As a vocalist and songwriter, Miller is in solid form here, though as with most of his solo work, this lacks a bit of the heart and soul he brings to the Old 97's. But The Messenger has a stronger individual personality that most of Miller's solo work, and he and Sam Cohen make a good team in the studio.

Nowhere near their best effort, What Is There still manages to retain enough of the widescreen essence of its predecessors to transcend its fixation on sonic baubles.

Fire It Up showcases Cropper's joyous brand of grit & groove with swagger and attitude.

Most of The Album sounds as if it was made with relaxation in mind; it's all shimmering soft rock and tempered disco, soundtracks for Montana skies and celebrations. The exceptions to the rule are "Little Bird" and the Bellion duet "Walls," a pair of slower, introspective numbers that end The Album on a curiously dour note.

Some fans will miss Múm's wispier, bygone days, but those willing to give the band a chance to change and grow will welcome the chance to get to know them all over again.

Most of the artists here perform a similar trick, choosing love songs over protests, keeping things intimate instead of anthemic. Naturally, there are exceptions to the rule, but the scales on Chimes of Freedom are tipped toward pretty stripped-down sincerity.

It's hard to deny the sparkle and fade of Depeche Mode beats and the sensual allure of Duran Duran. After 25 years, those sounds still hold up; by 2004, however, it's an incredible task to pull this kind of thing off without selling yourself to the tastes of the masses.

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.

Hopeless Fountain Kingdom as a whole feels quintessentially 2017 in how it jumbles styles and sentiment, streamlining a teeming, contradictory culture into something smooth, glassy and easy to digest.

With the illuminated big head and all, Canadian producer Joel Zimmerman's Deadmau5 alias is a blast to see live, but you can also bring quite a bit of that tech-house-meets-slammin'-electro excitement home with 4 x 4 = 12.

Breakthrough splatters so many short ideas across its 47 minutes that a front-to-back listen is wearying, like hearing a dozen erratic interludes mixed in with a handful of lengthier sketches that are no more settled.

There are too many songs, simply too much to make Say You Will work, even if there is enough to admire to make you wish it did.

It's far from a bad listen, nor is it embarrassing, but it's entirely too predictable, coming across as nothing more than well-tailored, expensive mood music.

LL offers up "you rap for the thugs/I rap for the ladies" on the album, but there's some tough, near-"Mama Said Knock You Out"'s here, and from any hardcore thug's point of view, he's getting better at splitting the difference.

A work of intense drama but little importance.

The whole gang sounds as good as ever.

It's interesting that while so many of these songs are peppered with faux-mystical approaches to spirituality, the album is also confessional and looks hard at itself, even if at times it seems cloying, self-indulgent, and preachy.

Ultimately, though, the tracks and Memphis May Fire themselves are the sum of their parts and little more; like many young bands, they haven't learned yet that writing a bunch of parts isn't the same thing as writing a song.

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.

The good songs are timeless facsimiles that float out of another era's memory, while the rest of the album's tracks, while well built, recorded, and sung, seem like forgettable, hazy clichés from 30 years ago.

Throughout, the engaging melodies, reliable hooks, and warm, even-tempered vocals would win friends easily; its simmering energy pushes the album over the line into crush-worthy.

The album never comes off as a slavish museum piece. It feels instead as if they somehow rediscovered this sound, like an old coat picked out of the attic that looks as perfect with a modern ensemble as it did in its own heyday.

Carefree Theatre is a well-crafted exercise in sunny indie pop, with clean and fuzzy guitars pairing up for maximum melodic friendliness and contented harmonies keeping the music fresh and warm.

Two Vines may not be the group's masterpiece, but it is their most consistent album yet. Their mastery of modern pop sounds, ability to craft melodies that have a timeless quality, and the real connection they provide to people who want their frivolous pop music to have some depth and meaning, is impressive.

Lifeblood is a pleasant listen, but once you peel away the keyboards, sensitively strummed guitars and tasteful harmonies and concentrate on Bradfield's nakedly open voice and Wire's terminally collegiate lyrics, it's hard to escape the unintentional pathos that winds up defining the album and, conceivably, the band's latter-day career.

It's a well-dressed set of nine finely crafted love songs.

Perhaps the Avetts are best when they run a little bit loose and ragged, letting the tempos push a little bit hard, allowing their harmonies to clash and happy to have their loose ends remain untied. Often, this means that the ballads are just a shade too tidy.

The problem is, the subdued rhythms, riffs, and raps of A Thousand Suns wind up monochromatic, an impression not erased by the brief bridges between songs, sampled speeches, and easy segues, every element retaining moodiness without offering distinction.

It's an impressive debut from a very promising group.

Despite this one skippable moment ["Beautiful"], Kiss Me Once is a glittering, fun, and surprisingly powerful album that's classic Kylie through and through.

Timbaland and Reid evoke the Michael Jackson we all love and miss, finding songs that are worthy and giving them arrangements that are simultaneously nostalgic and modern. It's a difficult trick to pull off but they largely succeed, so XSCAPE is a worthy and memorable coda to Jackson's career.

Exquisite Corpse is a near perfect blend of the densely packed, sample heavy, nearly symphonic electronica and off-kilter hip-hop that the last three albums have featured.

Despite its occasional lapses into schmaltz and generic R&B, Heavy Rotation is still a charming and versatile record that has her unmistakable voice and personality stamped all over it.

Most of the album stays sludgy though, and Seeing Eye Dog tends to drag more than it hits.

There are no upbeat pop-oriented songs, and stylistic diversions are not part of the program, either. It is something of a refinement of Cole's first two albums, and yet it involves a revolving door of songwriters and producers.

Ottewell isn't the first Gomez bandmate to pursue interests outside the band, but Shapes & Shadows is the most accessible solo effort to appear from that group.

You should know from Hernandez's track record that there will be plenty of hooky melodies and songs that will be stuck like glue in your head and on your lips, and he certainly doesn't let you down here.

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

If you're looking for music that will fire up the honky tonk all night long, All Over the Road sure isn't it, but if you want to dance close with your baby after a few beers on a Saturday night, Easton Corbin's the man to see.

By maintaining forward momentum while having so much going on in every song, the band makes Shaky Dream an album that provides plenty of depth without sacrificing accessibility, striking a fine balance between catchy melodies and murky atmospherics.

There is no doubt that Scattergood is deeply connected to the journey that she voyages through on Arrows, and it's clear that only a small future refinement would result in more songs like the shimmering electro-pop of "Subsequently Lost."

Driving Excitement and the Pleasure of Ownership is a great introduction to a band that deserves to have a close watch kept on its future activities.

Alternating between bro country that's just past its sell-by date, summertime party tunes so breezy they get silly, and a heavy dose of southern rock, the Cadillac Three demonstrate versatility but they also seem scattered, as if they're scrambling for an audience.

While the feisty, Imagine Dragons-meets-Twisted Sister vibe remains their forte, it's Vale's pop proclivities that ultimately win out, suggesting that future endeavors may rely less on fighting the man, and more on working alongside him.

Here, he winds up finding depth within his signature mellow good times, and the result is one of Chesney's best records: it goes down smooth yet lingers in the memory long after its gone.

The elements are familiar, but Hawkins assembles fuzz guitars, glam beats, New Wave synths, and operatic harmonies with flair and wit, turning Get the Money into a giddy journey to the past that's remarkably devoid of nostalgia.

Its lyrics are concerned mainly with current- or post-relationship malaise, whether he regrets ever getting together in the first place (the somewhat cringy "Starfucker"), feels distant ("2001," "Same Old Story"), wonders if he's leaving any impression at all ("What's It Gonna Take to Break Your Heart?"), or ambivalently philosophizes "Maybe love is a way to kill time," which could have been the title for the album.

Overall, there is just enough on Everything Now to appease fans and attract newcomers with accessible singles, but as an Arcade Fire record, it's unfortunately too inconsistent and ultimately hollow. Arcade Fire sought to make a Big Statement but instead produced one of their least impactful works.

Stripped of harsh digital fuzz and angular guitars, Fatherland is an honest, satisfying window into the heart and mind of the man himself.

Film School isn't breathtakingly original, but it is well made.

Ray Ray occasionally loses focus, slipping into moments that are either undercooked or worthy of the cutting room, but it's enjoyable enough to keep his followers happy and will certainly act as a remedy for those who don't like the gold-bricked path being taken by mainstream R&B.

On Music for Listening to Music To, there's a vision, but it's not Goodman's and it's not well conceived or well executed.

Liberated from the weight of their history, they're just ready to rock while they still can, and that's why Ready to Die is, against all odds, a terrific Stooges album.

Eskmo is clearly a major talent, and if his muse takes him in odd and inscrutable directions, it's almost always worthwhile to follow and listen.

There's no denying that, a half-decade late or not, SebastiAn has delivered.

Get Along isn't the first live set offered up to listeners by the sisterly Canadian crooners Tegan and Sara, but when paired with its deluxe edition DVD, it's certainly their most ornate.

A Time to Love finds the two halves of Wonder's adult career finally coming to home to roost in peaceful harmony with one another, and it's one of the finest records he has done in decades.

Caligula club music and nothing but, Stay Trippy is a pimp party of the highest order.

The shift to a more dynamically rich sound suits Simple Plan just fine.

What follows is a lovingly balanced set of rural rockers ("Street Fighting Sun") and dirt road ballads ("Girl in a Coat") that sound about as far from the murky introspection of 2010's Destroyer of the Void as one would expect from a band that continuously tries to reinvent themselves within their own psych-folk/alt-country/indie rock universe, and almost always succeeds.

Midtempo tracks like "Only if for a Night," "No Light, No Light," and "What the Water Gave Me," the latter of which finds Welch in full control of the room by the song's second half, are soulful, spooky, and bold.

At worst, it feels unfinished, and at best, it feels like a mixtape cobbled together from mostly choice tracks but without that overseer's polish.

Everything Goes Wrong is by no means a bad album, but there are other bands doing this same kind of thing, and doing it with better songs and a better sound.

Moore has a great set of pipes, a mix of the throaty take charge style of Toni Braxton and the soft vulnerability of Janet Jackson, an undeniable sexiness, and a real emotional conviction that lends the songs an authenticity absent in many current releases. Still, with all that she has going for her, Exposed only manages to be a hit and miss record.

It's actually a fair album for two main reasons: the new lead single, "Slow Jamz," and the killer guest productions of Kanye West.

The Hunger for More is another solid release from the crew and is a couple steps down from 50 Cent's Get Rich or Die Tryin' and a step above G-Unit's Beg for Mercy.

It is more than the sum of its many parts, as the Warlocks whip up a '60s of the imagination, making you hear the sounds anew while resurrecting the old before your very eyes.

Many of these samples have been heard before, and the influences (ranging from easy listening to soundtracks to hip-hop) aren't very original either.

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

Lady Antebellum always have been a pop band so this concentrated gloss doesn't feel inappropriate.

Raven in the Grave may not be what you expected going in, but by the time it's through the powerful emotions transmitted through the words, voices, and sound will win you over completely.

Usually, Inside Llewyn Davis is straight satire, though, as it concentrates on the titular character's channeling of Von Ronk and, as such, has no intention of treating the music cavalierly; it winds up as something unusual for the Coens: an homage that comes from a place of warmth, a salute so loving it's hard to deny the affection.

While Breakout isn't as much of a breakthrough as it could be, it still moves Miley closer to an identity and career outside of Hannah.

Far more interesting than any of their other records, or their peers'.

Add it all up and this not-so-conceptual-after-all album points out both the rapper's limitations and his strengths. Call it a draw.

Dear Miss Lonelyhearts is more about what the band does best rather than breaking new ground, and the result is some of Cold War Kids' most promising and satisfying music since their debut.

Ode isn't quite as strong song-wise as "The Boy" but it makes up for the difference with its deepened palette--again, this palette may not be as rich as some of their peers, but compared to Travis' other work of the past decade, this is richer and livelier as sheer sonics go.

Rowe seems even more like an instrument rather than a lead voice, but it's all comforting, if not revealing, made more for background or late-night listening than complete emotional immersion.

As always, the beauty of the duo's music makes these moments all the more haunting.

Maximizing that powerful female energy is Tennessee-raised lead singer Rachael Price, whose dusky, highly resonant vocals, reminiscent of Dusty Springfield, ground the album with a warm virtuosity. It also doesn't hurt that Kearney, guitarist Mike Olson, drummer Mike Calabrese, and touring keyboardist Akie Bermiss frame her in earthy, organic arrangements with a tactile, live-in-the-studio feel.

Return to Center can feel like a bit of a lark, but it's administered with enough gravitas that it's easy to dial into the flow.

This, though, is the kind of nice, safe album a listener wants to like badly, but whose flaws ultimately leave one fumbling for the skip button on repeat listens.

Skaters' knack for writing infectious melodies often offsets their enthusiasm, so although Manhattan is an uneven record, its bright spots still have capacity to shine like Times Square.

While Face the Promise isn't quite Night Moves or Stranger in Town, it stands proudly next to those albums and is most assuredly the work of the same singer.

While many of the group's songs aren't quite as unusual as that string of letters seems (most of them do, in fact, incorporate choruses), the group steers pretty far from the norm on their self-titled record.

It misses a little more than it hits.

They've rediscovered what made them vital.

Thoughtfully crafted and full of melancholic lyricism and quietly desperate romanticism, My Head Is an Animal should appeal to any fan--whether man or monster--of sweet and wide-eyed folk-rock.

Ultimately, with Brass, the Royal Bangs have tested their musical mettle and created a possible future classic to be appreciated for years to come.

With the distractions of Flynn's burgeoning acting career and the birth of his first child, Country Mile may not have been the great creative leap forward that some fans were hoping for, but this beautifully written album stands up to anything in his catalog.

If the intended result for fans is just hearing the combination of Davies' arch lyrics with Matthews' majestic arrangements and occasional breathy backing vocals, then it's mission accomplished.

All of this is a far cry from Azure Ray's work, perhaps, but Ask the Night is often gorgeous in its simplicity.

Johnston's craft as a vocalist can rise to the level of Falkner's well-crafted soundscapes, he's going to sound out of place on his own albums if he keeps making records like Is and Always Was.

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.

Fortunately for Flobots, the messages in The Circle in the Square feel pretty universal. While the matter of whether or not hip-hop backed by a live band is your taste is purely a subjective one.

The members of Hooray for Earth are locked in with each other and offer up a riskier, more mind-expanding take on their formerly polite sound.

Overall, Weird! is an energetic breath of fresh air that doesn't sacrifice heart or a hopeful, supportive message, adding another jewel to Yungblud's crown as princeling of the outcast masses.

Given that Early Birds is an hour-plus odds-and-sods compilation, it's not surprising that it doesn't flow like a proper album, but it does show that Múm knew what they were doing from the start.