"Take It Easy on Me" (produced by Timbaland and J-Roc), "Give It 2 U" (Dr. Luke and Cirkut), "Feel Good" (will.i.am), and the deluxe edition bonus cut "Pressure" (the Cataracs) are nothing like the title track's undeniable disco-funk groove, and not one of them is among Thicke's best. They do, however, lack desperation and help convey the album's prevailing casual, lighthearted feel.

Corgan repeatedly buries his threadbare melodies beneath squeals of guitar that are too processed to either soar or sear. More than anything, it's this digitally dulled sound that saps Zeitgeist from any impact it may have.

It's much more stripped-down and loose compared to the glossy polish of The Joy of Sing-Sing.

Although die-hard Beatles fans might see the album as a bit blasphemous, the Flaming Lips' treatment of the classic work makes it clear the band have a great respect for the Fab Four's legacy and influence, making the album a wonderful distraction that provides fans with a window into the influences of one of rock's most enduring and joyously weird bands.

This New Day is an excellent companion to Out of Nothing, with only a slight drop-off in quality.

Some listeners may pine for the less streamlined, less electronic, arguably more personable style of their debut, which after all peddled a distinctly different shade of retro-pop nostalgia, but those willing to move with the times (or rather, the 20-year revival cycle) will agree that the 'Beat have crafted another winner.

An album that breaks little new ground, but further entrenches the Method as America's finest producers of dance music made for rock & roll people.

The Music is an incredible effort and a brilliant example of where rock could be headed.

This is a band album, and a solid one at that.

Everything comes to a head on "Closure," an extended 11-minute smooth-funk jam that throws all the album's strict structure out the window. Its presence not only draws attention to how Maroon 5 can vamp, it also highlights the discipline behind the rest of Red Pill Blues.

There's a great and more conventional singer/songwriter album waiting to get out here, but The Lateness of the Hour appears to be more concerned with creating a bold statement of intent than in showcasing Clare's undeniable talents.

Hope St. certainly won't be the most fashionable or credible album of 2011, but it's a consistently strong collection of old-school tunes which will provide the ideal soundtrack for any road trip, whether it's to California or to Cowdenbeath.

Nico & Vinz are lite bubblegum worldbeat pop, and will try on any fashion just as long as it might bring them a hit.

By singing these songs as sweet and straight as the dusty old standards on Glad Rag Doll or the bossa nova on 2009's Quiet Nights, she demonstrates how enduring these once-dismissed soft rock tunes really are.

Ultimately, it's just this kind of self-flagellating, dark-hued rock aesthetic that's worked for Papa Roach for well over a decade, and despite whatever passing styles or trends in pop music they've ignored in the process, it's a sound that seems to be working for them.

Too many other tracks have one too many verses, could have used bridges, or been left off altogether. Ol' Glory may reveal a bigger, more multi-dimensional sound for Grey and Mofro, but at what price progress?

Covers winds up feeling a bit like an outdoor concert on a sunny summer Sunday afternoon: something that is wholly relaxing and not in the least surprising.

The lyrics are generally focused around breakups, loss, and loneliness, and while those subjects are well-trod territory, Redway sings them with conviction, and his passionate vocals complement the tracks nicely.

Few vocalists as young as Hudson have a voice that is as versatile and expressive, proficient enough to pull off a multi-dimensional set of R&B songs, yet her debut is as tricked out as that of an artist with a small fraction of the talent.

Even if Lies for the Liars has the appearance of a crossover album, a la The Black Parade, it doesn't have the substance.

Miller's big challenge is that he follows in a long line of suburban college rappers who have thrown up whack mixtapes like they were yesterday's punch bowl, but this memorable debut steps right around that mess and suggests that the kids are not just all right, but all the way live.

Often compared to Ed Sheeran and Ben Howard, Chaos and the Calm shows James Bay has the style and the ability to stand on his own, and it's the work of a new performer with an impressive potential.

The band's detractors will probably complain that the template remains firmly in place, and the band is aimlessly trekking through well-trodden terrain, but by returning to their roots, Bullet for My Valentine seem to have reignited the spark that made their early work so vital.

2 Chainz simply doesn't sound as inspired as he normally does, as this short set lacks the madcap wit and energy that flow throughout previous albums of much longer duration. A recharge and change of direction clearly seem necessary.

Anywhere I Lay My Head doesn't quite work, but it can't quite be dismissed, either.

The album was reportedly rush-released due to hackers threatening to leak the album unless he paid them a million dollars; the album wasn't fully mixed yet, making it seem raw and unfinished. (Trippie stated plans to later release a cleaned-up mix of the album.) On top of its sheer roughness, the album is as bloated as 2020's Pegasus, lasting 76 minutes and 25 songs.

Presenting a piece of musical theater as a stand-alone work can be a bit difficult to grasp upon first listen; that said, it does reveal itself ultimately to be a very nearly dazzling endeavor that rewards patience mightily.

The band sounds ready for battle, but too much time is spent slogging through the swamps of defeat, many of which are adorned with forgettable choruses and melodies that arrive at dead ends, only to bash themselves against the wall hoping for some kind of merciful respite.

All the charm and fun to be found of "Looks" ends up being pulverized by this bland ambition, and Fist of God ends up being just a loud, inspiration-free, truly disappointing dance album that fails to capture ears or move feet.

The customary meeting with dancehall stars, "Where You Come From," closes out the set in fine style, but doesn't prevent the album from contending for Khaled's most disposable project.

2023's The First Time is a 20-song album that more or less revisits the tones and styles Laroi laid out over the three previous years.

As with the first volume of Electronica, the second is commendable for its scope and its attempt to bridge several generations of electronic music, but as a listening experience, it requires a fair amount of cherry-picking.

Now feels fussy, as if every element was triple-guessed because the pressure to have a triumphant comeback was too great.

Ultimately, it's this kind of life-is-short pop energy, imbued with Murphy's well-curated sense of time and place, that helps elevate the Wombats' Glitterbug from just a one-crazy-night soundtrack to an album that might stick with you for years to come.

Gilmour and Mason know this is their farewell, so they're saying goodbye not with a major statement but with a soft, bittersweet elegy that functions as a canny coda to their career.

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."

As challenging as it may be for many to stomach the constant and incredibly explicit sex, violence, and drug references, there is a stunning album lurking beneath that deserves recognition.

It is these more upbeat electric moments on the album that truly stand out. That said, much of People Problems is filled with more acoustic, ruminative moments that, while pleasantly melancholic, detract somewhat from Oh No! Oh My!'s more driving pop inclinations.

The bulk of Gunna's boastful wordplay is less inspired than normal, though that shortcoming is mitigated by a handful of bravely reflective and revealing deep cuts.

A prevailing quantity of the tracks is either forgettable or regrettable. Nas often sounds unenthused.

While it required only slight modifications to his approach--brighter tones and simpler arrangements, allowing room for singers and MCs--it's still surprising that much of The Vision sounds like an effort to assimilate into commercial airwaves.

The dividing line between these two types of songs is a subjective one, to be sure, but even devoted fans would probably agree that the bulk of The Bundles--the first recorded output from a longstanding though intermittent collaboration between these two leading lights of anti-folk--lands sadly but squarely in the latter category.

It's enough of a reinvention to suggest that Britney will know what to do when the teen-pop phenomenon of 1999-2001 passes for good.

If Younger Now seems slightly scattered as it flits from song to song, it nevertheless adds up to a portrait of a pop star so confident of her swagger, she doesn't bother with such niceties as old-fashioned flow.

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.

Resembles what a new Rush album would've sounded like.

Ultimately, Day I Forgot lacks the emotional poignancy and experimental sonic character present on every track of Musicforthemorningafter.

Not quite the big comeback DMX needed at this point in his quietly sagging rap career, Grand Champ regardless has its share of highlights.

Sticking close to the synth pop influenced material of their debut, the album sports noticeably higher fidelity, catchier tunes, and an improved illustration of Dykes' vocals.

While this is a forward-thinking and cerebral affair, as Yoav has a love of dance music, he often works with funky grooves and rhyming lyrics that should appeal to fans with a club-oriented aesthetic.

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.

On Idol, McPhee always favored middle of the road over modern, and Unbroken returns her to that course, bringing her somewhere within the vicinity of Paula Cole (who co-writes the title track), Rachael Yamagata (who co-writes “Keep Drivin’”) and Mandy Moore’s stylized ‘70s throwback, flavored with the slightest traces of modern sounds, including a vague borrowing of Beyoncé phrasing.

While not everything works on Let the People Speak, it has enough originality and energy that it bodes well for wherever Clark and Black want to go next.

While the band's sound here leans toward the more grungy end of hardcore, P.O.D. have always evinced a knack for hooky pop songwriting, and the best tracks here are the more melodic, pop-oriented ones.

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.

He's got talent to spare, but at this point he's swimming in an idyllic creek, not a raging river, and no amount of howling will banish demons that have yet to be summoned.

The whole affair is ultimately an exercise in late-'90s indie rock ephemera, and like countless other acts before them, Drowners seem poised to fade away before they burn out.

Cute he may be, but he has charisma that lasts no longer than a GIF, as Handwritten makes painfully clear.

It's definitely the warmest-sounding Corrs outing to date, and the austere studio setup lends itself to the band's penchant for pairing pop acumen with Irish balladry, which they do with great aplomb on heartfelt cuts like "Son of Solomon," "Dear Life," and "Live Before I Die."

Can't Say I Ain't Country is a successful blend of the cosmopolitan and country, sounding as assured on soulful slow jams and percolating crossover pop as it does on the breakneck twang of "Y'all Boys," a duet with their protégé HARDY.

Without fleeting moments of bad taste, Perry does indeed sound mature, but she's also not quite as fun. That's a conscious choice, though. Smile is intended to evoke memories of her frivolous younger days while pointing toward a sustainable pop future.

A mellow blend of low-key, late-night, left-field pop and yearning R&B, the release boasts a number of intriguing high-profile collaborator.

It does feel like a b-sides, here's-what's-left collection at times, for better or worse. However, for fans clamoring for more of anything from Berryman, Buckland, Champion, and Martin, this'll do the trick.

The genre-blending charm and sweetness that made Brushfire Fairytales and On and On so nice doesn't change that much, but does it really have to change?

Scab Dates is yet another intriguing window into the Mars Volta's world, instead of just a live album holdover.

These are slick but straightforward productions that mix a deft synth and drum program studio vibe with a warm, overall earthy vibe.

Coziness certainly has its appeal--it works as balm and a tonic--but it's hard to shake the feeling that Zac Brown Band overplays their hand somewhat by insisting they've reconnected with their roots. All those lyrics feel calculated and defensive, undercutting the grace of the music.

Wwhile it's hard to argue that Evolution lives up to its moniker, the familiarity of the architecture is lent considerable gravitas by the overall execution, which as per usual, leaves nothing but perspiration in its wake.

A game of "name that influence" runs rampant from the album's start to its closing seconds.

If Torches scratched the surface of twenty-something angst, then Supermodel takes that exploration a few steps deeper, revealing a more introspective, enigmatic, world-weary tone.

It's not perfect, and it's often affected, but it winds up being endearing because of her earnestness.

Altogether is perhaps the lightest and most pop-oriented release in the band's canon, doubling down on bright guitar tones and jazzy chord voicings, and relying even more heavily on lush synth parts to augment their sound. While its feather-soft tone flirts with the smooth banality of easy listening, parts of the album are far more clever and well-structured than first impressions might suggest.

It's a macho, muscular attack that fits the braggadocio of the title yet it's hard not to shake that this alt-metal grind feels like a forewarning of a Y2K annihilation, not something suited for a decade into the new millennium.

All in all, Mass Gothic have made an album of serviceable, if not shinning, indie pop. That said, it is a step forward from their debut and an overall solid effort from which it's possible to glean some truly compelling moments.

It's an entertaining, vibrant, and artistically filling album, so consider it a "presents" effort and enjoy the show.

For now, as long as she makes records as good and as much fun as When the Sun Goes Down, everything will be fine.

Snow Patrol still have the potential to hit the sweet spot between U2's stadium baiting, Coldplay's icy elegance, and Elbow's art school-infused, north country soul.

Aside from the occasional flourish of their post-punk gothic past, most of the record is the dirtiest and heaviest hard rock they've recorded since the '80s.

Unfortunately, Oakenfold isn't much of a pioneer any more, and though it's clear his ear for a solid production hasn't deserted him, Bunkka sees him following the trends instead of pushing them.

2000 Years is a guitar-ripping dissertation --only it's sealed inside a musical envelope that's addressed to the likes of Adam and Eve.

Occasionally, there's a slight surprise--Buckley attempts Bukka White's Delta stomp on a slippery, slurred version of "Poor Boy Long Way from Home" -- but usually, You & I feels of piece with the rest of his early work.

Unfortunately though, Return to V isn't a back-to-basics record, and there isn't a single landmark to pick out from its 18 tracks.

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.

The better surprise is his heavy dose of talent that doesn't necessarily dazzle but does charm, and is deep enough to keep things interesting for a whole album.

YG's bouncing between styles gives I Got Issues a scattered flow that pushes the best tracks to the forefront and makes the weaker material feel all the more tedious.

Functions more as a sign of what's to come, setting Greyson up for a better album somewhere further down the road.

Of the production teams, Vincent Pontare and Salem Al Fakir (aka Vargas & Lagola) deliver the best product, elevating "Peace of Mind," "Tough Love," and "Excuse Me Mr Sir" above the pack. A generic middle stretch is bookended by Tim's other highlights, which benefit from a group of high-profile guest stars, of which there are two clear standouts.

Lavigne once again seems to be grappling with emotions just beyond her reach, never articulating her angst or crafting a melancholy melody, making Goodbye Lullaby feel affected, not genuine.

There's an unquestionably seductive flow about Young the Giant's debut that's sure to lure in many wandering postmodern rock children, looking for alternatives beyond the same old blockbuster bands name-checked above.

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.

While ERYS occasionally drags over its seventeen17 tracks, it's an immersive experience that finds Jaden at his most vulnerable, processing his messy young adult feelings into a relatable and sonically exciting way.

A secondary release in execution and intent, this is recommendable only to serious fans with a justifiably insatiable curiosity for what the artist creates.

An hour-long LP with little joy or even relief, one that is nearly static in energy level despite a carousel of producers.

In the end, Curtis is entertaining but only impressive in that 50 can run in place and still be on top.

While they offer few surprises on Hyperactive, they also offer no embarassments, and it's likely that any fan still faithfully buying records nearly a decade after Moseley Shoals will enjoy this record.

If you haven't discovered Stereophonics' live show yet, Live from Dakota is a good place to start.

Dirty Pretty Things move their music forward with this album, but they've sacrificed their clarity to achieve that.

So, it delivers exactly what Archuleta promised on the show: something sweet and safe, utterly old-fashioned and forgettable.