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.

This is a unique if occasionally discomfiting album that finds great beauty in surprising places.

Why You Runnin’ may only be an EP--one can only hope Lissie has enough slow-smoked melody in her arsenal to sustain an entire album--but it's one of 2009’s finest folk releases regardless.

It may not have the sugar rush immediacy of the Strokes, and at times it's downright indulgent, but Phrazes for the Young shows that Casablancas has more than enough ideas for several albums on his own and with his band--and perhaps most importantly, he sounds more enthused about making music on it than he has since "Is This It."

Ultimately, it's Weezer's deft mixing of immediately hummable rock with lyrics that reveal Cuomo's own melancholy gaze on the pop landscape that makes Raditude a passionate surrender to growing up and a throw-your-arms-up-and-scream ride down the other side of the mid-life roller coaster.

Carrie takes a much stronger presence as a writer here, co-authoring seven of the 13 songs, and she's attracted to hookless showstoppers designed to showcase her powerful voice, all glory notes with no glory. When she sticks to tunes written solely by the professionals, Play On does have some slick pleasures.

Together, usually accompanied by little more than acoustic guitar and piano, they create emotionally rich musical miniatures that only ever take up as much room--both musically and lyrically--as they need.

Nothing here is quite an embarrassment, but compared to his other albums of this nature, including the muddled World of Morrissey, there's a distinct lack of humor and hooks, or anything else memorable.

Amerie returns with In Love & War, an album that is much more creative than its title indicates while also playing out a bit like Because I Love It redux.

Hints of this could be heard on the live comp From the Muddy Banks of the Wishkah, but this is a complete document of Nirvana in full flight and one of the greatest live rock & roll albums ever.

Not all Glee members are created equal--Cory Monteith (the show's hunky football captain) and Dianna Agron (the alternately caustic and vulnerable head cheerleader) can't sing nearly as well as their co-stars--but this soundtrack has enough star power to keep things trucking along, especially when powerhouse alto Lea Michele takes the wheel.

The first listen or two to World Painted Blood might be a bit confusing for the seasoned Slayer fan, but that changes quickly, and the sound of those drums blasting in one's head will become a more than welcome presence in the mix.

That Nirvana sound forceful isn't a surprise, but they also sound surprisingly tight--a little bit looser than they would sound within a year, but they're clearly marshaling their forces, gaining strength and skill.

This is an impulsive album, an odd piece of work that manages to be puzzling without alienating the listener.

Love Comes Close is a strong debut not just because Cold Cave embraces their darkness so fully, but because they find so many shades within it.

Invisible Girl is no-frills rhythm & blues and rock & roll done right, and the King Khan and BBQ Show get on the good foot with a mixture of sincerity and wailing abandon most of their contemporaries can't match.

Jones' faith in her own creative judgment is well-founded, and this is a work whose modest scale belies its emotional strength.

Introducing is strong enough to qualify Brilliant Colors as one of those bands to keep an eye on.

Chances are, Extended Vacation won't rope in fans of Gray's and Kotche's respective bands Wilco and Gastr del Sol, since it's a far cry from alt-country or math rock, but those looking for something that's avant-garde but fairly easy to digest might find this minimalist mood piece strangely soothing.

Flashmob is some of Vitalic's most artful, even subtle work. It may or may not be as profoundly influential as "OK Cowboy," but it's just as engaging and even more cohesive.

All the unearthed Stones material is strong--particularly the pair of acoustic numbers, "Prodigal Son" and "You Gotta Move"--but in comparison to what made it onto the LP, they do sound like outtakes (to be fair, the LP did have some minor overdubs whereas these five cuts seem to be unadorned with additions), and they're also overshadowed by the absolutely terrific opening sets.

Themes may be revisited, but Escape 2 Mars stills comes across as fresh and meaningful and fun.

Greatest Hits isn't arranged chronologically, which isn't a detriment; if anything, skipping through the years emphasizes just how consistent the Foos have been, always delivering oversized rock & roll where the hooks are as big as the guitars.

It's striking stuff--definitely not easy listening, but well worth the effort, even if it feels like a slightly lopsided affair, with the final four tracks overshadowed by one terrifically effective and truly inventive epic.

Albums like this pretty much ask you right away to either turn it up or throw it out, and there's no denying the polarizing nature of D.I.Y. indie rock, but Jookabox is consistently visceral, darkly funny, and wholly unpredictable enough to warrant more than a cursory spin around the neighborhood.

There's something quietly but persistently unique about the duo's work that suggests its own realm, quirky and wry but not simply a showcase for lyrical wit, gently swinging and twangy without losing a sense of calm hush.

Islands is by no means a bad record. It's pleasant but it's unnecessary, and in an era of so many bands and so many releases, that's just not good enough.

Banhart's persona emerges intact despite the mainstream sound, however, and What Will We Be becomes a pleasantly fresh album to follow the ponderous, sprawling "Smokey Rolls Down Thunder Canyon."

Strict Joy is a joy from start to finish, as few bands manage to mix intimacy and sweeping songcraft with such finesse.

It's the contrast between their writing styles and voices, slight as they may be, that works to make Sainthood another rich and rewarding album.

Some of McKnight's devoted fanbase will find the album rather fascinating since it's a change of pace, more a collection of loose sketches than a highly polished set.

A tighter, cleaner band than the scruffy renegades of the '80s, but still the same band, which is evident here in ways it never was on the perfectly fine R.E.M. Live. That was a production. This is rock & roll.

Sometimes needlessly complex and, at its worst, goofy for the sake of being goofy--proper boots-in-a-dryer bizniz with shrill flotsam swirling about--these tracks can be as off-putting as they are exhilarating.

This is still insanely large-sounding music, and is heavy in the extreme, but its new tenets give listeners more to hold on--and perhaps dream on--than simply low-tuned, ponderous riffing.

If this is not the most live-sounding dance album made with synthetic instrumentation, it must be pretty close.

Not so much a soundtrack to a film that was never made as it is music that demands images to accompany it, this is a welcome return after the four years of silence that followed Tender Buttons.