The temptation is to listen to some of their mentors instead, as many of the acts who have walked this sonic highway before have done so with much more swagger, a better inclination for a danceable tune, and an inherent dose of innovation.

While all listeners may not share his fascination with '80s pop culture detritus, it's hard not to respect how expertly he transforms it into something genuine.

Considering the circumstances, FOTC's second Sub-Pop outing, I Told You I Was Freaky, has some worthwhile moments.

On Pressure, the solid if routine follow-up to Trap or Die 3, Jeezy doesn't deviate from his standard set of themes. He's still rhyming about his rise from the bottom, the product he's shifting, and all the disposable wealth and women that have come with it, all the while castigating would-be detractors and snitches.

The sheer ballast of [Jack] White's vision can be exhausting, the individual elements clanking chaotically and never quite gelling. Jackson gives as strong as a performance as she can, tearing into the oldies with ease and valiantly attempting the new songs, but she sounds most at ease with the quieter moments.

This should have been the album where the Mars Volta either wore the formula down to nothing or abruptly turned in a different direction, but instead the band created an album that nearly perfects what they've been working toward.

Ultimately, Interpol isn't a statement of purpose as much as it is the end of an era for the band: With Dengler gone and back on their original label, they have the ability, and perhaps necessity, to go in any direction they choose.

Zig Zaj sounds more like a rehash than the entirely new recipe that music fans are undoubtedly looking for.

The album creates a nice contrast between the pleasant melodies of the songs and the seething, dissatisfied lyrics that rest on top of them.

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.

So There is both ambitious and down-to-earth, impeccably constructed, and utterly accessible.

Cast the Same Old Shadow ultimately crumbles under the weight of its own despondency.

It's the type of album that will be most apt to impress aspiring producers, but also hip enough that it could serve as a backing soundtrack for a dinner party too.

Dirty Gold is certainly a flawed debut, and yet it's not what's inside that's flawed, it's just the container's inability to hold such OCD-ish genius.

Even though No Tourists is yet another same-sounding entry in the Prodigy's late-era discography, it's also another satisfying dose of thrills designed to wreck the dancefloor and the mosh pit.

Still sounding like no other artist on the planet--whether because of talent or intent--Squarepusher succeeds again with a radical, challenging piece of music.

Phillip Taylor, Matt Scott, and Josh Swinney fuse together blood-pumping indie rock with an unwitting gift for power pop to craft a tight, fun-packed debut that never misses the mark.

Fans of either band--and experimental music in general--who appreciate Savages and Bo Ningen's restless spirits will likely enjoy Words to the Blind for what it is: equal parts duet and battle, and a hell of a ride.

As a celebration of GbV's core virtues, Please Be Honest really does honor the sound of the band as much as the skills of its frontman and founder.

Angel Guts: Red Classroom proves Xiu Xiu can still make impressively intimidating music--even if their real strengths arguably lie elsewhere.

There are a couple of standouts here--'Like It or Not' could be a cross between 'It'5!' and the Cure's bizarrely cheerful moments, while 'Nothing's Wrong' shows what the rest of the album should've sounded like--but most of Places Like This is a mystifying misfire.

An added bonus for Orton loyalists.

France's Tahiti 80 seem so enamoured with their musical idols that they can barely voice a personal touch of their own.

There's not a clunker in the bunch, as at least six of album's 11 songs are among the band's finest creations.

Dust is a stunning look into his exotic, sharp imagination and a vibrant effort for those who've watched him evolve.

This is the recording that the homogenous Dream Harder failed to become. It's ambitious, moody, surreal, and relevant.

Compared to Chris Martin's solo work as Ampbuzz, Herzog's efforts can certainly be more forceful and less meditative, though often only by a matter of degrees.

This willfully noisy, messy album is ultimately just as contrived as the band's glossier sound was, and the shift from The Guest's winsome pop -- which was also a shift from their debut's heavily Weezer-influenced sound -- makes it difficult to get a grip on the band.

Aside from all the criticism, the previously unreleased musings of Aphex Twin are still far more intriguing and solid than most producers' best releases.

This is a lot closer to the type of compilation you'd get with an issue of CMJ than something special.

Their darkly whimsical music has ties to the sweetly strange work of '90s groups like the Sundays, Sixpence None the Richer, and (especially) Belly, but there simply aren't many bands that sound like Eisley around in the 2000s.

Such Fun might fill that space over the fireplace, but it doesn't really pull the room together.

This wide net says more about Maroon 5's fashion than it does their music--they're sharp and smart enough to know what will get them club play and blog mentions--but it's nice to have a band so big try to tie together these two niches, even if neither the R&B nor the indie rock winds up relating to the happy mainstream hooks of the group's hits.

For fans of Andrew Kenny's past work, Magnolia is a sobering counterpart to American Analog's gentle buzz, a soundtrack for those moments in which dreams give way to the slow ascent of morning.

Calling this an unplugged album is useful only in relation to what the group has produced in the past, but what the Mars Volta created on Octahedron will provide them with more range and opportunities in the future.

Even if everything seems built for the 12" format and then landed on an album anyway, Guetta's fans get all the well-done house music they desire, and then some.

While fans of Darker My Love's earlier albums may be a bit put off by this sudden sea change, Alive as You Are marks a pleasant sonic shift for the band, offering anyone willing to listen a love letter to San Francisco's psych-pop past and the sounds of the paisley underground.

It's always great to see a band that's able to tweak its sound without watering it down, and that's exactly what Stone Sour have accomplished here, showing that it's possible for hard rock bands to make their sound bigger without necessarily making it blunter.

While its parts don't quite come together in a way that rivals IRM, Stage Whisper is a welcome adjunct that celebrates Gainsbourg's skills in the studio and in front of an audience.

This is as dynamic a record as Benson has ever made, but trades some of the homespun charm and young hunger of his earlier work for a more expensive-sounding studio sheen.

While it's odd that The Origin of Love doesn't work as well in practice as it might have in theory, it still has enough bright moments to please most fans.

An occasionally thrilling, yet ultimately uneven set from a talented band in the midst of a huge transition.

Sudol's expressive voice (both sonically and lyrically) and her tasteful and innovative arrangements help to steer the narrative into more abstract realms than one would assume upon simply reading the press release.

This feels fuller, richer than any Chesney album in recent memory, but it's also unhurried and light, an ideal soundtrack for a long, lazy summer.

For all of its weirdness, this album feels more like a pop record than his debut, and while Auerbach certainly didn't scrub all of the dirt and grime off of the album, it feels a lot more put together, bearing a lot of resemblance to the Black Keys' later work.

If you're a free agent in the market for a band that delivers some serious melodic death metal without feeling the need to take itself too seriously, Halo of Blood is an album that you should definitely check out.

While much of Have Fun with God will be reserved for Smog and Callahan superfans, or those who loved Dream River so deeply they'd need to hear it in dub, casual listeners will find something to ponder in the mumbling percussion, deep basslines, and scattershot echo vocals of tunes like "Expanding Dub."

Ultimately, it's Faith's irrepressible enthusiasm and unbridled vocal ability that shine the most on A Perfect Contradiction, and having musicians like Pharrell and Saadiq around just works to sweeten the deal.

The energy she put into these versions helps make up for the vocal shortcomings and audible use of Auto-Tune.

Ultimately, Little Mix's stylish, decade-blending synergy works, and Get Weird ends up being a lot of fun.

The complex but tuneful standout, "Restless Summer," offers Color Film's best shot at a pop single, but for all of its craft and musicianship, much of Living Arrangements feels like an enjoyable, if somewhat rote, tribute to the very specific sound of another era.

red. As Light Return might not be the most inventive or exciting record the Telescopes have made over their long career of defying expectations, but it is the purest expression of their dark and twisted, noise-battered souls, and for that reason alone it is worth hearing at least once.

The tones, timbres, and sounds that draw listeners to this type of music are all there, but as a whole, Jaguwar struggle to establish their own voice on this debut.

The melodies are engaging, and the turns of phrase are typically sardonic, with song highlights arriving via the breezy but narratively decadent "Everybody's Coming Together for the Summer" and the winking opener, "Angry Man on a Small Train." It's also nearly impenetrable for anyone outside of the U.K., as it's immeasurably steeped in the region's culture and vernacular.

Sometimes the sounds feel a little too alien to decode, but when production spirals out of control for a moment, part of the appeal of 1 Time Mirage is listening to the production team reign their wild creations back in.

While the energy tapers off on the second half of the album, these midtempo jams are as addictive as the euphoric singles, providing contemplative balance and additional opportunities to showcase each inspired collaboration. What Is Love? was worth the long wait, taking the promise of "Rather Be" and topping it many times over.

In other hands, that much material could turn into a tedious slog, but Lil Baby manages to keep every moment fresh, finding a unique and unlikely midway between artistic inspiration and commercially viable entertainment.

While arguably overlong, The Painter not only feels heartfelt on occasion but offers just enough variety, mainly through its guests, to sidestep sameyness while sticking to his signature sound. Trivia of note: Orbit also did the album's painterly artwork.

Call it an age thing, but Siberia makes total sense for where Echo and the Bunnymen stands 20 years on as a band.

That I'm Not Bossy, I'm the Boss continues a string of strong, entirely enjoyable releases is a bonus for Sinéad's audience, but as evidenced by liner notes that proclaim "this album is dedicated to me," she's still doing it for no one but herself.

PersonA finds the group still offering music-festival-friendly fare, but of a nature that's more jammy than jamboree.

Constructed with flawlessness in mind, Galore succeeds in its ability to sound intensely produced and polished but never sterile.

It's this kind of focus on the ennui, the mundane tragedy that permeates many people's daily lives, that works as creative fodder for Angus & Julia Stone. Ultimately, it's that ennui, combined with the pair's heartbreaking sense of melody, that makes this album a delightfully sad yet engaging listen.

The minuses overwhelm the pluses, however, and the rampant mediocrity takes care of the rest.

Some of Still Corners' most intimate-sounding music, Slow Air's finest moments feel less like they're adopting the customs of a new land and more like they're adapting them to what they do best--capturing moods beautifully.

If some of the ballads aren't as distinguished as the livelier tracks, they nevertheless are as sharply crafted as the rest, and the end result is that It Won't Be Soon Before Long is that rare self-stylized blockbuster album that sounds as big and satisfying as was intended.

Where "Avenue B" was a pretentious mess, Preliminaires is flawed but significantly more successful.

While Campfire Songs isn’t nearly as dense or kinetic as Animal Collective’s later work would be, it shows off their penchant for layered harmony and experimental song structures, which makes for a fine piece of atmospheric headphone listening.

For Screening Purposes is worth checking out for those who like their music prickly but with an undercurrent of pop to it, too.

Their breed of futuristic pop is more polished than ever, and loses some of its edge with that increased emulsion.

While there is some appeal in this bright blast of sound, especially when he's in party mode--"One Beer Can" in particular recounts the aftermath of a raucous adolescent bash--it can also seem vaguely desperate, as if he's still clutching a reality that's faded into the past.

Perhaps the strangest twist about this record is how much of it sounds more crude and antiquated than the duo's first two albums, which were released over 20 years prior to this one.

She may be older now, but she still sounds like a little girl, which undercuts both the glistening, sensual midtempo grooves that dominate the album and the big, booming uptempo cuts that offer a change of pace.

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

White Knight is split fairly evenly between solid senders and odd detours, which just makes the overall package weirder: it has the bones of a good record but Rundgren seems disinterested in actually making a good record

Power of Peace is loose, but everybody brought their chops to the party. This is what happens when great musicians gather simply to see what happens and enjoy one another's company.

"The Other Ones" is out of place for its melodramatic decluttering of baggage, but the trio of "Pieces," "I Don't Love You Like I Used To," and "Home" come across as wholly heartfelt, respectively striking a rare balance of numbness and hope, expressing total devotion, and turning on the (ocular) waterworks. Legend is at his best when entertainment isn't his objective.

One of the livelier and better country records of 2006.

Talahomi Way's details can speak louder than its actual songs, but this isn't a criticism: here, O'Hagan and crew use those details to make an album that is equally pastoral and meticulous, and listening to it is like visiting a perfectly arranged topiary garden.

KR-51 is a project where Clare & the Reasons raised the stakes for themselves, and in most respects they've succeeded, with an album that's an audacious and beautifully crafted celebration of their individual creative vision.

What's delivered is another robust collection of business as usual, with the surprising diversions adding just enough dimension to the album to even it out.

A beautiful, if at times exhausting album, The Golden Age shows Lemoine is skilled at making music as well as music videos.

On the whole, Otero War finds the group relinquishing a trace of distinctiveness while sounding notably more comfortable in their own skin.

As a whole, Fixion is a logical progression for Trentemøller, whose music seems to cinematically expand and contract while remaining true to his chosen bailiwick.

Despite the array of reference points touched upon, they manage to maintain a uniqueness in their work that's both confrontational and entertaining. Bands like Breakfast Muff are reclaiming punk from its heritage status, and molding it in their own image. The result is anything but ambivalent.

Overall, Reduxer is as pleasantly surprising as it is satisfying, offering an exciting counterpart for fans of Relaxer, while providing 11 fresh reasons to appreciate the original incarnations for those who might be less familiar.

Overall, IC-01 Hanoi is interesting and shows that the band does have impressive range, but it's not quite an essential piece of the UMO puzzle.

Ultimately It's Only Me sticks to the formula that's taken Lil Baby to the top, but somehow fails to communicate the personality and creative fire that was hard to miss on earlier albums.

True, this is far from deep but Under the Skin proved that a deep Avril is a dull Avril. The Best Damn Thing, in contrast, builds on every one of her bratty strengths which makes for ridiculously catchy pop - the kind of music that provides a soundtrack for teens and guilty pleasures for everyone else.

It may not be Rogue Wave's best record, since Out of the Shadows still holds that honor, but it is the record that is the best at showing all the sides of Rogue the songwriter and Rogue Wave the band, and for that it is well worth checking out.

Vek is a self-made musician who embraces these kinds of flaws and more often than not makes them work to his advantage, and Leisure Seizure's independence and accessibility is a testament to that.

For those raised on dream pop bands and space rock songs, Some Sweet Relief sounds somewhat timeless, a 40-minute offering of neo-psych gospel that's more polished, more promising, and altogether stronger than most of the band's contemporaries.

Rubin skillfully retains a veneer of authenticity throughout Shangri La, adhering to the Dylan in Greenwich Village vibe of the 2012 debut and never letting the electric expansion feel like exploitation, but all this care is applied to songs that are deliberately slight.

In My World is an argument that the drugs are getting better, and maybe even too good, but it proves that freaky hallucinations are hard to string together, and that the impish can be irksome when clever is pushed to its limit.

Ultimately, The Getaway is a nuanced album, rife with journeyman craft and poetry, that proves the Red Hot Chili Peppers still have plenty of their own creative fire.

A few spins of the album will have much the same effect, and after a while you'll find yourself wishing that Goodman would ditch Vivian Girls and do La Sera full-time--especially if she and Hall can keep making records this wonderful.

V is a solid, dream-inducing, quietly dramatic step forward for JJ.

It doesn't take long to notice that the men of Camper Van Beethoven were having a lot more fun up north, while El Camino Real finds them playing with a technical skill that puts their early classics to shame but sounding curiously short on the joy and spontaneity that were once this band's trademark.