Sale el Sol never once sounds disparate or overworked -- it's sunny and easy, its natural buoyancy disguising Shakira's range and skill -- but listen closely and it becomes apparent that nobody makes better pop records in the new millennium than she does.

With such a tight, urgent sound, Songs for Singles is an EP that'll give Torche fans enough new music to whet their appetites, but it's definitely going to leave them hungry for more.

The stated intention for The Way Out was for each track to be "its own rabbit hole," and the album does indeed manage to survey an impressively disparate set of worlds and modes.

Song for song, it's as strong as any of their records -- if anything, these 11 songs are the tightest they have ever been -- and Stuart Murdoch remains faithful to the aesthetic he essayed at the outset of his career, finding sustenance in the fine details, his obsessions carrying the weight of passion.

What It Means to Be Left-Handed shows Pierce and company continuing to embrace a variety of artistic impulses that become their own enjoyable interpretations.

Surely, it's a revival for Leon Russell, who has spent decades in the wilderness, but it's not a stretch to say The Union revitalizes Elton John just as much as it does his idol: he hasn't sounded this soulful in years.

Fly Me to the Moon, Rod Stewart's fifth collection of American pop standards, finds him singing such classics as That Old Black Magic, I've Got You Under My Skin, Beyond the Sea, Fly Me to the Moon, and Moon River.

Condors is an impressive mini-debut that's just long enough to show what the band can do, and suggest that they're well on the way to making all of their ideas gel into a cohesive whole.

While some of the tracks sound like rough sketches that were simply given a bit more shading, most of Senior captivates as a full-length experience.

Though almost nothing on the record will appeal to the people who liked their earlier work because of the girl group connection, fans of cotton-candied pop sung by girls who sound like they live on a diet of helium and gummy bears will find Earth vs. the Pipettes just about perfect.

Not everything here works, not by a long shot, but the overall impression is that Liz Phair has finally reconnected with the spirit of Girlysound--which, contrary to popular opinion, wasn't all serious--and is on her way to once again being a compelling artist unafraid to take risks.

Released two years after the international breakthrough hit Only by the Night, Come Around Sundown continues Kings of Leon's journey into the upper echelon of mainstream pop/rock, with super-sized choruses and guitar heroics thrown in for good measure.

Love Remains is a striking debut, one that speaks to how we listen to and remember music we love, and the impact it makes on everything else we hear.

All in all, this is more than a holding action between real Girl in a Coma albums -- they've chosen good songs, and put their own spin on them.

The Incredible Machine is a collection of (mostly) competent if unremarkable songs, held together by slick -- often sterile -- production.

Eskmo is clearly a major talent, and if his muse takes him in odd and inscrutable directions, it's almost always worthwhile to follow and listen.

Tt's refreshing to hear him so candid, even if that forthrightness is festooned by enough bells and whistles to wake the dead.

This is too short and scattered to put on his top shelf, but it comes awfully close, which is downright astonishing considering the circumstances.

Swanlights, the fourth full-length by Antony and the Johnsons, reveals that 2009's The Crying Light was a stepping stone that furthered his sophistication as a songwriter, arranger, and singer.

Every song on Charleston has been ironed flat, so there are no unseemly natural inflections, something that Rucker doesn't need but which helps make Charleston, SC 1966 a gleaming example of polished, pressed, modern country-pop.

On Post Electric Blues, they're a worldly pop/rock band, showing off their Scottish roots on the Celtic numbers and channeling the American heartland.

Ultimately, the EP is fast and fun, but its songs are so fleeting that even if the concept is a cool idea, the end result is too disjointed to be anything more than a one-listen novelty.

The only hint of intrigue comes 40-odd minutes into the record, when Youth takes up his mighty bass for "Chicago Dub," which briefly changes the pace for the better.

Though It's What I'm Thinking, Pt. 1 finds Badly Drawn Boy still getting back on his feet, it has enough encouraging moments for fans to stick around until he hits his full stride.

Recitation is one of those records that cannot be rushed, but instead must be experienced on its own terms, and anyone who's able to relinquish control and let Envy steer for a while will be rewarded.

Saying The Grand Theatre, Vol. 1 is a return to form unnecessarily belittles the last few Old 97's albums that came before it, but calling it their best album since Fight Songs is just about right.

Whoever they are, $o$ is utterly unique and downright dazzling if you dream of a Grand Guignol hosted by P. Diddy.

The guitar riffs are appropriately fuzzy but a tad messy; the harmonies are well-placed but imperfect. Stoltz is a vintage enthusiast, but he's no copycat, and To Dreamers' best quality is his ability to reinterpret those sounds for an audience weaned on lo-fi albums.