Forget the sophomore jinx, this set delivers on the promise of that first album and then some.

Way Down in the Jungle Room includes the material from From Elvis Presley Boulevard, Memphis, Tennessee and Moody Blue, and a second disc of outtakes and alternate versions to create the definitive document of this often overlooked period in Presley's career.

Their self-described "acoustic-live remix" can be a little tentative at times. Nevertheless, it's a worthy showcase for Torrini's excellent body of work and achieves a level of quality that many live recordings fail to reach.

It's hard to say if Sallee gets a lot out of a little or intentionally little out of a lot here, but the album is at once rich, restrained, and beguiling.

This seamless blend of aesthetics is also why Resistance Is Futile works musically. First, it comes on strong-all sharp edges and gleam-but once the blare fades, the melodies and their accompanying sweetness lingers, leaving a lasting impression behind.

Longtime Districts fans may well be surprised by the surfaces of You Know I'm Not Going Anywhere, but after a few listens it's clear this music has as much (or maybe more) that connects it to their past than that which separates it from their larger body of work.

From the outset, Weight of the Sun feels less immediately accessible than Modern Studies' two previous albums and suffers a bit from its mid-tempo lull and more contemporary palette. Given some time to decant, however, it reveals hidden depths and more interesting layers than are at first apparent.

The piece is essentially a longform space lullaby, and it's as soothing and tranquil as one could imagine.

Considering the extended album drought, Here for It All is surprisingly concise like Caution, though the number of directions it takes is reminiscent of the singer's hourlong statements.

The second half of The Else is so good that it's a little frustrating that the entire album isn't this solid. Still, there are more than enough good moments to keep longtime fans happy.

Fall to Pieces justly wallows in its grief, a document to loss and tragedy. This sonic bloodletting is by no means an easy or fun listen, but an invitation to grieve alongside Tricky.

As unconventional as it is relaxing, Zebra is perhaps Arp's most inviting sound-world yet.

Maturity suits the group, and "Pink Wonton," "Sparks," "Paul's Grotesque," and "Head On" have all the makings of breakout singles with their fun, memorable choruses and subtle yet clever musicianship.

As convincing as Welcome Back to Milk's fury is, Du Blonde's rock is no more straightforward than Houghton's version of folk was.

Lungu Boy has some great material, but having risen to the top with back-to-back successes, Asake appears to be experiencing a few growing pains.

Despite the clear connections, it's not completely derivative. Cage the Elephant are maturing and their songs have a new heft to them, which may drive away some old diehards but will certainly attract new followers.

She has the talent and courage to speak from her heart and make her ideas heard. Anyone who has ever had a (broken) heart will find something they can understand on Good Advice.

Though it takes a few listens to get to the heart of Heartworms, fans who have stuck with Mercer for this long will find it time well spent.

La Cucaracha is the sound of Ween cutting loose, reveling in the lower budget and expectations an indie label brings, and playing music that simply sounds good.

Andrew spends TFCF discovering sounds that previous incarnations of Liars somehow never explored, whether it's the oddly majestic psychedelic flamenco of "Cliché Suite" or the brittle piano pop of "No Tree No Branch," one of a streak of surprisingly catchy songs on the album's second half. Amidst all the change, Andrew holds onto some quintessential Liars qualities.

Beet, Maize & Corn is a dramatic reinvention of the High Llamas.

Another handsome, shaded, and satisfying work from an artist that has reconnected with her muse.

Alternately sparse and lush, Red Dirt Girl can be seen as a companion piece to 1995's Wrecking Ball... The diverse production only adds to Harris' earthy songwriting, adding interest to what could otherwise be lulls during the more subdued songs, and really showcases the understated lyrics that the singer has slowly become recognized for.

If label executives of 1982 were brought to the present day, they'd hear at least six singles here.

Redemption's Son achieves a sophisticated marriage of traditional songwriting craft and avant-garde production.

A solid heavyweight of ten skillful tracks, each one more unlike the other in form and feat, yet similar in ample amounts of prowess and poise.

Whether intentional or not, there's a certain glee to FOB's pop absurdity because their cheerfully careless genre-bending has no reverence: fitting all these sounds and jokes into a pop song is all a game and it's one listeners can share, whether they're playing spot-the-allusion or just succumbing to the sugary hooks clustered within one track.

It's also nice to hear vocals like Carey's which gently suggest a Brian Wilson sense of harmonizing instead of fully pushing the point--refreshing given so many of Carey's compatriots in indie-leaning rock music.