cat on it. It looks more like the cover for a Dusty Springfield record, not a Wilco one. And the songs are shortened, tightened and energized. There’s certainly other Wilco songs that would feel comfortable on this album – “Shot in the Arm,” “Wilco (the Song)” come to mind. But the band has created songs that don’t give themselves room to breathe. At 2:30, “Pickled Ginger” sounds just like a cut Deep Purple song with it’s fuzzed-out, grinding guitar line. Although “Star Wars” is distinctively Wilco, the songs here have traveled a long way from “Impossible Germany.” And it’s not a criticism – it’s a familiar sound, in an unfamiliar package. At 33:47, it’s the band’s shortest album by nearly ten minutes (ten minutes being two-thirds the length of their longest song). And as a band that’s stayed reliant to the album format, their decision to drop this release suddenly and for free online is growth as well.

Although the band has been playfully looking back at their earlier works in recent years, “Star Wars” marks the first time in years that they’ve actually incorporated any elements with an avant garde feel. They come mainly in the opener, “EKG,” a 1:15 chippy, dissonant intro that doesn’t serve as a standalong song, instead as a declaration of what’s to come.

Also, Jeff Tweedy as a frontman and songwriter seems to be less of a focus on this album. Something noticeable about one the album’s best songs, “You Satellite,” is that the volume of his vocals is closer to the rest of the instruments, instead of being at the forefront. And eventually, he gives way to the music entirely. Tweedy’s lyrics on this album aren’t his best (they’re a lot vaguer than past Wilco albums), but the focus is on the music and the vibe anyways. The longer they’ve been around, and especially since they’ve developed a more steady line-up, Wilco has seemed more like a full band and less like a collective.

Wilco haven’t released a mediocre album since 1999’s “Summerteeth,” but it’s been a long time since they’ve released a great one, too, and that’s just what “Star Wars” is. This is their best album since “Sky Blue Sky” in 2007 and, if you like just fun and lively Wilco, then before that. There are moments of beauty and grace on “Star Wars,” especially in affectionate closer “Magnetized.” But more often than not, those moments are often followed up by a sudden drum line, feedback or guitar melting. Just as you would expect from a band growing restless yet again.

If you like this, try: This one’s probably obvious since I mentioned it, but it’s stylistically and tonally resembling of Bowie’s “The Next Day,” if not actually all that similar.

Muse – “Drones”

Grade: D+

Key Track: “Reapers”

When you’re a band that’s been making the same album over and over again for 15 years, you should know better than to call it “Drones.” I won’t even touch the easy joke, nor will I say anything about the art-rocity on the cover. Let’s just not even spend time there.

Muse makes music for teenagers. I don’t know if it’s intentional or not, but they do. I was 14 when “Absolution” came out, and it rocked my world for a while. “Drones” takes a predictable anti-war stance, and man, if this had come out a decade ago, I would’ve fallen in love with it like it was any girl I talked to. Certain songs from “Drones” have Hot Topic-primed lyrics, down to a concept that’s confusing and inconsistent.

“Drones” supposedly follows someone as they join a military and become a human drone, or something Muse-y like that. It’s not always coherent, and it leads to very Muse-y songs like “Defector,” that has a chorus of “I’m free from society / You can’t control me,” or “Revolt,” which is pretty self-explanatory. The album’s second track is an interlude, of a drill sergeant prepping a soldier to be a “killing machine,” which is pretty much the equivalent to Kevin James starring in “Apocalypse Now.”

Musically, Muse looked to get back to basics on “Drones.” It doesn’t always work, but they have stripped themselves down a bit compared to the past few albums. Given that “The 2nd Law” had a literal dubstep song, hearing just the guitar-bass-piano-drums combo of the “Origin of Symmetry” days is a relief. It’s not enough – the strength of Muse’s early albums lies in their restlessness, as they clearly had ambitions that they couldn’t yet meet. But it is still an improvement. “Reapers” is the closest to classic Muse (note: to me classic Muse is “Newborn”). 10+ minute penultimate track “The Globalist” also hits old Muse for a while, before falling into terrible ballad territory (and giving way to the closer, “Drones,” which is Matt Bellamy a capella layered over himself – yikes).

Compared to the slough they’ve been slinging at us for a few years, “Drones” isn’t so bad. But there’s a second interlude on the album that’s part of a speech from JFK and it’s just like, come on guys. You’re British. This album is about drones. None of it makes any sense. Muse revel in their corniness, and it affects their songwriting. There’s some generally good Muse songs on this album, but they’re too few and far between to make you think they’re a band worth paying attention to again. 15 year-olds are probably going to pick this album up, and it might inspire them – that’s good. “Absolution” inspired me. It made me more political, and more musical. But it also advanced me past self-serving bands like Muse. Ten years from now, when Muse hits 31 years as a band, the kids that picked up “Drones” are going to smirk at themselves, at how far they’ve come since those teenage days.

-By Andrew McNally

Jen Kirkman – “I’m Gonna Die Alone (And I Feel Fine)”

Grade: A-

On her last special, 2011’s “Hail to the Freaks,” Jen Kirkman was blessed with a wealth of material for stand-up – she had just gotten married. Now it’s four years later, and Kirkman has found herself with an even bigger plate of material – divorce. And turning 40. “Freaks” had a weird mismatch, of Kirkman’s largely cynical comedy battling with her joy of being married. All of that is swept under the rug on her new Netflix special, in favor of well over an hour of jokes and stories about self-love and self-confidence in defiance of age and gender standards.

Much of “I’m Gonna Die Alone” is devoted to how Kirkman at first uncomfortably, and now comfortably stands against the ideals of what a 40 year old is “supposed” to be. Kirkman is free, literally, to criticize those with kids, or to date anyone (including a 20 year old drummer, two days after her and her husband separated). On “Freaks,” a 36 year old Kirkman sounded surprisingly happy to be settling into a married life, one she never thought she’d fit into. Looking back now, present-day Kirkman realizes she was probably right all along.

Outside of marriage and divorce, Kirkman’s special still deals heavily with age. She struggles to find breakfast for her 17 years younger drummer boyfriend because she’s forgotten what it’s like to have to eat immediately. She attributes losing 40 pounds to standing while watching TV and having an occasional cigarette. And when she finds gray pubic hairs, she’s worried it’s going to look like barbed wire.

Kirkman’s confidence has risen considerably in the years since “Freaks.” She’s cynical, but she’s not bitter. Her cynicism is instead placed in her proud and utter rejection of societal standards. She doesn’t let anything weigh her down. She could easily (and maybe expectedly) taken the self-deprecating route that so many comedians have gone down in the wake of Louis CK, but she doesn’t. One of the special’s strongest suits is how easily Kirkman is able to dig out her niche in the world and observe it from the outside. Even in one of the special’s opening bits, about Dave, a man who doesn’t know the difference between lemons and limes, Kirkman observes the stupidity of humankind as an outsider. By ignoring the social norms she once embraced, she’s crafted a unique voice, and it has sharpened her comedy and delivery. With heightened TV appearances and a best-selling book under her belt, Kirkman is still on the rise. “I’m Gonna Die Alone (and I Feel Fine)” feels like a caged animal trying to get out. And watch out, because it’s soon going to be free.

If you like this, try: Kyle Kinane’s recent album, ““I Liked His Old Stuff Better,”” is one that departs from the expected self-deprecation route just like this one (and has already become one of my favorite stand-up albums).

The Sonics – “This is the Sonics”

Grade: A-

Key Tracks: “I Don’t Need No Doctor” “Save the Planet”

Does history repeat itself, or do things never change?

Fans of My Bloody Valentine, Guns N’ Roses and the Stooges are breathing a sigh of relief. “At least I’m not a Sonics fan.” “This is the Sonics” now takes the cake as the longest time in between albums. It’s the first album from the band’s original line-up in 49 years, and they play like nothing’s changed. Although the members are now in their 70’s, they’re still playing incendiary pre-punk garage rock.

This album plays like a movie in a series that ignores the films that came before it. The Fast and Furious series ignores Toyko Drift, like the film never happened. Except that in the world of the Sonics, what hasn’t happened is punk, disco, new wave, hip-hop, metal, boy bands, and everything else since “Sgt. Pepper”. The Sonics play like they’re still the forefront of music, something that would be vain if it mattered. In reality, it’s an incredibly refreshing listen. The band blow through 12 garage instant-classics in 32 minutes, each as good as the last.

All of the instruments work off each other on the album – there’s no competition for value. This is partly garage-rock mentality, and partially due to the record being recorded in mono. The producer, the legendary Jim Diamond, does little more than hit the start and stop buttons, just recording the band live. To add any flourishes, or to clean the sound up, would do the band injustice. Instead, the band is recorded as they should be – geared up, roaring with a possibly vampiric energy that some bands can’t match when they’re young.

There’s only really two nods to the fact that the Sonics aren’t still in 1966. The first is the inclusion of horns, something that wasn’t in the band until entirely different iterations of the Sonics played into the 70’s. The other is the late-album “Save the Planet,” which addresses global warming in the most Sonics way possible, by letting us know Earth is the only planet with booze. “Reality’s for people who don’t know how to drink,” Jerry Roslie sings, daring us to ignore his age.

The Sonics still have a cynical edge to their lyrics, a cynicism that separated them from the more party-hardy garage acts of the 60’s. There’s a relatively harmless causal sexism to the lyrics, much like the 60’s, as well as songs like “I Got Your Number,” with “I’ve Got Your Number, and it’s 666” sung in an offhand way. By convincing themselves that 60’s garage rock still wants to be heard, they’ve convinced us that lyrics like this are still surprising. “This is the Sonics” boasts a very 60’s throwaway album title (like “The Who Sings My Generation”), but it’s also very literal – this is them, all these years later. And to anyone that wasn’t around then, this is what they were. And it’s what they still are. 2015 hasn’t stopped throwing surprises at us, and a wholly rocking new Sonics album is something none of us expected.

If you like this, try: early garage rock like this has a big influence on the Burger Records type surf-punk bands, try Japanther at their more direct (“Surfin’ Coffin”).

-By Andrew McNally

Snoop Dogg – “BUSH”

Grade: C

Key Tracks: “Peaches N Cream” “Run Away”

There’s a question I’ve had about ridiculously famous rappers for a while – what path do they follow, when they grow older? Classic rock singers like Rod Stewart and even Bob Dylan have been going the route of covers albums, so I’ve been wondering where a rapper like Snoop might go. Turns out, he doesn’t really know either. “BUSH,” his thirteenth album, meanders around basic funky rhythms with the aura of a man who hasn’t given up, but just doesn’t feel he has anything new to say.

It’s safe to say that the music that Snoop has put out in this millennium hasn’t tried to be revolutionary. “Drop It Like It’s Hot,” even as a potential candidate for one of hip-hop’s greatest songs, doesn’t try to prove anything. His Snoop Lion phase didn’t prove anything we didn’t already know (nor was it taken very seriously). So now that we’re 15 years into this century and Snoop Dogg is ever-increasingly just a family man, his music has taken a natural progression towards the fun and breezy. It often is, but it begs to wonder why it exists in the first place.

After a midtempo intro with Stevie Wonder, the next four songs on “BUSH” are all Snoop solo, and they could all really use the kick of someone else. “This City” serves as the best, centered around a hypnotic vibraphone rhythm, going on only slightly too long. The weakest of the four is “R U A Freak?,” with some groan-worthy punny lyrics and an uncredited appearance from Charlie Wilson so prevalent that I’m honestly not sure Snoop even shows up on the track.

There are brighter points later on the album. At the sixth of ten tracks, “Peaches N Cream” is the first one that really feels inspired. It’s the only song that credits Charlie Wilson, although he shows up on four tracks. “Run Away” features a surprising collaboration with Gwen Stefani, who channels her No Doubt years instead of her solo pop career. She adds a late spark to the album that’s missing elsewhere. And the album’s finale, “I’m Ya Dogg,” has guest verses from Rick Ross and Kendrick “some of ya’ll share bars like you got the bottom bunk in a two-man cell” Lamar, who called it himself – although the song is great, and really the album’s only true rap track, Snoop takes a vocal backseat and gets lost in the mix.

The funk revival of 2015 doesn’t seem like something planned, more coincidental. Snoop, Lamar, and Mark Ronson have all released funk-heavy albums, but each with a foundation coming from a different place. It’s going strong nonetheless, and the music is at least funky. Wonder is wasted in a lifeless opener, but “BUSH” does have it’s funky moments at times. It’s fun, and I think that’s all that Snoop’s going for now. If so, then it’s a minor success. But even so, he seems too content to be releasing placeholder, schlocky albums. This is the man who was vaguely involved in murder charges; the man with a drug rap sheet longer than Willie Nelson’s. It doesn’t seem right that he has settled into such a steady and easy life that he can release self-serving, basic funk. From reggae on “Reincarnated” to funk on “BUSH,” it seems like Snoop is closer to forfeiting the rap game rather than leaving it behind. But, it answers my question. When a successful rap artist can make enough and settle down, provided they didn’t marry Beyonce, then what are they to do? Keep it easy.

-By Andrew McNally

METZ – “II”

Grade: B-

Key Tracks: “Acetate” “Kicking a Can of Worms”

METZ named this album “II” because they knew it would serve as a sequel. They came out swinging on their self-titled debut album, and fell into the rarity of an instant classic punk release. Even in a crowded genre, the album defied genre. “METZ” was like a butcher, taking a typical post-punk album and rolling it into one long strand, making incisions every few inches. Their music is extremely metrical, in a way that punk and post-punk usually prides itself on going against. “II,” unfortunately, doesn’t quite keep the energy. But it is a proper sequel.

Sequels are difficult – how much do you acknowledge the original? On the spectrum of “Godfather Part II” to “Hangover Part II,” METZ here fall somewhere around “22 Jump Street,” or “Led Zeppelin 2,” in the acknowledgement that yes, it’s more of the same, but you liked it the first time. METZ have a formula to their music that’s distinctly their own, but they’re already deviating from it.

The worst moments of “II” are the ones where METZ sound like they’re retreading themselves. The band, surprisingly, suffers from the “Give ‘Em Enough Rope” struggle of recapturing a debut album’s sheer energy. The songs presented here are sometimes more forceful than others, and sometimes more well-mixed than others. “Acetate” and “Landfill” have energy to them, while “Spit You Out” and “Nervous System” could use a little boost. And while the balance between heavy instrumentation and vocals is usually balanced, on “Wait in Line” it is too heavily in favor of the music. The lyrics throughout edge on intelligible, but “Wait in Line” is the only track where they’re too muted.

Still, the band recognizes that they can’t completely recreate their first album, and they allow themselves some flourishes. There’s something close to a solo on “Spit You Out,” and there’s a tremolo bit on “Eyes Peeled” that could be mistaken for a solo. They break out of their own system a bit, more than they allowed themselves to do on “METZ.” The vocals on “The Swimmer” are more frantic than they were before. There’s signs that the band knows this is a brand that can’t keep going forever. And at the end of it, “II” still rocks pretty hard. They might not be able to keep this formula up for long, but it’s still working in their favor.

If you like this, try: There’s a hundred different ways I can go with this one, but I’ll keep it basic. One of the best of the year – Sleater-Kinney’s “No Cities to Love”

-By Andrew McNally

Mumford & Sons – “Wilder Mind”

Grade: D

Default Key Track: “Tompkins Square Park”

There was a time when vagueness was a part of rock music. It was big in classic rock – Springsteen and AC/DC alike told stories of everymen that resonated, even though they’re details were ripped out of entry level creative writing classes. Think about Tom Petty’s “Free Fallin’” – it describes a very specific girl, but an everygirl. Mumford & Sons harken back to the days of classic rock storytellers on their first electric album, “Wilder Mind.” But then isn’t now. Mumford & Sons going electric doesn’t resonate like when Dylan did it – hell, they’re probably quieter here. And in an incredibly overpopulated music scene, with artists like FKA twigs, Grimes, Viet Cong and TWIABPAIANLATD melting and reforming hybrid genres, and artists crafting increasingly more specific lyrics – see “Groin Twerk,” “Sometimes,” “King Kunta” – vagueness isn’t going to get you anywhere.

“Monster.” That was my choice for the first ballad of the album, when I first looked at the tracklist. Not because of the title, far from it – just because it was the sixth track. I was right. The album was predictable from the get-go; what you expect is presented almost exactly. The band sounds like any myriad of guitar-driven indie bands that’s existed from ’91 – present. There’s almost nothing memorable here. “Wilder Mind” stands equal with any of the non-“Hot Fuss” Killers albums, and any Coldplay album, as that album that most dads hold on to as a last grasp at trying to bond with their kids over music.

The album’s worst quality is that it isn’t worse than it is. If this album were actually worse, it could be fun-bad, like an ironic listen that you listen to for a laugh. But it’s just bland. It’s tepid, totally drained of life. There’s almost nothing enjoyable, and it’s forgotten before it’s even over. There are highlights, at least – the band sounds engaged on the opener “Tompkins Square Park,” a song that could stand as a Death Cab ripoff. And they do bring an energy to the table late on the album, on “Ditmas.” But the two Brooklyn-named songs notwithstanding, nothing else works here.

Mumford & Sons came out of the gates swinging a few years ago, armed with banjos, a new sound that rivaled acoustic dubstep, and a ridiculous personae that couldn’t be ignored. It got old fast, as they played themselves out, but they rode the world for a few years. Why they’d follow up a Grammy-pummeling album with this light-hearted, dull mess is beyond comprehension. Credit to a band trying to reinvent themselves, but “Wilder Mind” is just an old grenade, hissing with it’s pin pulled, and a crowd standing, slowly moving their fingers from their ears.

There aren’t even any songs about Gene Wilder. Should’ve been called “Whiter Mind.”

If you like this, try: catching up with the times

Alabama Shakes – “Sound and Color”

Grade: A-

Key Tracks: “Don’t Wanna Fight” “Gimme All Your Love” “The Greatest”

Alabama Shakes’ “Sound and Color” is their sophomore album, but you wouldn’t know it. They sound like veterans, who have earned the right to indulge themselves in whatever they want. They spend most of the album resembling bands that have come before them – anywhere from TV on the Radio, to Citizen Cope, to the MC5. But all the while, aside from a few digressions, they’re a Southern blues-rock band, in total control of their sound. If they want to have fun, they’re damn well going to have some.

The opening song is the title track, a minimalist song based around layered vocals and beats. Intentional or not, it harkens strongly back to TV on the Radio’s opener “I Was a Lover” (from “Return to Cookie Mountain”), as a hushed song that gives the impression that the band could, but isn’t necessarily going to, erupt. The album follows exactly as it’s presented – usually calm and ethereal, but with occasional, noisy flourishes. The second track, “Don’t Wanna Fight,” establishes a smooth guitar line that’s instantly more melodic than the whole previous song. Brittany Howard’s vocals come in as a prolonged squeak, because, why not? Smooth blues vocals are expected to complement the music, and she gets to that point. But fighting the grain is the album’s mission statement.

“Sound and Color” is an album that sounds like it was designed around individual songs, not around an album format. What I mean – take a classic like “Dark Side of the Moon” or “Abbey Road.” Excellent albums, but not every song sounds great when it comes up on shuffle. They’re centered around an album format. Blues (and blues rock) is usually centered around songs, and nearly every track sounds like the band worked out the components that would make it unique. “Dunes” has a quick section where the band gives way to a dissonant pair of acoustic guitars. “Future People” has a synth-y drone in the background that would’ve sent John Lee Hooker to the hospital. Best track “Gimme All Your Love” sounds like an improved version of any song by any boring alt-jam band, occasionally bordering on near-silence. And then it picks up, suddenly, and unexpectedly. And “The Greatest” is a straight, worn punk track, one that sounds like it’s going to have a deceiving, disappointing red herring intro but doesn’t, keeping the energy up for nearly four minutes.

Every member of Alabama Shakes is clearly exceptional. Howard’s voice goes from low and subdued to high and shrieking at any turn. Zac Cockrell’s bass bumps the band through the whole album, more audible than on most rock releases. Heath Fogg’s and Howard’s guitars drive funky, usually melodic but occasionally dissonant rhythms. And Steve Johnson’s drums keep the rhythms afloat, expanding the band’s whole sound. The band occasionally works in group vocals, and sometimes not. Sometimes, they sound like a collective, sometimes they’re supporting one member. But always, they’re laid back and just enjoying what they’re doing. Without the band’s pure enjoyment of the music they’re making, half of the songs on “Sound and Color” would sound unoriginal, played out. But the band seems to understand that they’re playing some pretty hybrid genres, and they roll with it. “Sound and Color” probably isn’t going to be an album we’re looking back on in twenty years, but for an immediate time, it’s a hell of a ride.

If you like this, try: TV on the Radio, but as great as “Cookie Mountain” is, their follow-up “Dear Science” was even better.

-By Andrew McNally