The Weight of These Wings isn't produced like a country-pop album, so it demands attention and rewards close listening. It is by no means tight, but its excess is also its asset because immersion reveals different pleasures with every spin.

If the riffs don't always sink in deeply--and if the entire production feels slightly monochromatic--what impresses here is the thought and musicality within the compositions and the performances, elements that have always been at the band's core and shine brightly on Hardwired... To Self-Destruct.

Even if Woman sometimes sounds more like two EPs than a cohesive set of songs, it's still an enjoyable album--especially when Justice use their flair for looking back creatively.

On his third album, Mars, joined primarily by old comrades Philip Lawrence, Brody Brown, and James Fauntleroy, sheds the reggae and new wave inspirations and goes all-out R&B. This is less an affected retro-soul pastiche--like, say, The Return of Bruno--than it is an amusing '80s-centric tribute to black radio.

It takes nothing for granted. The guitarist accounts for every sound and impression from his instrument and surroundings here, allowing the listener deep inside a sound world at the moment of its creation.

Packed full of confident exploration, sonic wizardry, expert guitar manipulation, and tight songcraft, this album of "leftovers" is as good as most of their contemporaries' best work.

It's an exhilarating rush, and even for a band that had never made the same record twice, it comes as a bit of a shock after the Men had been inching toward sounding like Bruce Springsteen or Tom Petty.

Even if Slugger might appeal more to Speedy Ortiz fans than Top 40 diehards, hearing Dupuis seek intimacy and independence is never less than pithy, fun, and thought-provoking.

This is no nostalgia trip or callous comeback. It's a giant exclamation point on the end of a brilliant career. It's also a tribute to the everyman genius of Phife, a widescreen look at the record-making skills of Q-Tip, and most importantly, it's a pure, undiluted, joyous thrill to have the Tribe back and still sounding this vital.

In general, the album focuses more on texture and fluidity than memorable tunes, so listeners aren't likely to find an earworm here, but they may find themselves humming along just the same.

On the whole comforting without seeming eager-to-please or, worse, becoming dull, Arms feels like a refresher of sorts, both for the band and for listeners.

It's a disappointing turn of events for the band, the kind that might lose them a bunch of their fans, while failing to win them any new ones in return.

Lady, Give Me Your Key contains expository notes by Thomas as well his in-depth interviews with Beckett and Yester. The sound is far better than acceptable considering the original sources, and the material is a true boon for Buckley's most devoted followers.

As a fully absorbent headphone experience, there is plenty to uncover, but like its title suggests, No Further Ahead Than Today works just as well as a mindful, almost meditative experience.

It all makes for a more focused--but far from simple--album that's a gorgeous, confident step forward for Illum Sphere.

Though hushed, lush, and intimate psych-folk may not have been anyone's first choice for where Hanson's path might lead next, The Unborn Capitalist from Limbo is beautiful and strange, and proves to be a trip well worth taking.

Ruins is an undeniably heavy bit of business, and if given time to work its magic, it will both infect and inspire.

With their debut album, E create urgent music for chaotic, uncertain times.

Though Body/Head reject the notion of definitive versions of their songs, No Waves might be the album that captures their spirit to its fullest. Equally taut and flowing, this is improvisation at its instinctive best.

At no point during the album do Hamilton and crew feel like they're phoning it in, but the visceral moments are fleeting, and often tempered by melodic detours that fail to swing back around to assess the damage.

The whole point of doing acoustic versions is usually to lay bare the material, deconstructing it down to its roots, but for the most part, Acoustic feels a bit too polished and adjusted.

Mr. Entertainment and his bombast do not disappoint. The Heavy Entertainment Show is his most invigorated album in years, a truer return to the pop realm than 2012's Take the Crown.

Pavo Pavo have achieved a collection that eschews the obvious, being undoubtedly hip yet simultaneous geeky in its references, and the resulting work is a real gem.

The "uh oh"s that punctuate "Hyper Dark"'s shattered balladry hint at Jessica Rabbit's state of emergency, while "Torn Clean" is one of the band's prettiest songs yet. Contrasts like these have been Sleigh Bells' modus operandi since the beginning, but Jessica Rabbit's mix of brashness and finesse proves they can still thrill.

While the production is just a tad too polished to feel as gritty as Miller's best '70s works, the music is nevertheless in that vein and many of the songs are quite good, particularly the gospel-drenched Elton John number "Where Do the Guilty Go?" and the swaggering "Way Past Midnight" (performed with Lewis).

Romare's disjointed sound takes some getting used to, but it's often bewitching, and Love Songs, Pt. 2 is his best effort yet.

Highway Songs encapsulates Pajo's life experiences into a poignant travelog, and considering all that he's been through, it's a life-affirming work.

Sting sifts through familiar territory with songs of protest sitting alongside songs of yearning and love and it all adds up to record that's simultaneously unassuming and revealing: through its modest nature, 57th & 9th stands as testaments to Sting's inherent gifts as a songwriter and recordmaker.