Perhaps if the album actually had some kineticism to its eclecticism, or at least a hook or a tune, it would earn its wannabe evangelism, but the untrammeled indulgence turns this into a gaudy multicolored circus.

Mockingbird Time is a simple but richly rewarding example of what the Jayhawks do better than anyone, and serves as a potent reminder that they're one of the finest American bands of their time.

Entertaining castoffs, but not his best work by far.

Sweeter benefits from greater textures in his surroundings, stronger hooks in the melodies, and, for once, a sensibility that doesn't sacrifice the present for the sake of paying respect to the past.

All admirable attempts at honesty, yet these confessionals bear an uncomfortable resemblance to Lindsay Lohan's autobiographical A Little More Personal (Raw).

If Jones' performances and compositions over the years have touched on themes of yearning and the past, with a soft echo into the present day, then it stand all the more to reason why the album title and the cover art--a guitar-playing cat, looking at the moon--should sum up the feeling of The Wanting so well.

Elsie functions best as a display of Fallon's underused bottom register and acoustic songwriting skills, proving that slowing things down once in a while can still be a punk rock move.

Wolves in the Throne Room continue to do the genre proud with contributions such as this.

The album sounds effortless and truly organic in the best sense of the word, like four people blending together to make one perfectly formed sound.

Seasons on Earth is a poetic, thoroughly engaging set from a now-mature songwriter, whose confidence in her musical language is as poetic as it is authoritative.

The end effect is ultimately liberating, letting Nurses explore something more than the late-2000s indie cul-de-sac they'd found themselves in previously.

A hypnotic, wickedly sexy bit of folk-funk delivered at the tempo of a rambling, acid-soaked desert caravan, the track--as with the rest of Minnesota--leaves you pondering Jennings' poetic intent like a dark mirage spied in the late summer sun.

In addition to proving once and for all that Hughes can stand on his own as a rock & roller, Honkey Kong meets the main requirement of all of the previous albums Hughes has appeared on. It's a rockin' good time.

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.

It contains the power and dynamics and splendor of her very best material, but because it is a work of classical crossover, any expectation of pop hooks or singalong choruses will be met with disappointment; consequently, its sophistication, elegance, and poetry will reward anyone who takes the proper time to absorb it.

Heritage, for its many excesses--and stellar conception and execution--is a brave album. It opens the door for Opeth to pursue many new directions and reinvent themselves as a band.

Given what a mixed bag tribute albums usually are, Dedicated is not only a surprise for its consistency, but a shining example of what they can--and should--be.

If The World Is Just a Shape to Fill the Night came out in a year when it seemed like there were even more sensitive folkie records than ever before, it also succeeds more than most of its contemporaries by virtue of its differing reference points.

Black and White is a refreshingly personal, authentic, and fresh take on a British urban scene that was starting to become slightly stale.

This may be Ladytron's most difficult album, but it's also one of their most cohesive.

The good news is that this album proves they are top-level purveyors of pop. The bad is that the eccentricity that once flowed freely feels forced.

If they keep making records as good as Mountaintops, they will have totally earned their gold watch and pension when they call it a day.

Nick would benefit from getting his feathers a little ruffled -- just a smidgeon of the lean country-rock of The Impossible Bird would go a long way -- yet there's still plenty of charm in the old crooner.

What follows is a lovingly balanced set of rural rockers ("Street Fighting Sun") and dirt road ballads ("Girl in a Coat") that sound about as far from the murky introspection of 2010's Destroyer of the Void as one would expect from a band that continuously tries to reinvent themselves within their own psych-folk/alt-country/indie rock universe, and almost always succeeds.

Era Extrana's lavish electro-pop proves that Neon Indian can be more than just chillwave.

Indeed, many of Portamento's songs are kind of miserable -- or at least they would be, if these knowing, glum lyrics weren't paired with naïve melodies and tempos that are too brisk to be mopey.

Three albums in, the young singer/songwriter sounds brave and confident yet breakable and guarded, and while A Creature I Don't Know may not be the bolt from the blue fans and critics were hoping for, it's most certainly storm born.

So, Own the Night is mood music but the aim isn't amorous; it's nothing more than a spot of relaxation, which doesn't quite amount to compelling listening no matter how immaculate the execution.