The softly spooked-out acid folk of The Pirate's Gospel is a captivating debut from Alela Diane, whose enthusiasm and ability for a then-extremely-fresh learner on guitar is quite something.

For those who find themselves lingering on the fringes after her debut, There's No Home is the greeting card to dive in with both ears and get your ears drenched in pleasure.

It may take multiple spins for a few songs to really find their footing with fans, but those people will surely be rewarded handsomely in the end.

It's a highly polished, professional sounding debut, with Lewis hitting all the right notes even when she warbles up and down the scale.

M.A.D.E. is Scarface doing everything right, delivering those cold, hardcore rhymes over uncomplicated, soulful beats.

It's a double-sided hook that clears the murkiness from the remaining five tracks, while simultaneously improving the first half (especially tracks like 'California Girls' and 'Please Stop Dancing') when spun for a second or third time.

Uneven as it may be, Jukebox is still a worthwhile portrait of Chan Marshall's artistry.

He can certainly sing, but years of providing seamless harmonies for Gibbard have given his pipes a clear, breathy quality that threatens to lull the listener into a trance during the album's final stretch.

Many of her fans will no doubt be delighted with this artful yet accessible return, and hopefully, those who embraced the younger, wackier, campy aspect of lang's persona will allow for the fact that there isn't anything close to that here.

Rain balances sophistication and edgy smarts with a winning mixture of grace and confidence.

Matt Costa's sophomore effort, Unfamiliar Faces, finds the singer/songwriter delving into similar territory to his 2006 debut, "Songs We Sing," crafting hummable, somewhat intricate AM pop-influenced tracks.

If "Love and Distance" was the album that pushed the Helio Sequence off the rails, Keep Your Eyes Ahead is the sound of the duo getting back on track.

The whining hasn't let up (see 'No Love' and 'Generation'), but the fun hasn't either. Credit the producers.

It may be considerably more commercial than their first album, but Promises Promises is, crucially, also much, much better.

A winsome and not entirely stable treat.

High-pitched coos gatecrash the song's chorus like they've just been kicked out of the Rolling Stones' "Sympathy for the Devil," and a harmonized keyboard solo injects a bit of the Steve Miller Band into an otherwise minimalist, Southern-styled slow jam. Such unexpected moves seem to be a new thing for Collett, and they combine to make this his strongest solo effort yet.

The album's not faultless: as with Deerhunter, Cox has the tendency to try too hard to be profound, wanting so badly to say something important that he sounds trite and forced, and untrustworthy, but when he's able to forget about conveying some kind of meaning and instead focuses on the actual music, his message--one of pain and love and feeling lost, of trying desperately to understand--is undeniable.

Backwoods Barbie might not break the bank out there, and it would take a good deal of marketing and luck for any of these tracks to hit the top of the new country charts, but it shows that Parton can still deliver the package in fine style and only the fools among us would ever count her down and out, no matter how many bluegrass albums she does.

You get a lot of elastic, post-punk guitar explorations (à la Mission of Burma)--as evidenced by such standouts as the album opening 'Your Movement' and 'Tremble.' But then just when you think you have the Shackelton lads figured out, the Joy Division-ish 'Soft Heart' comes peaking around the corner.

Still, the best songs have more than enough energy and creativity to prevent this album from being an Awkward sophomore slump.

This is not a remarkable album by any stretch, although its packaging is--it contains a punch-out mobile as a booklet--but it is a further step in the development of a singular and ever elusive artist who possesses a truckload of talent, but is still unsure of which direction to head to realize it all.

While it's never clear how much Snoop actually wrote, the ghostwriters he's admitted to hiring have the thug script down and rarely disappoint. What is disappointing is the woefully long track list, the redundant numbers, and the trimming required to keep from drifting off before the majestic closer, 'Can't Say Goodbye' with the Gap Band's Charlie Wilson, rolls around.

Eleventh Hour is certainly not a disappointment: Del's as good of a rapper as ever, and the way he fits his words into the beats, playing with his and their cadence, is truly spectacular, but he needs to challenge himself--and his listeners--more, lyrically and beat-wise, instead of relying on the same tried-and-true methods, if he really wants to continue his legacy.

Most of the time, however, the band's blazing energy and instrumental swagger is able to lift your spirits despite the depressing subject matter.

On Trouble in Dreams, Bejar and Destroyer have also shown that they can continue to write the literate, complex songs they and their audience love and expand and explore new melodic territory successfully.

NY's Finest is a good, solid listen from a deservedly respected member of the hip-hop community, but it's also nothing that will blow you away.

At times, The Odd Couple is a more beautiful record than its predecessor. But all too often Cee-Lo relies on the same sort of lyrical cipher as on St. Elsewhere, although none of them are as effective.

On Last Night, Moby is as blissfully out of touch with modern club music as he is current.