This is for all the listeners who liked Phish's good taste, eclectic nature, and Anastasio's playing, but never liked one of their albums.

So while Aqualung may not be doing anything on Memory Man that is wholly different than all of the Coldplays and Rufus Wainwrights of the world, there is a certain down-to-earth charm inherent in Hales that his peers often lack.

Ultimately, AFI have lightened up the band's darkly-sexy vibe on Crash Love and delivered a yearning, perfect pop/rock crush of an album.

What really sets Disturbed apart from other 21st century metal acts is their ability to consistently re-package and resell their sound in a way that avoids redundancy.

What he doesn't really have is a strong hook to pull listeners into the album; there's nothing surprising or unexpected or exceptionally hooky, just 12 polished slices of contemporary country that will surely please longtime Brooks & Dunn fans largely because it doesn't feel all that different than the duo.

She's meant to be be a superstar and she's never seemed as comfortable with her calling as she does on Blown Away.

OK, it may not be not that timeless, but it's still high quality work from a youngster who is off to a fine start in the indie rock game.

It might not be the grand arrival showcase that was expected but Papoose hasn't fallen off the "ones to watch" list quite yet, even when he's been on there longer than most anyone else.

His father's son through and through, Baxter Dury not only sounds a bit like his old man Ian, he is attracted to a similarly chintzy production that pushes attention away from the arrangements and to his words. This is especially true on 2014's It's a Pleasure.

Early Public Enemy was formatively innovative, but on this latter-day record PE explore and deepen that signature not unlike master jazzmen -- or the Stones, for that matter--and that's not only worthy of an album, it's groundbreaking in terms of hip-hop.

The Lexicon of Love II isn't exactly a return to form, since their 2008 album Traffic is a hidden gem in their catalog, but it does serve as a reminder that Martin Fry and ABC created one of the best albums of the '80s, if not ever, and they still have what it takes to come within shouting distance of those ridiculously lofty heights.

Inner Journey Out isn't made for all listeners or all purposes, but anyone interested in a journey down a peaceful river of sculpted sound is advised to investigate its properties.

Odyssey makes their transition from flag-waving fashionistas to serious, rewarding band smooth and entirely believable.

Ladyhawke is unlikely to win any awards for originality but you'd be hard pressed to find a more consistent and hook-laden debut all year.

It's an enormous-sounding, splashy album.

Sometimes, Vol. 4 :: Slaves of Fear feels almost too successful at what it sets out to do, but as bleak as it gets, there's something special about its empathy and honesty.

At first, Wild Nights' shifts from song to song could give unsuspecting listeners whiplash, but even if it isn't as cohesive as Girls Like Us was, its moments of brilliance show how much they've grown.

There's nothing particularly wrong with any of this, but despite this expanded stylistic and instrumental palette (and some notably lush, lovely vocal harmonies), it's hard to escape the sense that this album is, ironically, even more of an indulgently dabbling affair than its home four-tracked predecessor, which at least had an appealing simplicity and directness of approach.

Once Upon a Little Time may not be as immediately gripping as How Animals Move, but it grows on you, slowly and insistently, creating its terrain.

Once you reconcile yourself to the idea that Lerche has made a jazz-pop record, the songcraft, laid-back approach and Lerche's sweet vocals might just win you over.

Funk Wav Bounces impresses not just with the marquee names, but with how effortless, communal, and fun Harris makes it all feel.

The album may not offer the radical reinventions of Goldfrapp's duo work, but it doesn't need to -- Alison Goldfrapp pioneered these sounds, and on Flux, she's still doing them with effortless elegance.

This isn't a record where the songs and arrangements are at the forefront, it's an album that's all about the show and spectacle. Its pleasures are slightly fleeting but they're pleasures all the same.

It's distinctly focused with an urban appeal while rooted in rock, and a bit comparable to the likes of Poe, Fiona Apple, and Beth Orton.

It certainly doesn't sound that much different from a Mojave 3 record, if not quite as excellent due to the less than prime quality of some of the songs.

As distinctive as the band's sound is, it's not particularly varied, and two-thirds of the way through the album things may start to drag a little for those who aren't deeply indoctrinated in the ways of the Polyphonic Spree.

There's a sense of heady nostalgia here -- but one more deliberately adolescent and tender than the schlock-infested oldies radio station trends of most soundtracks of this ilk.

Even if it's not quite as strong a debut album as Pink Grease's prior work suggested it might be, This Is for Real really does have a lot of hedonistic, cleverly mindless kicks to offer.