The most disappointing music releases of 2018

While some found Muse's 2015 effort "Drones" perhaps a wee bit too explicit in terms of its political subject matter, many were able to power through due to the propulsion of the rock songs contained within. For the reality-questioning "Simulation Theory," the band leans back into its pop instincts a little bit, covering every song in a synth-heavy '80s neon-sheen. The resulting album comes off as a bit monochromatic, with serviceable songs but none of that wit or visceral impact that we've come to expect from the U.K. hard rockers.

When you've been in the country-pop game for as long as Carrie Underwood has, you can't blame her for not wanting to write the same material over and over again. However, "Cry Pretty," while noble with intent, nonetheless sugarcoats a lot of the issues plaguing our nation today. "Love Wins" and "The Bullet" tackle gun violence with choruses that feel way too joyous to effectively work with the subject matter, making for a set of slick pop that tries to say something profound but fails to give the songs the kind of gravity that's required to really be impactful.

Courtney Barnett's stellar debut album "Sometimes I Sit and Think, and Sometimes I Just Sit" showcased a hot new Aussie talent on the rise. Her songs were observant and witty, her guitar hooks tight and focused, and it was all wrapped up in an attitude that was fully intact from the get-go. "Tell Me How You Really Feel," despite the hype, ended up sounding like a watered-down version of her debut. The arrangements weren't as adventurous, the lyrics were a bit more generic, and the whole thing felt like she was trying to make a more "mainstream" version of herself when there really wasn't a need to. Maybe the whole thing can be chalked up to one of her song titles: "Crippling Self-Doubt and a General Lack of Confidence."

Say what you will about the quality of the Eminem/Machine Gun Kelly rap beef, but it was undeniably entertaining — as most rap beefs should be. Machine Gun Kelly's diss track "Rap Devil" is an extremely concise takedown of Eminem's whole aesthetic, and even people who had dismissed Kelly previously were taking a second look at the heavily tattooed rapper. Hype of his album "Binge" suddenly became palpable, but once it finally dropped, everyone dismissed Kelly all over again. The songs were indulgent and introverted; moody and meandering. He seemed to think he could be a one-man Death Grips, but all he ended up proving was that his well-executed "Rap Devil" was nothing more than a fluke.

For Kylie Minogue's 13th album (well, 14th if you count her holiday collection from 2015), the British pop diva wanted to mix her sound a bit, so she aimed for something a bit more country-minded. Of course, this remains a Kylie Minogue album, so this "style change" basically meant that all of her dance-pop was now anchored in acoustic guitars, ending up with songs that basically sounded like a modern take on peak-era ABBA. There's nothing inherently wrong with that, but some fans definitely felt they were sold a bill of goods here, leaving "Golden" a far cry from recent standout efforts like "X" and "Aphrodite."

In 2018, Kanye figured that he'd try taking the saying "there's no press like bad press" to its absolute limit, embracing President Donald Trump's message to its extreme and getting a personal meeting with him in the Oval Office while shouting out nonsense like slavery is "a choice" during his visits to the likes of TMZ. All of this helped draw attention to his consecutive weeks of releases that he had a production hand in, ranging from the excellent (his Kids See Ghosts side project with Kid Cudi) to the surprising (a new album from Pusha T) to..."Ye." Although this short seven-song effort has occasional glimpses of Kanye of old and some have embraced it as a strong statement about dealing with mental illness in the modern era, most people forgot about it shortly after its release for being a jumbled, confused mess not too unlike his controversial 2016 effort "The Life of Pablo."

After a too-long hiatus, Damon Albarn's animated group Gorillaz finally returned in 2017 with "Humanz," and the result was...fine. It was a serviceable effort, showing evolution but failing to satisfy in the way the band's early hits did with its cut-and-paste genre aesthetics. A mere 14 months after "Humanz" hit, fans were treated with a new album in form of "The Now Now." Although more immediately accessible than "Humanz," "The Now Now" still felt like Albarn was phoning it in as a songwriter, keeping the choruses and verses pretty straightforward while playing around with a sense of optimism that "Humanz" was deliberately missing. There are some genuine takeaways here ("Souk Eye" chief among them), but by and large, the more albums Gorillaz puts out at this point, the more the band is diluting its legacy.

Babs has retained a passionate fan base for decades, but for most of the 2000s, she's done so by putting out a near endless supply of covers records. Occasional original releases will slip in, but they all trade in the kind of adult contemporary pop that has become her bread and butter. With "Walls," Streisand has decided to craft a pointed political statement aimed at confronting the many lies of the Trump administration. While Streisand definitely sounds invested in the material as the tempos occasionally (shockingly?) move above mid-temp pablum, she, unfortunately, doesn't have a lot of insight to share with the world. But what is the effect of pointing out presidential lies? Her voice remains in fine form, and some covers (like "What the World Needs Now") are lovely. But overall, Streisand's passion project does little more than end up preaching to the choir.

While the album's prerelease hype indicated that Timberlake was going to perhaps go a little rootsy with his fifth album, "Man of the Woods," the end result proved to be far worse than anyone could've imagined: a Pharrell-induced fever dream of disparate pop styles that couldn't feel more out of place in 2018. From the failed gondola-trap experiment of "Supplies" to the hokey title track, to a protest anthem with Chris Stapleton called "Say Something" that fails to say anything important, Timberlake has never sounded more out of touch with the cultural zeitgeist than he did here. And when coupled with an equally panned Super Bowl halftime show, it meant that everyone's favorite boy band survivor exited 2018 with less creative capital than when he entered it.

The criticism against Nicki Minaj's studio efforts has been pretty constant: She's much more of a singles artist than she is an album's artist. But even with that in mind, the days of "mixtape/Monster" Nicki have long since passed. How great it was, then, to have her new album, "Queen," arrive with the fantastic new song "Barbie Dreams," where she copped a move from Notorious B.I.G. and made fun of the other rappers right then and there. Mixed with the stellar lead track, "Ganja Burns," it seemed like Nicki was fully coming into her own, but the disappointing Ariana collaboration "Bed," her disappointing Lil' Wayne collaboration "Rich Sex" and, heck, the rest of the album failed to live up to the promise of Nicki getting back to her roots. It was an OK effort, but it could've been a genuine triumph.

Paul McCartney is Paul McCartney, so he has full permission to do whatever he wants artistically. However, the last few years have shown that McCartney really, really wants to have a hit. Outside of his charting Kanye West collaborations, his last set, 2013's "New," brought in Adele producer Paul Epworth and hitmaker Mark Ronson to try and put him back on the radio — it didn't work. Neither does "Egypt Station," a full-length collaboration with Sia/Beck/Kelly Clarkson go-to Greg Kurstin. The sentiments range from generic (guess what the chorus to "People Want Peace" says) to downright horny (the unfortunate "Fuh You"). And while the production is undeniably colorful, "Top 40" McCartney rarely makes peace with "musical genius" McCartney, and that's no more evident than right here.

To help celebrate the five decades of collaboration between Elton John and lyricist Bernie Taupin, two separate covers sets were ordered: one by John and one by Taupin. Bernie's, titled "Restoration," had contemporary country greats like Maren Morris, Chris Stapleton and Kacey Musgraves giving their own spins on a classic John/Taupin number, often to revisionist success. John's more pop-minded effort, "Revamp," gets about as much wrong as humanly possible. Logic rapping over a trap remix of "Bennie and the Jets?" Ed Sheeran schmoozing his way through "Candle in the Wind?" The Killers going all ballad-y again on "Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters?" Only Florence + The Machine come out unscathed from this misguided effort.

The hip-hop sentiment has prevailed for years: Nas is a great rapper and has a terrible taste in beats. When Kanye West announced he'd be the producer on a new Nas effort, tongues immediately started wagging: Maybe Nas could finally reclaim the hip-hop throne he was meant to inherit since his classic debut. Unfortunately, "Nasir" shows that Nas really didn't bring his A-game to the studio, giving slightly above-average Kanye beats the same kind of drab, uninteresting rhymes and stories that have weighed down most of his post-2000s career. He even cheers Kanye's production by name during "White Label," proving that he knew the narrative around him but didn't do anything to buck it.

Although billed as an Animal Collective album proper, "Tangerine Reef" is really more of a soundtrack to a series of undersea visuals created by Coral Morphologic. The resulting album is beatless, formless and leans onto the worst kind of impulses one associates with ambient soundtrack music. Avey Tare's vocals do pop up on occasion, but the effect is moot. This won't go down as anyone's favorite Animal Collective record — just a largely forgettable curiosity.

Following the career-high efforts of Beyoncé's "Lemonade" and Jay-Z's "4:44," a new, surprise collaborative album between the most powerful couple in pop music seems like an event that should've been seismic in scope and impact. The resulting album between The Carters, "Everything is Love," instead leans into each other's worse tendencies: Jay-Z's penchant for braggadocio and Beyoncé's attempts at rapping. We've heard Bey spit some good verses before, but over the course of a whole album? Bragging about not putting her album on Spotify instead of the two really taking time to reconcile the artistic statements they both issued regarding Jay's philandering? A bloated, wasted opportunity.

When you've been in the game as long as Dave Grohl has, you really can't blame the guy for wanting to break out of his genre confines every now and then. With "Play," the drummer/guitarist/singer/filmmaker moves away from Foo Fighters' typical brand of hard rock ear candy to focus on something groovier and proggier than anything he's done before. That's all fine and good. But to have this new effort clock in a dry 22 minutes without really saying much of anything new? He can simply be commended for wanting to try something different even if you don't particularly want to listen to it again.

The Arctic Monkeys have long been a staple of the U.K. rock scene, but it wasn't until their 2013 effort "AM" that they really start making inroads in the U.S., with songs like "Do I Wanna Know?" and "Why'd You Only Call Me When You're High" becoming radio staples in sharp order. Alex Turner and friends really took their time to craft their follow-up, and the end result was...a spacey lounge effort with Bowie affectations? While you never want a band to repeat themselves artistically, this alienating left turn certainly ate up a good share of the band's artistic capital, leaving fans cold.

Interpol's 2002 debut album was a stone-cold classic, while the sophomore effort, "Antics," was no slouch either when it came to post-punk appreciation. Since then, the group has basically been doing the same formula, resulting in "Marauder," its sixth album, first in four years, and one that sure sounds a lot like what you expect a 2010s Interpol album to sound like. They deliver their sound consistently, but the returns continue to diminish.

As time has pressed on, Mark Kozelek's songwriting has become increasingly literal. Like, uncomfortably literal. Not confessional, mind you. He's minded his personal life and interests for material before to great success on the still-great Red House Painters and early Sun Kil Moon records. Now he's simply writing about literally being on tour. On eating dinner. On sleeping with girls who have angry boyfriends. "I'm pretty sure the movie "Trolls" was filmed in that area, from what I can remember," is a terrible lyric and it is on this album. Kind of says everything you need to know, doesn't it?

Christina Aguilera's sixth proper studio effort was also her first in six years, and it was slated to be a big comeback. It included a lead single produced by Kanye West, a duet with Demi Lovato and even a few songwriting assists by contemporary soul great Anderson Paak. The end result? Another bland slab of generic diva pop that only occasionally rises to meet expectations. There was a time when Aguilera had a great, infectious and sometimes defiant personality. Nowadays, she lets her producers tell her what to do, and the end result is a record that could've been released by just about any starlet. It was a rough fall from grace, and that fall only continues here.

Man, what happened to you, Fall Out Boy? After the quite successful return from the grave that was 2013's "Save Rock and Roll," you've become increasingly serious, tossing out the occasional moment of levity with songs like "Uma Thurman." But by and large it's been straightforward soundtrack rock, losing a lot of the spark and humor that made you guys superstars to begin with. When "Young and Menace" hit us with those heavy electronic post-chorus drum breaks, it was clear that the band we once loved has gone on a different path — one that means you won't be coming home anytime soon.

As artists, sometimes the best breakthroughs occur when you're given boundaries. Jack White understood this, which is why during his time with The White Stripes, he would impose rules like "no solos" or "as little electric guitar as possible" across whole albums. His solo LPs have been mixed bags yet largely satisfying — but with "Boarding House Reach," he has tasked himself with getting as weird as possible. Jazzy piano interludes sneaking into your rock songs? '70s funk keyboards? Off-kilter and off-key background vocals mic'd as loud as Jack's lead? It's all here, and it's an ambitious, confusing mess. There's a lot to appreciate on this album but surprisingly little to actually enjoy.

So much for going double platinum with no features. J. Cole has done an incredible job building up an empire of his own design with his Dreamville label and his own production efforts. And while the surprise release of "KOD" delighted many, the resulting release, after people spent time with it, proved to be a far cry from classic records like "2014 Forest Hills Drive" or "Born Sinner." His production was surprisingly stilted, repetitive and unimaginative in a way that most of his records are not, leaving him to spit bars about fame and addiction in a surprisingly bland manner. Sparks were certainly there — it's clever how the beat of "Motiv8" harkens back to Too $hort's "Freaky Tales" — but by and large, this was a lesser album in J. Cole's already-impressive discography. Remember: Once you set the bar that high, you're expected to clear it every time.

MGMT's debut album made them indie-pop superstars — something that happened so fast that they came to resent it. After the utterly bizarre sophomore effort, each release since then has been an anticipated hope that they are back and ready to rock again. But each time we're left disappointed. "Little Dark Age" is no different, because despite some really clever marketing ploys (check out the history behind the release of the "cover song" that is "Me and Michael" when you get a moment), the resulting album was...just another MGMT album at this point. Perhaps it's unfair to hold them to the incredible standard that debut album "Oracular Spectacular" set, but they have moved from promising wonderkids to alternative rock has-beens due to their own choices, and it appears that's the rut they're going to be stuck in for some time.