Colonia may share with the Cardigans' late records that polished yet entirely too comfortable sound that reveals few insights, but it deftly presents Persson's uncomfortable vision of a world with little left to hold onto.

Asleep in the Bread Isle is an everyday suburban rap album, if there is such a thing.

Mean Everything to Nothing has its moments and shows Hull to be a decent enough songwriter, but there's ultimately too much outright mimicry on display and not enough originality for it to have any longevity.

Too intelligent and well-crafted to dismiss but too disjointed and self-indulgent to really embrace, Love the Future is equally frustrating and promising.

Willie's voice can sound a bit gruff and rough--this is as comfortable and welcoming as a familiar old leather jacket. It's no surprise that it feels good.

Too many of the songs settle into lackluster grooves, and pairing those grooves with Vermue's style-over-substance vocal affectations makes the album less than memorable.

Even if Ciara imaginatively develops the "Super C" superhero introduced in the disc's booklet, she and her collaborators will have to work extra hard on the next album to ensure that she does not stall in a creative cul de sac.

It's far from revolutionary and it's certainly not deep, but as often as not, Entertainment at least manages to live up to its title.

Shifting into metalcore territory is a tricky decision, since a lot of their initial appeal was due to the fact that they were making their own personal stamp on revitalizing punk--a genre that's becoming increasingly saturated with commercialism. Here, they seem less unique.

While Quicken the Heart isn't bad, its slide into the nondescript is certainly disappointing.

Amos doesn't record as much as most artists, and it must be tempting to give fans everything she can, but in this case, it's hurt her a bit. Still there, are many tracks here worth adding to one's Amos shelf.

Romanian Names holds the unfortunate and surprising distinction of being the very first John Vanderslice album to feel like just another John Vanderslice album.

A handful of similar tracks suffer from this same problem of ambition over inspiration, but for every miss, there's a hit.

This album marks the return of former bassist Twiggy Ramirez to the band, but as ever the Manson personality/persona towers over everything else, and his two or three musical ideas are repeated throughout the disc, with only a few exceptions.

It all adds up to a good but frustrating album of really solid highs and really annoying lows.

This is an interesting diversion giving insight into the band's coordinates.

Just Go, slightly more so than Coming Home, tends to be a happy (and comforting) medium between Richie's familiar approach and contemporary R&B.

Maybe the record could have been improved by splitting up the opening duo of songs, maybe a less fussy production job could have done the trick.

Pomegranates may need some more time to ripen fully, but Everybody, Come Outside! will still be a treat to some palettes.

As a whole, it's not one of their best records, considering the size of their discography, but it's not a bad little record. Fans will like it since the band is still shining as a tight unit and hasn't lost a step musically.

Divided by Night is indeed varied and polished, and it includes guest features by the bucketful, but it reveals again that, more than anything, the Crystal Method are merely clever regurgitators of the past, particularly chained to making extroverted dance music that never innovates and rarely excites.

Battle for the Sun, the band's sixth album and first with drummer Steve Forrest, is given a steel-reinforced production by David Bottrill, a sound that could conceivably be placed on mainstream rock radio if that format still existed, or if it were used as a vehicle for something else than Placebo's music, which remains resolutely pitched toward a niche audience, no matter how many little frills of horns or farting synths grace their guitar grind.

The result is an interesting, unexpected piece of work, devoid of a militantly commercial single like Empire's self-titled track, and lacking the shaggy Madchester vibes that Christopher Karloff brought to 2004's Kasabian.

Vines and Trying Times the seams are showing, which makes it a little bit harder to enjoy, even if there are certainly moments where all their craft and charm click, resulting in some fine pop that points out what's missing from the rest of the record.

On its own, listeners may be lulled to the chilly deeps of sleep, but paired with the accompanying DVD, they'll be wiping the salt spray from their brows and pulling long rows of kelp out of their teeth.

Joan of Arc's work on a whole generally tends to be pretty loose, but sorting through the remnants and mood pieces on Flowers can make "Boo! Human" seem absolutely cohesive in comparison. Oh well. It's still totally listenable and likeable.

It's a decent set of modern R&B, dominated by seductive slow jams, that stimulates a little more often than it fades into the background.

Some listeners may find this approach riotous, since the humor is pushed right toward the front, while many may miss how their original recordings blurred the lines between real rock and fantasy.

The bulk of Back and Fourth is more insular, though, serving as Pete Yorn's personal therapy rather than his audience's ear candy.

While Far is far from bad, it doesn't quite live up to expectations, either, based on all the talent involved in making it and how fully Spektor expressed herself on "Begin to Hope."

There's a lot of Busdriver on Jhelli Beam, while his themes and lyrics have become even more dense, which makes for a challenging listen that only fitfully rewards the scrutiny.

His debut for Domino, 2009's Insides, is his first record that many people will hear and it's a promising, but flawed, debut.

Like fellow abstract lyricist Kristin Hersh, her quill is aimed at the introverted, resulting in work that is both deeply personal and frustratingly impenetrable.

Rabid fans won't mind much; just make sure you're sold on Hell's Winter before taking this bumpier ride through Cage's inner turmoil.

All too often, that energy is lost when a talented young band like this enters the studio, and RAA do their best to transcend the limitations of their home recorded calling card, but that energy eating reaper follows Hometowns around like a cop car on a Saturday night.

At times, WWPJ do give into their dour side too much, and while there's no denying that their dynamic shifts and all-or-nothing climaxes pack a punch, songs such as 'This Is My House, This Is My Home' and 'It's Thunder and It's Lightning' get repetitive. Fortunately, as These Four Walls unfolds, WWPJ show that they can do more than just anthemic angst.

They have nothing on their mind other than making basic, black-and-white modern rock, and they do so efficiently on Leave This Town, a sophomore album that's every bit as satisfying as the first.

Because the sound is of paramount importance, this does succeed as pure radio-ready product, which is enough for Sparks to sustain her momentum if not enough to give her some kind of identity to build a career upon.

God Help the Girl should probably just be viewed as a flawed work or a semi-successful adventure by a solo artist who needs his band to be truly great.

Person to Person is a pleasant enough listen rather than a gripping one, somewhere between enjoyable inspiration and careful exercise, a flavoring in the general indie rock milieu of the early 21st century that, for the moment, can have no greater impact.

The influence of that 1972 double LP can be heard in the similarly homespun production of Under the Covers, Vol. 2 but where Rundgren was open-ended, Sweet neatly ties up every loose end with the care of a pop fetishist, making sure all the harmonies and guitar licks are in place, never adding any untasteful elements.

The record isn't a failure by any stretch; there is enough going on to make it at least worth a listen or two if you love the sound of 1990s American indie rock as much as Wye Oak do.

Alternating between fingerpicked acoustic and electric, the remaining tracks are hardly deficient of introverted charm, but with the exception of the semi-propulsive 'Rebecca,' the pace is sluggish at best, resulting in a collection of songs best listened to in threes, or all at once with one's forehead pressed against the window waiting for the rain to pass.

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.

Welcome to the Walk Alone ends up as neither a success nor a failure; instead, it feels more like a missed opportunity compounded by a bad decision.

Party Rock is an indulgent record with plenty of fun and immaturity, but a real need for a growing musical identity.

The performances are hit-or-miss--and many of them are trumped by Folds' own pair of songs--but the originality remains fairly consistent, yielding an album that should delight a cappella enthusiasts and, at the very least, interest the average Folds fan.

Chamber Music, with all its throwback collabos, only faintly reminds the listener of yesteryear, but track by track it satisfies with the core Wu members sounding purposeful and sometimes even united.

Sometimes, this approach is entirely too slick, particularly when the rhythms are pounding too hard on 'Wild at Heart' and 'You Said,' but at their best, Gloriana can evoke the forgotten charms of '70s studio-centric soft rock in both its mellow and rocking incarnations.

Unfortunately, despite a few great tracks and plenty of pounding productions, Blank hits a lot of familiar notes.

The fact that the end results sound similar to Go's machine-made rivals proves to be a double-edged sword, however, both attracting fans for its genuine approach and repelling others for its similarity to manufactured pop.

Loggins may indeed come across like a male version on the breezy charms of Colbie Caillat but that means he's pleasant, placid, and likeable which is, in the words of the album's opening song, good enough.

Megafaun are just as taken by quietly tortured dark-night-of-the-soul whisperings, lo-fi oddities, and shards of feedback shade as they are of banjos and summertime evenings, giving Gather, Form and Fly a bit of an unsettled edge at various points.

Jeniferever shows some serious potential on this album, but much of it remains to be realized.

Edward Sharpe & the Magnetic Zeros have crafted a love letter to Laurel Canyon and all of its quasi-mystic juju that is as infuriatingly contrived and retro as it is forward-thinking and majestic.

The bottom line here is that Keep on Loving You may jar some longtime Reba fans on first listen, but despite the record's sound it's all her in this mix, and they will more than likely celebrate this.

It's overrun by the dissonance of half-step progressions and minor-chord crunch, and it's constantly excruciating.

It's a creation that's slicker and sleeker than the debut, but fortunately, it's not quite at the expense of Caillat's simple charms.

Nurses proceed to provide exactly what is expected of them and what their audience presumably expects.

Conditions runs out of juice during its second half, where the anthems of the A-side give way to minor-key ballads and middling rock.

What she undoubtedly is, is a pro--she sells these subdued glitzy productions, she makes boring songs interesting, she remains a forceful, tangible presence.

Hooks never mattered to the Used anyway, so having a higher grade of execution helps underscore the Used's point, which ironically just makes the whole thing uglier and harder to take.

Call it sloppy pop (or poppy slop), but even with the raw aesthetic and tinny resonance, the songs are entirely sweet and hummable, sometimes to the point of being unshakable.

Even if it's not the most persuasive mood album, once the party has kicked into high gear Rebelution will certainly keep it going.

Time to Die is far from a bad album, but unpredictability still suits the Dodos better than trying to fit into a more recognizable indie rock mold.

They sound more focused than on any of their ten previous studio offerings. Certainly, what's here is not for everybody, but this jumpy, well-constructed little set may even get Phish fans excited.

This is a much better record than their debut--and that in itself is an impressive feat.

Ride Again isn't a raucous rock & roll album, it's a relaxed good time, a little bit of cheerful nostalgia that's pretty charming.

Yorn and Johannson cut their album long before She & Him, but surfacing in its wake, they can't help but seem a bit like the polished, polite answer to the twee, precious charms of Zooey & M. Ward. Break Up does trump Vol. 1 conceptually, chronicling the dissolution of a romance as a series of duets, and Scarlett is a more-than-worthy foil to Yorn.

Draw the Line is essentially another cog in the folksy wheel he's been spinning since "New Day at Midnight."

Brand New may not be completely comfortable with the slow stuff, but Daisy's willingness to experiment is what makes the album so interesting, even as its furious rock songs continue to pack a punch.

When they stretch farthest away from their origins, as they do on the plodding power ballad 'Sudden Movements,' their sound takes a turn for the best.

Despite the occasional flaws, the album shows that Vernon (along with the guys in Collections of Colonies of Bees) has not only the desire to branch out but also the necessary skills.

Juliette Lewis dials down the aggression, amps up the introspection, and adds a dose of weirdness on her third album, Terra Incognita. As always, what Lewis wants to achieve is apparent and admirable, but not necessarily quite what is achieved.

Though Zero 7 are still not in the same class as Air (or even Phoenix), Yeah Ghost is an enjoyable record that shows them apparently on the way to something more unique.

This is essentially a thinking man's album, though, more indicative of the band's breadth than its ability to make hit singles.

Moneen's 2009 release, The World I Want to Leave Behind, is certainly a sign of the times in the rock world--intricate musical bits are combined with emo-like vocals, and in the process, the group never forfeits the importance of melody.

Apart from the breakneck 'Must Be Santa,' which barrelhouses like a barroom, Dylan doesn't really reinterpret these songs as much as simply play them with his crackerjack road band, dropping in a little flair--restoring "we'll have to muddle through somehow" to 'Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas,' singing the opening of 'O Come All Ye Faithful' in its original Latin--but never pushing tunes in unexpected directions.

Sigh No More is an impressive debut, but one that impresses more for its promise of the future than it does its wildly inconsistent place in the present.

Pearl and Eatherly don't escape their past entirely on Break It Up, but they're well on their way to waving goodbye to it.

It'll doubtless put some smiles on some faces as it goes, but it neither reaches for more nor tries to be anything less. Perhaps it is enough, but does it have to be?

Spiral Stairs remains a pleasing, if not especially exciting, singer/songwriter and Real Feel showcases both of these sides effectively, rambling on nicely as it strolls through its songs, but never quite getting into any interesting territory.

Her raw vocal skills remain impressive, as does her taste in soul, and even if this feels off-kilter, not quite achieving a balance between retro and modernity, it does beat with a messy human heart, one that was subdued on Introducing, so perhaps she did need to break free.

The overall mood of the album feels a bit broken and battered, but comes off too polished to let that feeling drive home.

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.

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.

This EP marks a vital point in POBPAH's artistic development, a chance to see that they aren't willing to just sit back and repeat themselves. It's a pretty good listen, too.

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.

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.

The relatively stripped-down setting winds up letting the rockers of the album’s first half latch in, particularly the rather propulsive “Trouble,” the nimble “She’s Alright,” and rolling “I Got Your Number,” and does keep the succession of anthems and ballads on the second half from seeming too languid.

Har Mar Superstar's never been known for solid full-lengths. He's a song-based artist, and Dark Touches features some of his best singles.

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.

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

It's an experience, to say the least. At the same time, The Great Misdirect is the type of overblown record that asks the question, "Is there such thing as being too ambitious?"

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.

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.

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.