Highly recommended to fans of smart jazz that remembers to entertain.

Dre's short, spoken bits end up the only speed bumps during all these twists and turns, and when you're complaining about interludes instead of the overall attitude of a Game album, you've got an obsession-free, almost relatable success that sacrifices none of the man's fire or skill.

The Blackbird Diaries isn't for everyone: it's mainstream but not sterile; it celebrates roots music without overly indulging it or neglecting pop; in short, it's catchy as hell and better than any Stewart solo project to date.

lthough the arrangements and material are monochromatic, What Matters Most isn't a failure by any means, thanks to Barbra Streisand's interpretive skills (as well as her flair for drama and her ever-beautiful voice). That said, this is not a record for those who love precocious Streisand best (Funny Girl, Hello, Dolly!).

The decision to vary the speaking participants helps distinguish each piece, and gives the album just the hint of variety it needs.

For anyone interested in underground music from the later '60s through the mid-'70s, Love Has Made Me Stronger is recommended listening.

This is a band album, and a solid one at that.

Songs and Stories suggests he's coasting just a bit, and though he's still one of the true legends of the Texas songwriting community, this simply doesn't capture him at the top of his game.

Even after a decade away, Atari Teenage Riot are still equally angry and entertaining, and Is This Hyperreal? just may be one of their definitive statements.

If the basic balance remains unchanged, the result has been a sound just enough of the War on Drugs' own as a result, which gets stronger and even more droned out and powerful as the album continues.

The result is rich and exciting without becoming overwhelming; it's loaded with charm as well as fine tunes, and that combination makes it a delight that's well worth hearing.

An audacious spectacle of vacuous pomposity as well as one of tremendous lyrical depth, Watch the Throne is a densely packed amalgamation of what Jay-Z has termed "ignorant shit" and "thought-provoking shit," with creative productions that are both top of the line and supremely baffling.

It's hard not to wish Fool's Gold had figured out how to develop and expand their approach without compromising so much of what made their debut so delightfully unique.

The problem with Jeff Bridges is, it sounds like he's trying hard to be cool, and that's all down to T-Bone Burnett, who dampens everything natural about this music with the artificially authentic.

While the sound is by no means stale, it doesn't have the same edge that the band became known for during their heyday, at times feeling more like an extension of Hey Mercedes than a proper Braid release.

It's filled with memorable, exceptionally played and produced electronic pop songs that are off-center yet targeted squarely at the heart.

Rather than being a simple throwback band, they add their own twist by way of a dark, vaguely ominous tone.

Throughout the album the sense is of rough experimentation, a kind of direct curiosity in the collision of sampled loops, echoed vocals, bursting bass, and random moments. Stallone's echoed vocals, however much a stylistic commonality in some corners, act as further random hooks, a slightly stupefied but never incoherent series of reactions.

Pitched somewhere between synthed-up '80s mood-out and electronic-infused shoegaze, the Swedish duo I Break Horses may have a slightly off-kilter name, but Hearts is a fine, if often derivative, debut album, a classic instance of a band knowing who and what they love, but not to the point of making it their own.

2011 is a year for strong albums in general, and You Are All I See deserves to be ranked among the best.

Covering such a cherished and well-respected body of work is a brave move, and while Gilmore was always going to struggle to make these iconic songs her own, John Wesley Harding is a valiant attempt to respectfully add a slightly modern sheen to the 40-year-old record, which should silence any Dylan aficionados waiting to cry foul.

Felice is bedeviled by an unspecified sadness and longing, and that only adds to the resonance of well-constructed songs that will appeal to triple-A radio in the U.S., now that his band finally has gotten a purchase on its homeground.

As songs, these are not outright disasters -- they're not bad evocations of post-Riot funk -- but they're saddled with the same awful production that hobbles the re-creations, the same sticky, tacky, desperate replication of the past that only underscores just how long ago Sly's golden years were.

Musically, the results are a brighter, tighter, yet more elaborate version of the man's best work, with tracks like "Security" and "Merry Go Round" sounding both flashy and meaty at once.

All in all, a noteworthy release that reveals more layers the longer you listen.

It's a little much to call it Steely Dan in terms of contrast but there's something not too far removed going on.

Without many radio-worthy cuts and both Shawty Redd and Drumma Boy going through their B-list of beats, Ferrari Boyz isn't impactful enough to make it past the already converted, but that "street release" tag should have already given that up.

The Flood, despite all of its familiar trappings, manages to breathe (as in forcibly inflate) some new life into the genre.

Those of centrist or conservative political persuasions may decide this is a socialist document. Let them. For Morello and others, this recording claims songs from organized labor history, which are more relevant now than ever; he includes his own contributions to it as well.

Chelsea Grin aren't pushing the boundaries of the genre into any bold new territories, but what they do deliver is a very solid collection of face-smashing songs that will provide plenty of fuel for the mosh pit carnage that's sure to arise after repeated listenings of My Damnation.

The songs on Ruining It for Everybody don't feel slapped together, and despite the fact that they don't seem like they should work, the band pulls off their sound well. Add the album's concise running time to the mix and you have an album that works like Ritalin for anyone with a serious case of heavy metal ADD.

However understated the band aesthetic may seem on Sympathy, Scattered Trees nonetheless have a nice group spark on record that only benefits from Eiesland's own specific vision.

He's not flashy yet he's not boring, he's laid-back and assured, a modern guy who knows his roots but is happy to be in the present, and it's hard not to smile along with the guy as he sings.

"Lawns" provides an easygoing contrast in turn, keeping the general propulsion of the album going but feeling like an easy swing into a West Coast sunset instead of launching a rocket to the moon.

This is suburban middle-aged music dressed up as something younger, something more exotic, something far more street-wise and interesting than it actually is.

Dir en Grey are a band in their own genre at this point, and Dum Spiro Spero is the farthest-reaching testament to establish that as fact more than opinion.

Marble Son is still dominated by elegant, wistful songs that sound like they were conceived on a mountaintop and set adrift to float in a cloudless sky, dipping down just long enough for listeners to get an earful of the airy delights they offer.

This isn't ugly visceral music; it's castrated rock with a rotten heart.

Oh Land's international debut is an eclectic, nocturnal mix of club music, dance, and electro-pop.

As an EP, Middle States is an interesting paradox, presenting a collection of songs that are simultaneously concise and exploratory, expanding their sound without meandering, and managing to do it all without feeling overly restrained.

Song after song whips by, wedding equal doses of neo-thrash aggression and accessibility, represented by frontman Matt Heafy's alternating clean and gruff vocals as well as his and fellow guitarist Corey Beaulieu's jagged staccato riffs and tight-knit harmonies.

Rather than simply target kids of today, Barenaked Ladies have crafted a children's pop album inspired by their own '70s/'80s childhoods.

Regardless of where they end up next, the Horrors have already traveled much further than most listeners would have imagined.

Listeners will hear the echoes of the better-known recordings of these songs, even if Souther's own performances of them sound like they may have set the template for Ronstadt or the Eagles to embroider on.

Texture is ultimately the dominant force on the album, no matter the volume or source, and hearing how the possibilities are explored song for song within the context of contemplation and hunkering down against a kind of impending threat can be very rewarding.

The ambient stuff is nice, too -- different than what Fruit Bats fans are used to, perhaps, but proof that Johnson knows how to stretch his legs without losing his balance.

Dirty Jeans and Mudslide Hymns shows that John Hiatt is well served by a more hands-on production, though one might also imagine Kevin Shirley isn't necessarily the best person to do the job.

Chris Collingwood and Adam Schlesinger's specialty as songwriters has always been turning a trope inside out, finding ways to freshen or invert convention, and while they haven't lost that knack, the directness of Sky Full of Holes turns their tunes into something approaching standard-issue.

Proud to Be Here adds to Adkins' well-deserved reputation as a stylist and an artist who stands apart.

The Mosaic Project is not recommended to jazz purists, but for those who like their jazz laced with big doses of R&B, there is much to savor on this risk-taking album.

With Two of Everything, Brian Olive is two for two in making smart, distinctive albums that push his blues and R&B influences in unexpected, compelling directions, matching and building on the strength of his debut.

The original mixtape is worth checking for the Sweatshirt bits alone, but this version does a better job of putting the spotlight on Mellowhype, the Odd Future crew's secret weapon.

What's Going On was Marvin Gaye's masterwork, the most perfect expression of an artist's hope, anger, and concern ever recorded.

Don't expect things to change much as the duo's edits are minimal beasts built from breakdowns and bridges, but if you're in the mindset, this is chopped post-disco heaven with Prince, electro, new wave, and all things '80s swirling in the clean mix.

The crossover material leaves the album sounding a little stiff, and "No Tomorrow" seems manufactured to the point of feeling artificial, but if Attack! Attack! were aiming for commercially viable pop-punk, they hit the nail on the head with this one.

If the band were merely backtracking from the more arranged and fleshed-out sound Cartwright gave them, this record could be seen as a retreat. Instead, it sounds like they needed to go back to Watson to root out demons and get back to basics; instead, it sounds like a charge.

Queen of the Minor Key is a reminder that this music at its best speaks to the wayward impulses of the human heart, and Eilen Jewell embodies that quiet, insistent voice as well as anyone making music in the 21st century.

Arguably Megadeth's strongest effort and a classic of early thrash, Peace Sells combines punkish political awareness with a dark, threatening, typically heavy metal world-view, preoccupied with evil, the occult, and the like.

If many of Pollard's post-GBV albums have suggested a man tossing out whatever tunes he came up with this week, Let It Beard is an ambitious, clearly focused attempt to create something out of the ordinary, and it succeeds well enough to feel like a game changer for Pollard and his partners.

Our Blood, with its tattered, frayed grace, reflects Buckner's compellingly listenable, weary yet stubborn poetic journey, for answers to questions -- both past and and present, elliptical and enormous --that lie just beyond his grasp.

Longtime fans will be pleased, and folks who only know Newman from his film scores will be startled at the depth of the man's body of work, even on a collection with a couple of (relative) ringers.

On Perfect Darkness, Fink sticks to the excellent template he developed around 2006, and in its best moments, the record offers sounds on par with anything off his previous two records: the same taut folky guitar, the same delicate grooves, and the same quiet, reserved vocals all rolled into one laconic, low-key package.

Its versatility is quite dazzling, making it one of the best records in the Romweber catalog.

The compilation was offered on CD in three-disc and one-disc sets. The latter is more like a sampler with no discernible method to the selection process, and those who take that option will miss out on the Clarke and Wilder mixes, as well as numerous highlights.

Once rumored to be a true Wu-Tang Clan release, Legendary Weapons arrived as another compilation of Wu whatnot, with affiliates and second-string producers running the show as core member GZA sits things out.

Not all music is obligated to provide happy, cheerful escapism; dark lyrics certainly have their place as well, and dark lyrics are the rule on And Hell Will Follow Me, which falls short of remarkable but is nonetheless a solid and inspired, if derivative, debut from A Pale Horse Named Death.

Despite the recycling, it's one of his most inventive and potent albums to date, full of aggression, euphoria, and hope--alongside the rage, indignation and bitterness--and powered by idealism, pride, honor, and some of his strongest jams yet.

The 33 cuts on this sprawling collection offer so many fine and unusual moments, Red Hot + Rio 2 is every bit as unique and groundbreaking, puzzling and dazzling, as its predecessor; only more so.

There's a pervasive sense of mutual affection and musical respect throughout this album that makes it a pleasure to listen to even in those moments when its other elements don't quite come together perfectly.

Though it is one long cut, Night Gallery is free of noodling or self indulgence; it proves that acid jam is alive and well in the hands of the right musicians.

If a new artist released an album as strong and well-crafted as Roses at the End of Time as their debut, they'd likely be hailed as a major new force on the contemporary singer/songwriter scene; just because it's the work of a seasoned veteran doesn't mean it's too late for Gilkyson to be celebrated as a talent deserving of a larger and wider recognition.

The rest of the record is filled with an invigorating amount of passion, noise, and power that impressively takes their roots and influences to a new place. Not bad for a debut album; it bodes very well for further endeavors.

While the Summer Set shed some of their emo-pop roots for Everything's Fine, the growth as songwriters and performers as well as potential for wider recognition shown on their sophomore effort is a worthy exchange.

Lonely Twin takes a sweetly woozy way through its length, at once enjoyable enough while still feeling like a recapitulation more than a way forward. Still, even with that caveat, it's pleasant enough listening.

This flirtation with mass appeal is interesting for those with even a bit of an indie-hop bent, and hearing Sole working with a less forgiving rulebook just makes the album's successes more massive.

For all the musical adventure and the growth it reflects, Arrows & Anchors is Fair to Midland's finest effort to date.

LP1 doesn't always achieve a balance between the two extremes, not to the extent Stone and Stewart desires, as some of the ballads are a little formless and some of the funk a little too restricted, while some of Joss' posturing is a little affected, but it has more moments that work than anything she's done since her actual debut in 2003.

Tara Nevins, a member of Donna the Buffalo, released her debut solo album, Mule to Ride, in 1999, and only in 2011, 12 years later, got around to her second, Wood and Stone. It's been worth the wait, however.

The Kickback is a cool, slick, and easy party for the most part, with the occasional ballad slowing things down a bit too much.

They are of interest as a curiosity, especially for pub rock fanatics, but Harlan County illustrates why Jim Ford never became a cult artist in his own right.

Dubstep's increasingly Americanized impact can be sensed in the bass wobbles of "Black Nails," while trance's long shadow in turn crops up in "Real Is a Feeling." Not to mention the title and feeling of "Trancegender"--but why not go all out, after all?

Although very eclectic taste is required to appreciate in full, this is clearly Rowland's brightest, most confident album yet.

This is music made with no audience in mind: it is strikingly personal, to the extent that it suggests that Carlton needs to get this soul-searching out of her system in order to move forward.

London is far more charming when he's given some space and sings, as he does very sweetly in the chorus of "Why Even Try," featuring Tegan & Sara's Sara Quin. Those moments are scant.

The bottom line is that some of the immediacy of her rockabilly jazz is lost once she goes for romance and seduction, but Mayhem is still a fresh, invigorating record that is worth picking up, no matter what your musical convictions are; it's that good.

On Again and Again, Brilliant Colors aren't doing anything radically different than their contemporaries with similar influences and a similar sound, but they do what they do with conviction and just enough weirdness to give them a leg up on the competition.

Big Talk may not have rock star sparkle, but it walks the walk when it comes to solidly entertaining songs.

Universal Pulse can be wearying even at its half-hour length.

Unfortunately, the lack of powerful hooks, either in the melodies or riffs, means that all that coloring is on a grayscale, keeping Time of My Life a muted black-and-white exercise in half-hearted soul-searching.

Despite Robbins being literally unable to sing, it's a better album than anyone had any right to expect.

It's this quality that makes the album not just an easy recommendation for listeners old and new, but one of their most fun, accessible, and solid albums since Factory Showroom.

In the Mountain in the Cloud is also the band's most cohesive album, suffering from none of the unevenness that crept into some of their earlier work.

As a whole, the sophomore album is inconsistent, but when being eccentric is such a large part of a group's appeal, this is to be expected. Notwithstanding a few weak moments, many tracks are potentially their best.

Free Time is not unlike Mondo Bizarro or Animal Boy; not exactly a late-career triumph, but evidence that the band can go through the paces with skill and commitment, and if this isn't likely to make anyone a convert, longtime fans won't walk away disappointed.

If Neon does anything, it proves that Young can manage this delicate balance all the while seeming like it's no trouble at all.

The swirl of sonic suggestions throughout the album ranges from Laurie Anderson to These New Puritans to Active Child to Planningtorock to Brian Eno and David Byrne's collaborations and much more besides, all tied up and presented as an immediate and incredibly enjoyable art pop album without apology, an increasingly distinct and unique prospect.

Yours Truly doesn't quite match the caliber of the albums in the Sublime discography, but it's a fairly enjoyable spin-off just the same.

The rest of the album is a little more stiff than it should have been, fault going to the antiseptic arrangements, rigid musicianship, and Johnson's wavering take on "Have Thine Own Way, Lord," which needs a lot more solemnity (or at least stability) to truly get its message across.