On Again into Eyes, they take listeners down a fairly well-traveled musical road, but it's still an enjoyable journey.

The album has the kind of off-the-cuff, palpable sense of fun that happens when two old friends lay down tracks together.

Belladonna was welcomed back into the fold, and all the vocals were re-recorded. But to Anthrax's credit, it all fits together seamlessly, resulting in arguably their finest studio album since, well, the last one that Belladonna sang on!

Nick would benefit from getting his feathers a little ruffled -- just a smidgeon of the lean country-rock of The Impossible Bird would go a long way -- yet there's still plenty of charm in the old crooner.

The album stays firmly planted in the post-punk/synth pop wheelhouse, which means that it's incredibly consistent, but not necessarily surprising, which could be a good or bad thing for fans, depending on whether they prefer their debut or their sophomore album.

Daybreak is successful on two levels: in the way it touches on the best elements of Saves the Day's past works, it's a welcome entry point for new listeners; and with its freshness, it assures established fans that the band is still invigorated after going at it for over a decade.

For the Devil Wears Prada's fourth album, Dead Throne, the Christian metalcore six-piece is at its most technical and most brutal.

There's a soft-spoken power to Metals, even if its songs are more liquid and atmospheric than the title suggests.

If The World Is Just a Shape to Fill the Night came out in a year when it seemed like there were even more sensitive folkie records than ever before, it also succeeds more than most of its contemporaries by virtue of its differing reference points.

In addition to proving once and for all that Hughes can stand on his own as a rock & roller, Honkey Kong meets the main requirement of all of the previous albums Hughes has appeared on. It's a rockin' good time.

Sweeter benefits from greater textures in his surroundings, stronger hooks in the melodies, and, for once, a sensibility that doesn't sacrifice the present for the sake of paying respect to the past.

Major/Minor will go down as another solid, if unspectacular, Thrice release.

Celebrity musical pairings rarely lead to innovation or excitement, but Duets II is an enjoyable celebration of what Tony Bennett has meant to pop music, and what he can bring out in any star vocalist he steps up to the microphone with.

Throughout it all, Rimes hits her marks with ease, and the new version of her breakthrough hit "Blue" illustrates just how far she's come--how she's become a stronger, more nuanced singer over the years.

A hypnotic, wickedly sexy bit of folk-funk delivered at the tempo of a rambling, acid-soaked desert caravan, the track--as with the rest of Minnesota--leaves you pondering Jennings' poetic intent like a dark mirage spied in the late summer sun.

The end effect is ultimately liberating, letting Nurses explore something more than the late-2000s indie cul-de-sac they'd found themselves in previously.

Seasons on Earth is a poetic, thoroughly engaging set from a now-mature songwriter, whose confidence in her musical language is as poetic as it is authoritative.

As with their other work, In Heaven is intriguing but not completely satisfying, but that intrigue is tantalizing enough to keep listeners guessing.

Dee Dee had to change, the change was good, and it led to a fine, grown-up guitar pop record.

They've managed an interesting blend of that style with the free-form structures of film soundtracking, the results of which are intriguing although rarely crucial.

Sweetheart of the Sun is a remarkably good record that comes long after anyone may have expected the Bangles to do anything much at all.

So judge not, indie rockers and other self-satisfied musical tribes: any way you slice it, the aging rock audience is hungry and, flawed as they may be, Chickenfoot are just the guys to feed them.

Zig Zaj sounds more like a rehash than the entirely new recipe that music fans are undoubtedly looking for.

Since he's operating on a small scale, none of this soars or rocks--the way In Reverse or Girlfriend did, respectively--yet the charm of Modern Art is its intimacy.

If summery and slick, no-frills pop-punk is what you crave, look no further.

Despite having many strong songs and a more focused approach, the Duke Spirit's third album is also their most uneven.

The only downside to the album is that the songs begin to blend together a little by the end, but in a comfortably warm way instead of a boring, take-the-record-off-now kind of way.

The melodies remain fuzzily in focus, so Ashes & Fire winds up as ever-shifting mood music, sustaining an appealingly lazy haze residing somewhere south of melancholy.

Beauty Queen Sister showcases the Indigo Girls in top traditional form; their audience will no doubt delight in this, especially because the songs are expertly crafted and, as usual, intimate and honest to the point of discomfort.

While nobody expects cohesiveness from these guys, Monkeytown is at least commendably concise--their leanest and tightest offering yet.

He's proceeding at the pace of a 74-year-old legend with nothing to prove, yet he's not resting on his laurels, he's just doing what he's always done: singing songs so expertly his virtuosity almost goes unnoticed.

People and Things might not be as accessible as Everything in Transit, which contained some of the brightest pop songs of McMahon's career, but it's stronger than The Glass Passenger, indicating that McMahon has begun to move onward and upward.

There's a cohesiveness issue that keeps this one off their top shelf, but Erasure have settled nicely into that groove that the best veteran bands often do.

Wolfroy... is all about lonesome beauty, and the idiosyncratic wordplay that has become Oldham's forte.

Mute Math sound most natural when they let loose as a funk rock/alt-rock hybrid that closely resembles a heavy version of Tahiti 80. As rough as that translates on paper, this form of music totally works for them and pops up in more than a few of their best songs, including "Cavalries," "One More," and "Walking Paranoia."

The only problem with Freaking Out is that it's so short!

It's aural candy for aging goths and tortured tweens alike.

In a way, this is overkill indeed--over 100 minutes of remixes for a 40-minute album. However, it's also fascinating to hear how this current crop of producers--spanning abstract hip-hop, house, dubstep, bass music, and experimental techno, all selected by Thom Yorke--twists, bends, adjusts, and appropriates the source material.

Joined by an impressive who's-who of traditional British folk, its eclectic array of songs, spanning from the 17th century (Scottish ballad "Barbry Allen") right up to the mid-'90s (Bruce Springsteen's The Ghost of Tom Joad outtake, "Brothers Under the Bridge"), ensures that it's no ordinary covers album.

New Blood isn't always as astonishing but that's fine.

Even when just kidding around, Shatner proves himself to be an exacting master of his craft, and more than a few times on Seeking Major Tom the joke is clearly on us.

Deeper into Dream is, ironically, far more captivating when it appears to want to send listeners to sleep.

Cattle Core may well have a future as a metal subgenre, but Hank3 may want to shoot for an EP or a single next time rather than filling up a whole CD as he does on Cattle Callin.

While most film trilogies adhere to the law of diminishing returns, World War III's clever storytelling and unexpected shifts in sound show that Madina Lake have wisely saved the best till last.

Adhering to such a limited arsenal can sometimes feel like the material was cut with a full band, then mixed down to just guitars and vocals, but Underwood and Costelloe manage to fill in the empty spaces with sheer charm.

It makes you wish the two talented guys behind the record would chuck their day jobs and just keep making records this good together instead.

Tarwater's continual evolution into something other than what it was before, however subtle each individual step might be, proceeds as ever on 2011's Inside the Ships, the group's 11th full-length.

These quintessential Rifles offerings may appease those deterred by the album's unexpected wistful nature, but Freedom Run's inherent charm has the potential to elevate the band into the big league, regardless of how many longterm fans stay on board or jump ship.

The Suicide-meets-Can growl that opens "Green and Blue," for instance, may be a familiar element in other revivals, but Cronin puts enough of a hooky spin on the feedback rampage to help make it stand out as the album's first down-the-line success.

An affable shrug of an album, it's fine, but that's not necessarily OK.

Instead of re-creating sounds, they've recaptured the vibe, which is enough to keep The Great Escape Artist absorbing even when it begins to drift.

Revelation Road is the quietest record of Lynne's career, but it feels like her rawest, too, even as it offers, in small bits and pieces, the varying shades, complexities, and pleasures in her musical world.

Like any good album for the information age, Soul Punk is overloaded well past the point of saturation and its merciless in its attack, so it can be a bit overbearing, yet there's a real, vivid imagination behind its crystalline clamor.

While the album can, at times, feel unfocused, that's also the point of a project like Puscifer, which allows us to take a look inside the mind of one of the most creative frontmen of the last 20 years.

A playful, thoughtful, catchy-as-hell pop record.

They've embraced their schoolboy selves and are simply singing songs of love and good cheer, albeit on a grand scale that somehow seems smaller due to the group's insuppressible niceness.

The songwriting is more disciplined, and the arrangements and production are tighter. Together they create a seamless but welcome change in aesthetic direction.

Beyond the Sun plays it cool and plays it authentic--these aren't reinterpretations, but sincere homages--and if this doesn't have much grit, it has plenty of style and heart.

It's certainly accomplished and self-assured, and at its best the results are truly impressive.

While Astro Coast's nostalgia is missed, Tarot Classics finds Surfer Blood showing more potential to create something unique than their debut suggested.

This is a record designed to be listened to in isolation, preferably through a massive pair of high-quality headphones rather than in the mass communal surroundings of a club.

In the increasingly prevalent spirit of similar trans-cultural musical interminglings in recent years, what we get never feels carefully curated, explicated, or tamed but rather refreshingly, bewilderingly alive -- an explosive flurry of rhythms, sounds, and voices.

A chronological ordering gives a sense to the band's progress, a definite perk, but the big payoff with Tape Club is that it offers a chance to see through to the heart of SSLYBY's songs and realize how charming they can be without the big-league production.

Their loosest, wildest, and most honest collection of Saturday night/Sunday morning pining/drinking songs to date.

Much of the aptly named Th1rt3en feels vintage, from the familiar political themes on "We the People" and the tightly wound, Dio-esque riffing on "Public Enemy No. 1" to the soft, melodramatic military snare intro of "Never Dead," which eventually explodes into a wicked blast of retro-thrash that feels positively invigorating, not redundant.

While Best Intentions doesn't reinvent the wheel, listeners will enjoy spending some more time with We Are the In Crowd.

Despite these interesting diversions, Exits & All the Rest is just a bit too straightforward to gain the plaudits of the more experimental Warpaint, but it's still a vibrant record that cleverly recaptures the spirit of their influences while remaining quintessentially Girl in a Coma.

Even if Crazy Clown Time isn't as accessible as some of the collaborations that arrived shortly before the album, Lynch fans will appreciate it as another example of his ability to put his unmistakable stamp on every art form he attempts.

A notion that acts as the foundation for the eight cuts on the hypnotic but illuminating Humor Risk.

Viers' simple, honest delivery helps to keep the mood fun, yet stable and sweet, without the inevitable sugar rush.

The Dreamer is a fitting--if not perfect--bookend to one of American popular music's most iconic lives.

The most notable thing about The Twilight Saga: Breaking Dawn, Pt. 1 is its unabashed romanticism, and the album more than serves its purpose as a Twilight-branded wedding playlist.

Kinsella's tried-and-true delicately delivered cynicism combined with a new approach to instrumentation is refreshing after all these years.

Nickelback's seventh studio album arrives nearly three years after their multi-platinum-selling, 2008 release Dark Horse.

While its parts don't quite come together in a way that rivals IRM, Stage Whisper is a welcome adjunct that celebrates Gainsbourg's skills in the studio and in front of an audience.

The connection between the album's title and its contents remains a question mark, but it's befitting of this surprising, deeply inspired debut.

Perhaps he could stand to have some knockout singles and perhaps he's a little too comfortable giving the people what they want, but Nichols is always reliable, always likable, and this album is definitely all good.

Snow Patrol still have the potential to hit the sweet spot between U2's stadium baiting, Coldplay's icy elegance, and Elbow's art school-infused, north country soul.

The whole of Impossible Spaces holds together as a strong listen, but in many ways it's the individual moments that stand out above all else.

An intriguing sonic experience from start to finish, Severant is a bold left-field first offering from an artist who's quickly establishing himself as the intelligent dance scene's "one to watch."

An even rougher, uglier, and just plain heavier Hull.

Musically and sonically it's well above average, even if there are three generic cuts in the middle that keep it from rising to the next level.

While Geronimo! is sometimes a little too playful for its own good, it's still a refreshingly unpretentious and affectionate display of nostalgic retro-pop.

The self-titled conclusion serves as a gentle, appropriate valediction.

It's his most downtempo effort, and all that much more soothing and captivating.

There aren't quite as many standout tracks this time around, but there are no real low points to speak of, and there's plenty to enjoy, especially from a beat programming standpoint -- or, even more especially, from the center of a crowded, sweat-soaked dancefloor.

Freeclouds has a little more up its sleeve than either a clear break from Tanton's past or a simple extension of it.

Behind Good Girl Gone Bad and Rated R, this is Rihanna's third best album to date. Minus the fluff, it's close to the latter's equal.

Often, Break the Spell harks back to the glory days of the late '80s, when rockers played golden gods all for the sake of video cameras, secure in the knowledge that heavy rotation on MTV and AOR radio would shift millions of CDs.

Despite a heavy focus on repetition and a stripped-down sound, Neverendless is seldom predictable, showing the talents of a group who know that sometimes less is more.

Machine Head is still a force in modern heavy metal.

There's no reason why its quietly enchanting qualities can't go on to provide her with the breakthrough outside Scandinavia that she deserves.

While it would be an exaggeration to call his music a parody, he often seems to have his tongue in his cheek.

Stereo Typical's good-natured swagger marks Rizzle Kicks out as one of the British urban scene's most entertaining new talents.

With such an ambitiously unconventional approach, it's quite an achievement that Ilo Veyou contains far more hits than misses.

While Let the Poison Out cleans up their sound a bit, it doesn't sacrifice the laid-back, chirpy, quirkiness that listeners have grown to love.

Little Red Boots is for the most part a triumphant means of overcoming trouble by singing about it.

Ryder-Jones deserves to make the leap from imaginary films to the real thing.