It's ultimately a fitting platform for his brokenhearted reflections.

Overall, it's a pretty somber affair, conjuring up images of humid, ashtray-filled midnights spent gazing out of a tenth story window, contemplating whether or not the fall would kill or just cripple you.

Life in a Beautiful Light, at its essence, is the sound of an artist looking for her own voice amidst the deafening roar of her influences.

While anyone hoping for more of the same old Fear Factory will find a lot to love about The Industrialist, those who have been hoping for something different might find that the album isn't quite what they were looking for.

All in all, this makes for an album that, despite containing plenty of drama and angst, feels self-restrained by itself, making the whole thing seem conflicted instead of confrontational.

A few listens to Mama confirms that Wells knows how to make a compelling record, but primarily as a producer and arranger; as an artist, she could use a mentor to focus her talents.

For the serious Adams enthusiast, this is a nice bonus to a solid album from the ever prolific, often unpredictable singer/songwriter.

Icky Blossoms succeed in showing many different sides of dance-infused indie rock with their debut, but there's an unsettled feeling that suggests the trio members weren't entirely sure where they wanted to go with the record.

The band has a dedicated following and long-term fans will probably find much to enjoy on United We Stand. Those new to the band might find the album's relevance questionable at best.

It's surprisingly mellow and restrained.

Babylon introduces a likable pop sheen to the mix that both elevates and homogenizes the end product.

This is an album that hints at plenty of promise for the future, but most of it has yet to be realized.

This isn't really a Cinematic Orchestra album--it's a compilation of pieces ("songs" would not be the right word) by Grey Reverend, Dorian Concept, and Tom Chant, and Austin Peralta, plus three tracks by The Cinematic Orchestra.

When they're on a roll, Guantanamo Baywatch deliver some ripping surf tunes, and they clearly know how to deliver a good time with a beat you can dance to, but Chest Crawl is never quite as exciting as it wants to be, and the flat, confined sound of the audio doesn't help one bit.

Havoc and Bright Lights is as soothing as a Sunday afternoon nap or a warm bath: it's music for when you know you're right where you want to be.

Though Infinity Overhead isn't exactly a return to form for Minus the Bear, it does find them moving back toward what they do best, and is a step in a promising direction for fans hoping for the band to return to the more vigorous sound of Menos el Oso.

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.

Anastasis will more than likely please longtime fans--and to be fair that is who it seems geared to--rather than win many new ones.

For the most part, The Soul Sessions, Vol. 2 does feel right: it has the form and sound of classic soul while never acknowledging that R&B continued to develop past, say, 1972. For an audience that agrees with that thesis, this is fun.

Matthew E. White's Hometapes' debut, Big Inner, is as frustrating as it is cosmically transcendent.

The Vaccines have crafted a perfectly acceptable sophomore record that neither helps nor harms them, which is probably exactly what they wanted.

It's this kind of mellow eclecticism that has helped Greenwood to develop such a devoted following, and it's his music's sticky, molasses-like sweetness that keeps those fans coming back for more and more.

Elysium is an interesting, sour, and insider-aimed dispatch from backstage, interrupted by some big moments that sound entirely commissioned.

Stein and Brock still seem to be working out their garage and pop influences in their guitar work; they don't deliver a fully satisfying fusion of their influences, but instead split the difference between jangle and crunch, watering it all down in the process.

The more adventurous shifts in style aren't without merit, but feel more curious than exciting.

There's nothing outstanding here but fans of the band will have no complaints, and for newcomers it's as good a starting point as any, with arguably the same ratio of clever understated brilliance to uninspired mediocrity as any other phase of their discography.

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.

Tomorrowland is the disruptive, chaotic, creative process of the artist revealed; it's full of frustration, anger, conviction, and excitement, all worn plainly on its tattered sleeve.

Sometimes things get a little too sweetly sleepy, but at its best this is a handsome, enjoyable listen.

Two albums in and Mumford & Sons still sound like a talented outfit fused to the starting block, paralyzed by the thought of having to truly race for their lives.

Straying far from home, Tomahawk Technique isn't an awful Sean Paul album, but it is an odd one.

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

Oh No I Love You feels softer but it also is more adventurous and satisfying, the sound of a pop obsessive finally letting himself indulge in the weirder areas of his imagination.

YokoKimThurston feels more focused and risk-taking than some weekend distraction between friends. Sonic Youth have never shied away from releasing indulgent noise jams in the name of art for art's sake, but this album ranks above the best of their non-rock experimentation, and adds a new dimension, with both Gordon and Moore stepping back to serve as supporting noisemakers for Ono's one-of-a-kind voice.

Flying in the face of his public persona, this is a sprawling (could be tighter) and humble (could be more persuasive) Deadmau5 album and one best suited for established fans.

Though not all of the band's experiments necessarily pay off, the album feels like a worthy proving ground for the ideas that will take the band boldly into the future.

The whole program bounces back and forth in this way, sometimes impressing with complex and compelling beats and textures, then disappointing with relentless repetition of uninspired ideas.

Some judicious editing on the band's part would have made this a worthy follow-up to their first two excellent albums but as it stands, it's more of a confused and confusing record that is hard to recommend to anyone except fans who came on board when O was released.

Ultimately, Circles is pleasant and even fun in places, while being somewhat tedious and even boring in others.

The Toronto trio is just a ball of heavy genres, lumping together noise rock, post-punk, hardcore, no wave, or any style that might punish a pair of eardrums.

For the majority of the other songs Lee Spielman runs the show, screeching street-sick lyrics about the crime-ridden area surrounding their Sacramento practice space.

There's nothing overtly bad about Beacon; it shows that Two Door Cinema Club still have a remarkable knack for winsome melodies and harmonies set to kinetic beats. It just doesn't have the spark that Tourist History had, even if it's a more accomplished album overall.

While it's a pleasant enough listen, the entire album falls short of the potential opulence hinted at by its best tracks.

Diluvia offers up a perfectly rendered snapshot of the cresting East Coast indie pop scene, conjuring up images of nomadic laptop studios, vintage bicycles, endless stacks of tattered Tor paperbacks, and heavily tattooed, non-smoking urbanites noshing on locally grown produce.

In some ways, The Connection is perhaps the band's most contemporary-sounding album, though it still remains reverent to the nu-metal sound of the late '90s when it comes down to the overall feel of each tune.

For enthusiasts or obsessive fans, this unpolished look in will be a treat, but for everyone else, the album is not without its highlights but little more than a glorified practice tape.

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.

With Monster, Kiss hit the mark best when rewriting the sound they developed as youngsters and when they keep it simple, predictable, and fun.

It's a sonic monument to marvel at, not a piece of art that's asking for your engagement.

Skynyrd are making sturdy, old-time rock & roll for an audience that's likely peppered with Tea Partiers, the kind of Middle American worried that the world they knew is slipping away, and Last of a Dyin' Breed provides a bit of a rallying point for them: it's true to their roots but living in the moment.

Union is a pleasant listen, but never quite reaches the anthemic heights the band is trying for.

The album is executed so well it can nevertheless suck you in against your will. It's big and bright, shameless in its attempt to win you over, and -- given increased exposure -- that eager-to-please nature winds up ingratiating whether you like it or not.

As it stands, its mix of tiny triumphs and incomplete ramblings will make all but Friedberger's most die-hard fans long for a Fiery Furnaces reunion.

Music from Another Dimension! is no worse than Nine Lives. It may lack a single as immediate as "Fallin' in Love (Is Hard on the Knees)"--or the subsequent "Jaded" from 2001's Just Push Play--but it faithfully follows Aerosmith's '90s blueprint, getting nothing wrong but never quite feeling right.

Musically, the production never veers from the glossy, by-the-numbers approach of mainstream pop.

Sirens perhaps works best when it's not totally in thrall to grunge and the band allow themselves to enter unchartered terrain.

There are points throughout these works where Tesfaye is distinctively gripping, supplying deadly hooks and somehow singing for his life despite the cold blood flowing through his veins.

18 Months shows Harris to be a solid producer with an easily identifiable sound.

Overall, Medicine is an enjoyable diversion.

It gets closer to the spirit and sound of what Hucknall loves.

For the most part, Silver & Gold stays true to Stevens' predilection for kitchen sink, lo-fi chamber pop, but he plays fast and loose with the formula.

Take the Crown features Robbie doing what Robbie does best--writing and performing effortless pop music--but not at his best.

Even though they don't quite have the fire that they used to, this more fully realized sound shouldn't have much trouble keeping their fans happy.

Artistically, she's still coming into her own.

She's best when playing it kinetic and in complete violation of good taste, so whittle this one down by half for the ultimate in bird-flipping, rave-rapping, and repercussion-free living.

O.N.I.F.C. lands somewhere between the growing pains of an artist forced to develop more quickly than he's ready to and material simply less inspired than the hungrier, more excited sounds that came before.

Our Nature is too long and just not unique enough to really stand out among all the artists treading similar ground.

Silly, savage, and willfully schizophrenic, Nookie Wood is at its best when its creator is channeling his more pastoral works.

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

This is a step forward from the MC's previous effort, but it's been six years since the he has made an album that must be heard.

Depending on the vantage point, it's either a logical progression or a creative dead end.

Wretched & Divine is a solid album of neo-hard rock that might just be the thing your inner Crüe fan has been looking for..

If you can get past that feeling and embrace the polished, shiny surfaces, and satin-jacketed AOR clichés, then Love Sign delivers a pleasing dose of nostalgic, good-time (almost) rock & roll.

On their Dogs Eating Dogs EP, blink-182 return as a deeper, more mature-sounding band.

True North shows flashes of their earlier work, and is a step up from their last album, 2010's The Dissent of Man, in terms of aggression.

While it makes for pleasant music to have on while you are sleeping away the afternoon in a cubicle or fighting insomnia late at night, the album is something of a letdown for anyone who, not unreasonably, came to it expecting something a little more interesting from Schnauss.

Depending on your predilection, it will either bore the crap out of you, pass on by like a rest stop without a vending machine, or reignite the flame for a band that has always celebrated, as Lowery sings on 1989's "All Her Favorite Fruit," the "fecundity of life and love."

The occasional burst of incredible, disposable pop goes a long way, but sadly not long enough to make Christopher an entirely engaging experience.

Adding the pluses and minuses, it's clear that Waiting for Something to Happen isn't a failure by any stretch, but it is something of a disappointment.

The endlessly bending array of guitar tones that make up Yeah Right still sounds raw and unrefined, trying to lock its unwieldy buzzing and blurring in with Everton and Garcia's gift for pop melodies. While the record isn't without its moments, these warring elements often do more to obscure than complement one another.

Lighter and more colorful than North, News from Nowhere begins sleepily and then flits between spacious and cluttered moments, often within one song.

Ultimately, Anna is something of a return to form after Falcon, but still lacks the spark of the Courteeners' early days.

Though Bullet for My Valentine still have just enough post-hardcore and screamo in their sound to keep metal purists from coming completely around to their way of thinking, Temper Temper feels like a gateway album into thrash.

Thirst is stylistically ambitious and often quite successful for a debut album, but while the rest of the ingredients are there, Carter Sharp needs to get his vocals whipped into shape before Waves of Fury can be as nasty as they want to be.

Though Donkey Punch the Night isn't the best place to jump into Puscifer's work, it's a well-crafted and thoroughly entertaining EP that will definitely keep Keenan's fans hungry for more.

Stereophonics seem loath to leave all that they know behind, so Graffiti on the Train remains distinctly earthbound for all its big aspirations.

Sometimes, as is the case on the lovely yet slight "Bright and Still," the simplistic lyrics transcend naiveté and venture dangerously close to obtuse, but for the most part, Arnalds shows a pretty decent command of the language.

Pale Green Ghosts has a little something for everyone, and while all of the over-sharing can be a little overbearing, Grant's huge, expressive, and oddly comforting voice acts as a sedative, turning even the saddest, raunchiest, and most uncomfortable turn of phrase into a caress.

Like good goth, this is painful and exclusive, full of moody anthems and baritone melodies that won't cut through the static until the fifth listen or so.

Sound City: Real to Reel sounds exactly like what it is: a bunch of old rockers jamming in a studio. Often, this is quite enjoyable, as they're all excellent musicians playing through a top-notch board, but the songs do have a tendency to drift away from the point, sounding like exceedingly well-executed first drafts.

A little more passion in the vocals and songs that are actually about something would have made The Happiness Waltz a triumphant return, instead it feels like backtracking.

It does indeed have light shade and a nice melodic bent that counters the slightly desperate rock & roll found elsewhere on the album.

Birthdays is so fragile and broken that listening to it without signing some kind of non-disclosure agreement feels borderline voyeuristic.

Even though the music apparently went through a significant studio process, it's difficult to shake the feeling that it would be preferable to hear the original compositions while witnessing the production.

Their clichéd soundbites aside, there's much to enjoy on this typically ballsy and no-nonsense follow-up to 2011 breakthrough Pressure & Time.

That Shelton can pull off this big, swinging bravado isn't much of a surprise--when his voice trills electronically on "Small Town Big Time" he makes it sound like a joke--but there's just a little bit too much of the schtick; individually the cuts work fine but they overwhelm not only the gentler moments ("Sure Be Cool If You Did," "Do You Remember") but cancel each other out over the long run.

Listeners willing to pull out a shovel and dig through the layers are bound to find something new each time they listen, but for most newbies, a simpler album would be a better starting point.