This is Bowie in his mode as a crowd-pleasing professional, playing with considerable charm and skill, offering no surprises but plenty of pleasure: it's not the first album that will come to mind when thinking of live Bowie, but as it's playing, it's hard to resist.

The RK has been making weirdly wonderful recordings for over 40 years, but this one, as lovely and angular as it is, is one the of the strangest. Yet, it’s also -- if you stick with it -- among their most enjoyable.

As an album, Orchestrion is as ambitious as "Secret Story and The Way Up," but it is no less brilliant. Here Metheny exceeds our expectations, and perhaps even his own.

It's no surprise that Downtown Church is a beautiful album, as Patty Griffin has been making beautiful albums since 1996, but here she's reaching for something deeper than she has on much her previous work, and the search that informed these 14 songs is compelling and joyous to hear, regardless of your religious convictions.

Boca Negra is the most sophisticated and improvisationally complex recording CUD has ever recorded, while easily being its most accessible.

Rather than showing the humble beginnings of an experimental band, this album highlights the fact that, even from the very beginning, they were the enigmatic and impossibly heavy group that they are today.

Ingle's ability to write a pop melody is promising, perhaps, yet it's too hampered by nasal vocals to make much of an impression, and the album’s short running time proves to be one of its biggest assets.

With this album, Major Stars show their talent as songwriters, creating a collection of songs that manages to rope you in with a solid rock foundation before attempting to blow your mind with fuzzed-out fretboard acrobatics, making the title a statement of purpose rather than empty posturing.

No Hope, No Future doesn’t always play to the band’s proven strengths, but it shows that Good Shoes are a thoroughly independent, even contrary band that's unafraid of change, even when it’s difficult.

While it seems they will probably never equal the majesty of their debut, Editors have dug themselves out of their artistic cul de sac at least long enough to plan their next move.

The Colossus finds Rjd2 back to doing what he did when he first began recording: simply curating excellent productions instead of wooing a new audience by creating expressly written songs or telling a story with his full-lengths.

Given Spoon's reputation for consistency, it's not a surprise that Transference is good. However, it manages to be good in surprising ways.

This is a dark, sparse, elegantly--and enjoyably--somewhat mopey, paradoxical album. It’s emotionally raw, but devoid of self-pity. It's charming in its sense of irony and self-awareness.

Just about all of the new tracks would make fine A-sides, though they all fall into place as part of a flowing album.

Even after ten years of navigating the new millennium's punk-emo scene, Motion City Soundtrack sound positively hungry. My Dinosaur Life is a sugar rush without the crash at the end, just the insatiable need to hear it all again.

Streamlined, confident, and cohesive, Behave Yourself finds Cold War Kids getting their groove back.

It’s a hell of a good time and it does what a great covers album should: the band never lets their deep, enduring love get in the way of inspiration or imagination.

It’s hardly a consistent listen, and sometimes the journey seems directionless, but the battle between spastic outbursts and atmospheric slosh keeps the listening experience as thrilling as it is challenging.

What any of this has to do with rodeos (although they come up in the lyrics) is anybody's guess; Dawn Landes is no cowgirl, but rather a quirky indie singer/songwriter with a light touch.

While all of Foster’s work is provocative, this proves the warmest, loveliest, and most beautifully articulated recording in her catalog.

Musically it’s the performances by Bridges that are the most arresting here.

You & Me makes sure his six-string gifts remain in the forefront of the listener's mind. And while the reigning mood of the album is one of warm, Southern California breezes and sun-splashed sojourns to the Pacific Ocean, other influences pop up along the way, particularly a fondness for British folk-rock.

Pizza Box is a long way from the punky bluegrass of the Bad Livers, and may be the best album Barnes has ever made.

Pictures is one of the rare albums that manages to hold tight to what is good about a band (in this case, energy and hooky songs), and add on new things (wider instrumentation, better arrangements) without compromising their strengths.

With Contra, Vampire Weekend make Auto-Tune and real live guitars, Mexican drinks, Jamaican riffs and Upper West Side strings belong together, and this exciting lack of boundaries offers more possibilities than anyone could have expected.

They resisted the temptation to knock out another collection of power pop and instead hibernated for a few years, eventually teaming up with Dave Fridmann--a former member of Mercury Rev best known for his production work with the Flaming Lips--with the intention of reinvention, resulting in the mildly bewildering Of the Blue Colour of the Sky.

There is charm to Starr’s tried and true: exciting it is not but it’s as comforting as an old friend who doesn’t change, he just stays the same.

It’s a wide, spacious, summer storm of a record that bounces around genres like an open-world RPG game, and while there may be only 12 locations you can fast-travel to, there is enough treasure in each to keep the adventurer occupied for a month of afternoons.

There are no wasted notes anywhere on July Flame, neither in Martine's production nor Veirs' tightly written (but still expressionistically poetic) compositions.

Rain on the City lacks the consistency of Johnston's masterpiece, "Can You Fly," or its follow-up, "This Perfect World," but unlike the albums that followed, this collection is a beautiful example of Johnston playing to his strengths and reminding us why he's one of the best and most singular American songwriters at work today.

The band are an almost classic example of one element working incredibly well and another almost tripping it up as it goes. What works is the group's collective ear for those previously mentioned sounds and styles, which the trio plays excellently throughout.

This leathery roots record contains music that bridges the gap between frail flesh and powerful spirit ruggedly, sensually, and honestly, making it a work of high art.

Everyone makes sample-based music these days, but very few people use found sounds and prefab musical snippets as creatively and thoughtfully as Blockhead does.

An album that thrives on sparse, tickling productions that are more about atmosphere than anything else.

Snooty taste makers and parents should avoid Animal at all costs, but with so many fun, “TiK ToK”-type tracks, the album has plenty for both brats and the bratty at heart.

Like all the other installments in the series, this one makes a nice addition to a hardcore supporter’s collection.

On Idol, McPhee always favored middle of the road over modern, and Unbroken returns her to that course, bringing her somewhere within the vicinity of Paula Cole (who co-writes the title track), Rachael Yamagata (who co-writes “Keep Drivin’”) and Mandy Moore’s stylized ‘70s throwback, flavored with the slightest traces of modern sounds, including a vague borrowing of Beyoncé phrasing.

This might be enjoyed by folks who are really into the Burzum albums Varg Vikernes made from his prison cell, but even Suicide fans will likely find Stigmata hard to get excited about.

Stronger with Each Tear is a very good Blige album, if not quite a classic.

There are some surprises on Mudvayne, like a surprisingly Slash-like guitar solo on "Closer" and the death metal intro to the Slipknot-esque "I Can't Wait," but too much of it is more of the same from the band and its genre.

This pimp from Shreveport sounds best when swaggering and rarely steps out of his comfort zone.

Don’t bother unless you can stand a healthy helping of sleaze, because this flashy party is for adult fan club members, the ones who don’t mind Wayne the show-off or Wayne the trashy smart-aleck.

All told, though, as we crawl to the end of this Year Of The Animal Collective, this release can certainly be said to have further elevated their status.

Keys never gets gritty, she remains reserved, never letting her singing or arrangements obscure the melodies or the classy veneer of the entire proceedings. All this determined detachment keeps The Element of Freedom from packing a primal, passionate punch, but there is charm in Alicia's enveloping, quiet cool.

It’s evident that hits--more specifically, appealing to younger listeners-- is the goal....Sex Therapy, however, enlists Snoop Dogg, Jay-Z, the Game, Kid Cudi, and Nicki “Stick shift the ding-a-ling” Minaj--not to mention Estelle and Jazmine Sullivan, both of whom contribute excellent background vocals on their respective appearances.

What saves it from being nothing but thirtysomething wish fulfillment is that this move toward goth-glam requires 30 Seconds to emphasize hooks and gives them aural variety, which doesn’t make them seem any more serious but does make them considerably more palatable.

Brown clumsily emphasizes womanizing and hedonism and balances it out with a couple clean and empty ballads. Out of this portion of the album, only a couple songs leave a lasting impression, and when they do, the silly things that come out of Brown’s mouth tend to be the reason.

There’s plenty of dazzling wordplay related to coke dealing and showing off, but the album carries a more redemptive tone and a higher level of self-awareness.

The album serves as a reminder of the flexibility and resilience that have allowed Snoop Dogg to remain an enduring figure in hip-hop.

Some of the songs do gain a degree of poignancy in this bare-bones setting, which doesn’t make them better, just different, and certainly worth hearing for those fans dedicated enough to care.

The whole thing sounds like it was made fairly quickly, as if Tim came up with a clever idea and proceeded to fill out the track with whatever came to mind first, rather than truly enhance it.

At the end of the day, The State vs. Radric Davis delivers the full spectrum of Gucci Mane, showing both the cash and yellow diamond-loving side, as well as his more reflective (or at least more self-aware) side.

Over half of the album's songs are filled with Robinson's bittersweet longing, brilliantly paired with some of Martin's most detailed, creative, and accessible production work.

Even on its mellower moments, the Bravery sound more excited about making music on this album than they have since their debut, making Stir the Blood a fine return to form.

He’s coasting here, no doubt about it, but no one can coast like he can

Allison may strongly resemble her idols here, but chalk that up to youth and it doesn’t prevent her from conveying considerable charisma.

The bedroom numbers like “Make U Feel Alright” with Kango Slim work just as well, balancing polish and pimp attitude with skill, and while the social commentary found on Reality Check is missed, there’s the overall feeling that Juvy isn’t ready or willing to deal with heavy topics at this point.

They've built up a new Holopaw around them, expanding their sound in the process.

This blend of cheerful weirdness and sick beats--often supplied by the Neptunes, delivering tough, sensual rhythms in a way they haven’t in a long time, but also John Hill and Wyclef Jean--is giddily addicting, a celebration of all the strange sensuality that comes out at night.

Lambert sounds larger than life on these, just like he wants to be, and if there’s no sense of danger here, at least there’s a lot of pure pop pleasure here, more than any immediate post-Idol album has ever delivered.

Whether the album seems ridiculous or spectacular (or both), Rihanna's complete immersion in the majority of the songs cannot be disputed. That is the one thing that is not up for debate.

The lead single is a powerhouse of dance waves and infectiously produced beats, but the album doesn't always stand out as definitive, even though it's consistently fresh and innovative.

Boyle sings beautifully throughout, delivering more of the same of what she did in her moment in the sun on television. Those won over by Boyle, either her voice or story, will surely be satisfied.

Echo Party ends up being that rarest of commodities: a party record equally suited to the under 20 and over 40 crowds.

This certainly goes a long way to illustrating that Petty & the Heartbreakers always delivered the goods, but it's somewhat at the expense of forward momentum; it's hard not to wish that it was arranged chronologically, to be able to hear the raw energy give way to easy skill, but that's just nitpicking--any way you look at it, this Live Anthology offers an overdose of prime rock & roll.

All or Nothing is a strong U.S. debut for this Akon-meets-Chris Brown-styled singer, one that takes advantage of his suave back catalog and the hip new possibilities now possible via Cash Money.

Unexpected simply feels like a leap more than a step.

As on Anniemal, Don't Stop contains some of the catchiest, most clever dance-pop in circulation....The collaborations with Xenomania (five songs), Timo Kaukolampi (three), and Richard X (one) aren’t as powerful, however, with a good handful of their songs no match for Anniemal’s weaker moments.

Here, Jones ties up loose ends, unafraid to sound smooth or sultry, letting in just enough dissonance and discord to give this dimension, creating a subtle but rather extraordinary low-key record that functions as a piece of mood music but lingers longer, thanks to its finely crafted songs.

While there are melodies and hooks that certainly dig into the skull, what impresses is chemistry, how the three play together, how they instigate each other, and how they spur each other on, to the point where their familiar tropes sound fresh.

Here, Mayer is effortlessly seductive and somewhat irresistible, and it’s easy to see why the ladies love cool John.

There's nary an ounce of diva in Lewis, she seems to enjoy singing for the sake of it, which helps her out on an album like Echo, where the melodies are elliptical, not catchy, designed to showcase range, not to stick in the head or evoke emotion.

OneRepublic adds many production flourishes to their second album Waking Up: sawing strings, children's choirs, minor-key piano, cavernous U2 reverb, long ponderous instrumental sections of piano and orchestra duets, a title track that bears echoes of the Killers.

June. Though half of Real Estate was already released by the band as singles and EPs, that just adds to the album’s instantly familiar feel--which is a large part of this unassuming debut album’s appeal.

Unhip it may be by design, but at least Kris Allen delivers the goods: it’s tuneful and likeable, melodic enough to merit a close listen.

Members of the Clutch, Midi Mafia, â??Trickyâ? Stewart, Usher, and a handful of other notable producers and songwriters grant Bieber a set of songs that isn't quite top-level quality, but the singer more than gets by on his squeaky-clean charm and natural ability.

Apart from the inclusion of 'Mrs. Vanderbilt' and 'I'm Down,' there are no surprises, either in song selection or performance, but no surprises doesn't mean no satisfaction, and this is plenty entertaining.

Few debut albums are audacious enough to call to mind Odetta, M.I.A., and the Raincoats--often all at the same time--but this is just such a rare bird.

while he doesn't exactly adopt an in-your-face approach to the leading-man role, preferring to become part of the powerful collective he's assembled, Rawlings proves himself fully capable of taking the reins and leading this horse wherever he wants it to go.

The experience of hearing the band's ebb and flow as they organically develop the performance in real-time--as opposed to hearing a package of material that has been cherry-picked after the fact--is one of several advantages that the Live in New York (2009) anthology has over its predecessors. Another is the stunning fidelity throughout, thanks to the work of Doors' original producer/engineer Bruce Botnick and the exhaustive processes of restoring the eight-track, open-reel master tapes.

Murs and Slug put more thought and sincerity into their side projects than some MCs put into their main albums, and when you add that to the top-notch production and killer flow, Felt 3 is a no-brainer for lovers of hip-hop.

Before I Self Destruct is still a fantastic juggernaut of a 50 album if you exit early, and a very good one even if you don't.

While Ignore the Ignorant isn't perfect--Gary and Ryan Jarman's guileless vocals don't always jell with their slick surroundings--it is unquestionably some of the Cribs' most accomplished and diverse music.

Of course, new bands have lower expectations than established bands, and while virtually every listener will contrast Never Cry Another Tear with New Order's best work, it has the sweep and grandeur of the group's classic moments.

Maybe it would be easier to give The Fountain the benefit of the doubt if it hadn't been preceded by four similar efforts, or if singer Ian McCulloch hadn't spent the band's entire career unabashedly proclaiming their genius and preeminence in the rock world, but that's a lot of "if" to work with.

Thanks to some familiar melodies, it can sometimes seem seasonally appropriate, but it always seems purely Tori, who has somehow managed to deliver an easy listening version of all her signatures in one tidy, not so-Christmasy, package.

A knack for oversized choruses remains hardwired in Bon Jovi, but in this gloomy context, they act as reminders that they once sounded like they were a working band for working men instead of rich men fretting about a world they've long left behind.

The biggest complaint has to be that the early single 'Nike Boots' is missing, but otherwise, this unique debut does not disappoint.

Memento Mori (musically, at least) owes more to the tech-heavy, similarly faith-based King's X than it does the moody atmospherics of Evanescence, but there’s enough angst and obsession here to draw fans of the latter.

Returning fans may take comfort in these cathartic anthems, but those who were won over by "Poison Trees"--a return-to-form effort that combined melody with more nuanced arrangements--will prefer the deluxe edition's acoustic disc.

Xenophanes is proof that even as he reins himself in a bit, Rodriguez-Lopez cannot help but to push the envelope; this time it's as a rock & roll songwriter who knows too much to keep it simple, yet understands the instinct to draw the listener in, time and again, with layers of subtlety, powerful emotions, sleight-of-hand aural magic, and sheer power, as well as sophistication.

Rewolf ends up being a failure in two ways. The first is that the songs aren't strong enough to withstand the acoustic treatment....The second major flaw, and the one that really kills the album, has to do with what the lack of volume and energy uncovers.

Everything sounds livelier, more active. Huisman fills the empty spaces, never over-stuffs them, and the percussion is practically spring-loaded--from several angles--in comparison.

Hello Hurricane is by far the San Diego rockers' most natural, effortless outing to date.

Up to Now may be somewhat overwhelming for casual listeners — it's quite extensive, with the traditional hits sprinkled throughout a double-disc track list--but there's no better destination for a fan looking to consolidate his collection.

It's a set designed for the kind of diehard who would purchase a box set housed in a working amplifier, but its pleasures aren't limited to the dedicated, particularly when it comes to early AC/DC.

Even if The Apple and the Tooth is more a summation of where Bibio was in 2009 than another bold step forward, it's still a very enjoyable look back on his artistic growth that year.

The melding of clinical technology and human elements -- i.e., real instruments -- as a way of bringing the listener in made it nearly unbearable, but so utterly original that it compelled one to engage it.