Far from being the soundtrack to a raging party, Black Butterfly is the flipside of indulgence: Buckcherry is now the sound of a slow slide into the monotony of addiction.

Getting back on track, DJ Khaled's We Global corrects all the mistakes made on his disappointing sophomore effort "We the Best" and gets back to the high-quality control of his debut "Listennn: The Album."

Down to Earth's title depicts Jem as a grounded musician, but its wide-ranging sound suggests something different, as the singer has yet to find a style that fully suits her capabilities. Fortunately, her search for the perfect genre still yields some enjoyable songs, as shown by this album's handful of standout tracks.

Joseph Raglani's brief but quite enjoyable five-song effort isn't some sudden new stroke of artistic genius--instead it aims to hit certain strong points and does so well enough that his future work will be worth investigating.

Teaming up with some fresh collaborators seems to have done Pollard a world of good after recording the bulk of his post-GBV work with Todd Tobias handling all the instruments; Moen and Slusarenko don't bring a striking level of chops to Brown Submarine, Boston Spaceships' debut album, but their work has an organic feel and a natural energy that helps these sessions sound like the work of a real band.

The result is a masterpiece, and a master class in what songwriting is really all about. Songs.

Metallica is still vitally violent and on this terrific album--a de facto comeback, even if they never have really went away--they're finally acting like they enjoy being a great rock band.

It not only re-establishes him as a pioneer, but as an engaging personae who isn't hiding behind his sonic palette anymore; his music is all the better for it.

Carried to Dust isn't just one of Calexico's most expansive albums, it's also their most balanced, channeling their experience and potential into a subtly dramatic, chiaroscuro tour de force.

At 67, Baez betrays some vocal aging, but she uses it wisely to impart extra feeling into what is often a downbeat collection of quality songs, and Earle has succeeded in his attempt not to reinvent her, but to re-create her sound and message in contemporary terms.

Airy synths and breathy vocals render the songs too dreamy to dance to, and the funky basslines and mechanical beats render them too dancey to dream to. That's the sweet spot of F&M.

Stand Ins glows a little less bright than its' predecessor, but it shines nonetheless.

Gym Class Heroes' Quilt is very, very much of its time: it skates by on the surface, which is appealing for a while, but in large doses it can seem like too much empty style.

Jessica's team haven't had a knack for picking the right song but she could possibly clear that hurdle if she showed some sign of life as a vocalist, but she's unfailingly listless no matter how many theatrical gestures she attempts to cram in her big boring ballads.

These are not songs for the parents, nor are these tunes meant to educate or even entertain: these are the kinds of songs that kids chant in the backseat when they mean to annoy their parents.

Loveless treats these songs without even a trace of nostalgia, but as the living embodiment of stories that not only transfer emotion, but reveal the hidden truths of love, life, sadness, grief, and wisdom gained by experience.

As dazzling as Entanglements can be, its polish and uniqueness makes it more polarizing than anything Parenthetical Girls have done before.

The New Year also stands as an equal to the brothers' best work and that makes it absolutely essential to any card-carrying indie rock devotee.

Living on the Other Side is uncalculated and unassuming its delivery, evoking an earlier era without dressing the band in Glenn Frey's castoff threads from the Desperado cover shoot. It's also incredibly tuneful, which makes the Donkeys' second effort an enjoyable summer album.

the two carve up each track like master craftsman, finding the perfect middle ground between the sparse, reverb-laden landscapes of the Great Lake Swimmers and the orchestral, aching beauty of Hem.

She's not above revisiting periods where the creative process of collaboration was symbiotic as well as successful.

Out with a whimper, not a bang, Exit 13 is an off-ramp leading to a boulevard of several mismanaged White Castle knock-offs.

As it is, Now or Heaven is good enough but too derivative and uneven to be seen as anything other than a mild disappointment.

Me and Armini emerges as an album suitable for bookworms and beach bunnies, homebodies and world travelers, dancers and wallflowers. Highly recommended.

Soft Airplane is a more focused outing; one that rarely travels outside the indie pop realm.

This is a splendid recording of ten fine songs from an artist poised to become one of the leading singer/songwriters of the day, and if it lacks the sense of surprise that accompanied her first effort, Angela Desveaux & the Mighty Ship is on repeat listenings an even more satisfying work.

All the Way isn't Growing's best or most essential release, but it's a likable outing and should have no problem appealing to the New Yorkers' hardcore followers.

Sweaty Magic's fearless experimentation is admirable--and though its songs are far from flawless, there are enough keepers here to make it a fun, summery fling.

That Lucky Old Sun rarely approaches the subtleties of the classic Beach Boys sound. What it evokes instead is the driving '70s productions on latter-day Beach Boys albums like "15 Big Ones" and "Love You."

End Titles...Stories for Film wears the signs of its creation poorly, unlike the quite-good odds'n'sods collection "More Stories," which despite its high quality was released only in Australia.

The problem facing New Kids on the Block on their 2008 reunion The Block is the same one they had on their last album, 1994's "Face the Music": the quintet are no longer kids and don't quite know how to be adults.

Even if it falls a distant third out of the first three, the scattershot Recession is still a welcome and even risky step forward, one carried by its highlights and the newfound awareness that the cocaine grind isn't everything.

You keep wishing something would spread the information across a broader landscape so you can more readily take it all in. But then again, maybe the chemically enhanced listener will be better prepared to absorb all the color Shall Noise Upon enthusiastically radiates.

It doesn't take long for Separation to rescue itself from painfully serious, aggro-MTV mediocrity, as those two tracks are quickly followed up by the riveting 'A Fault Line, A Fault of Mine' and 'Emergency Broadcast: The End Is Near.'

The wisdom, humor, and literate, biting world view, is all balanced with the wisdom of tenderness, and a poetic sense of the heart's own aspirations and disappointments.

Andersson brings a real sense of songcraft to the project, and many of her melodies are appealingly ethereal.

Brotherhood's track listing could easily be quarreled with, but it includes most of the approved highlights from each album, early or old, innovative or orthodox.

There are a few additional moments of greatness, but also a few more tracks on the opposite side--they may make for great background listening, but seem to require altered states to get through while focusing on the music.

Ambitious as some of that may seem, Exit never feels like a show-off record--just a thoughtfully put-together one.

It's pleasant, even comforting, which makes Forth as pure a sequel as possible: it's an album that offers more of the same many years too late, which will be enough for the legions of faithful who have waited to hear all the old characters back together again, yet seems a little pointless for those who no longer remain quite so invested in the band.

The art never gets too over-indulgent and it never gets in the way of the songs.

Add the "Jam on It" sample producer Nottz lays on "Ya Heard," the sultry backing track Scott Storch designed for "Let Us Live," and a superstar guest list that's a mile long, and this scattershot album is easy to recommend despite its flaws.

In spots, it sags, and a couple tracks seem more like sketches than neatly bundled songs, yet it's one of the year's more entertaining and easily enjoyable R&B releases, fronted by someone who does not take herself all that seriously.

All Hope Is Gone as a whole winds up being as bleak and unforgiving as its title.

The crisp, unadorned production--courtesy of Matthew himself, who recorded and mixed this in his home studio--keeps the focus on his brilliant pop hooks, which shine brighter and cleaner here than they have in quite some time.

Power metal may not be the most inventive musical style on the planet, but Dragonforce are making it more exciting than most anyone else has for quite some time.

The Rocky Road is well worthy of being mentioned alongside classic albums by the Dubliners and Planxty, and that's as big a compliment as it could be paid.

The ex-Noise Ratchet founders shift to more rootsy territory with their new band, yielding impressive results.

Motorizer falls short of essential and isn't quite in a class with Motorhead's best late-'70s/early-'80s output, but this album is definitely respectable.

Alias has created his most welcoming and positive dream world on Resurgam, an album where the creaks comfort and the low cloud cover comes off as heavenly.

Even if King winds up returning to his familiar slick, star-studded sound somewhere down the line, having an album as earthily elegant as One Kind Favor in his canon provides a fitting coda for one of the great musical careers of the 20th century.

Cohesive, eclectic, expansive but never ponderous, Cream Cuts proves that Tussle don't have to do something radically different to craft music this exciting.

All of Never Never Love is a satisfying step forward for Pop Levi--a congruent collection of tunes that temper an enjoyable excess of rhetoric with a workman-like adherence to properly serving a hook.

For Fed, [Hayes] recruited everyone from veteran R&B arranger Tom Tom MMLXXXIV to jazz session drummer Morris Jennings to stalwart indie noisemaker Steve Albini to create a record as rich, complex, and ornate as the previous record was simple and spare.

Both youthful and novel--Li was twenty-one upon its release, which may explain both her occasional goofy vocal affectations and the hesitant freshness of her sound--it's hard to pigeonhole but refreshingly easy to enjoy.

Ra Ra Riot sound elated to have finally arrived at this point: the release of their debut, the payoff after a very tough year, and the proof that they're one of 2008's most promising newcomers.

Chemical Chords manages to be even more concisely charming than that album, sacrificing little of Stereolab's distinctive sound for its immediacy.

The musicianship is mature--a jangly, shifting cornucopia of guitar, bass, organs, and drums--but it is practically ignorable behind the caterwauling wail of Johnny Whitney, which takes precedence over all.

You & Me delves deeply into the evocative ballads that have made the band fascinating since "Everyone Who Pretended to Like Me Is Gone."

The best moments of ...Earth to the Dandy Warhols... rival the Dandys' finest work, and despite some weak spots, it's a giant leap in the right direction.

Oceans Will Rise is a return to form for the Stills, who've earned their merit as an experimental group with a strong knack for pop/rock hooks.

This reverence for Campbell's greatest work is what grounds Meet Glen Campbell, as it shows a deep understanding of what made those recordings work as pop records as well as an understanding of what a terrific interpretive singer Campbell is at his peak.

The Fiery Furnaces' hyperactive creativity keeps them fascinating in concert, on record, and on Remember's one of a kind fusion of those worlds.

Fast Times at Barrington High doesn't go to the hoop with every song, but it scores more than enough points to make it a career highlight, not to mention one of the best emo albums (whatever that means) of 2008.

There may be no recognition of L.A. Style, but in their blissfully ignorant, lazily monotonous sunshine grooves, Shwayze does manage to be all about the style of L.A. in 2008, creating the quintessential record for L.A. sleazeballs.

Ballads have always been his forte, a convenient vehicle for his quivering sensitivity and accidental melodicism, yet it's still startling how slow The Illusion of Progress unfolds, as Staind rarely muster the energy to move beyond midtempo even when they deign to crank up their amps for anthems of mild alienation or vague inspiration.

It's a tight, cohesive record with a subtle but undeniable resonance, a record that Juliana Hatfield always seemed on the verge of delivering but finally has.

Recovery revisits Wainwright's back catalog and finds new meaning in the tunes he wrote as a young man.

His enigmatic lyrics, pastoral West coast melodies, and blissfully androgynous voice rule the roost here.

What is plainer throughout is that someone has finally delivered a follow-up to the Beach Boys' "Friends" album, dwelling on moments and sensibilities that slip past most of us in the normal course of a day.

Even if they're slow to arrive, GZA's full-lengths rarely disappoint. Pro Tools is no different, but with so many divergent projects and experiments from the Clan filling the five previous years, this throwback also proves the crew's original formula still works splendidly.

The bombastic intro and interludes with Keith David could go too, but otherwise this no-answers, gritty ego trip will satisfy his fans while pushing everyone else away even further.

Invisible Cinema is as fine a debut as one is likely to hear in 2008.

Although Strawberry Weed doesn't lodge its melodies into the listener's brain, it still makes a good case for repeated listens.

Alternately blissed-out and ragingly psychedelic, this debut is one of 2008's most promising records.

Here with Me is a cozy and wholly comfortable album, one that begs to be played during rainy days and Sunday afternoons.

Hovering in the shadows comes Apse's Spirit, a mesmerizing album where the shrouded world of Gothic gloom meets the outer stratosphere of space rock.

The Door is a beautifully mysterious and deeply satisfying entry in the ECM canon and a very auspicious debut.

There's every chance that Laura Marling will get lost in the shuffle as the unexpected commercial success of Feist's The Reminder leads major labels to unleash hordes of similarly talented female singer/songwriters, but Alas I Cannot Swim is far better than the average coffee house-endorsed girly pop.

It's painful that this will be the only Royal We record ever. Many of the band's members moved on to other quite good bands (Sexy Kids, Bricolage, Correcto), but the chemistry they had as the Royal We will be hard to replicate.

The key to its success is that it is pitched perfectly between frivolous, disposable pop and meticulous mature craft, so as the Jonas Brothers continue to grow they might wind up losing that sense of fun that is integral to their music, but with this record they hit all the notes just right.

The tunes are old and new, borrowed and blue, but Thomas makes them all her own.

This is an album for Sunday afternoons, for fans of Frank Sinatra and Aaron Copeland, for sophisticates who want music to soothe their minds rather than demand their full attentions.

From the confrontational album title to the cuss words, Berg is working to shake the pop tag and turn it hardcore with a baller stance that isn't so much embarrassing as it is uninteresting.

The unpretentious intelligence and skillful wordplay of Weaver's lyrics go a long way towards making The Ax in the Oak a richly satisfying work for grownup listeners, and the imaginative surroundings Weaver, Deck, and a handful of sympathetic musicians have crafted for these songs only make them stronger and more affecting.

Fasciinatiion clicks enough of the time to make it a step forward from "Wet From Birth," and despite its unevenness, at times it can be fasciinatiing.

The fact that the music does feel relaxed, even when it bears his classicist affectations, does make Conor Oberst markedly different than the music of Bright Eyes, and makes it a worthwhile project--even if it proves to be a detour instead of a new beginning.

It's his signature sound and Harps and Angels captures it sublimely, as the production--a co-credit to Newman's longtime associate Lenny Waronker and his latter-day producer Mitchell Froom--has no fancy accoutrements and he's written another set of quietly wonderful songs.

Girls and Weather loses neither steam nor charm throughout; it's an album for adults who want an excuse to behave like kids again.

Between 'I'm Wit It,' 'Girls,' and a couple other standouts, Lessons and Love cannot be dismissed, but Lloyd will have to really change it up with his fourth album to evade a real holding pattern.

It's a familiar mix of music, to be sure, but Fragile Future also sounds more valid than other emo albums, even if its hooks aren't quite as muscular as those on the band's previous disc.

With Brazilian Girls' sense of wonder and love of musical globe-trotting as strong as ever, New York City is a welcome return to form for this very special group.

The final part finds a midpoint of sorts between the two, with quick, skittering drumming matched by a series of drone and keyboard loops, rhythmic but not explicitly melodic, ending the album on a calmer but no less compelling note and promising quite a lot for the next two entries in the series.

Perfect for a summer day.

It's not the worst thing imaginable to make a nice, pleasant record that wouldn't trouble anyone; it's just that Vandervelde (seemingly) promised more than just a peaceful easy feelin', and Waiting for the Sunrise is an almost complete disappointment in that regard.

The Brooklyn boys maintain their hipster sensibilities and flip between speedy grit and sweetheart pop, with varied results.

You can appreciate the emotion put into The Lord Dog Bird and feel the soul being poured out--but without any variety in the album's sound or any songs that jump out and demand repeat spins, ultimately you're left with a less than satisfying listening experience.

By letting all of his sides surface here, Springfield winds up with a satisfying album, as it gets to his sober nature without abandoning his fizzy gifts.