Hazed Dream is the band's subtlest album as well as its most accessible, and its low-key pleasures reveal themselves over time.

The album is executed so well it can nevertheless suck you in against your will. It's big and bright, shameless in its attempt to win you over, and -- given increased exposure -- that eager-to-please nature winds up ingratiating whether you like it or not.

Added up, it's a departure for sure, but it's a swerve that's easy to follow.

One thing The Versions does have in common with tribute albums is that virtually none of the remakes are preferable to the originals, but it rarely fails to fascinate.

This sense of adventure ties Varshons to those earliest Lemonheads records, but the group marries that spirit to Dando's exceptionally intuitive interpretive skills, turning the album into a bit of a rough, unpolished gem.

While the New York Dolls struggled to balance past and present on their previous reunion albums, Dancing Backward in High Heels is a product of the here and now as defined by two guys following their muse in their own way, which is just what they should be doing at this stage of the game.

Elysium is an interesting, sour, and insider-aimed dispatch from backstage, interrupted by some big moments that sound entirely commissioned.

Sometimes, it sounds like Surfer Blood don't know exactly what to do next--which is understandable, considering the massive changes and losses they've experienced. However, there are enough promising moments on Snowdonia to suggest that they'll figure it out.

The quick changes can be jarring, but by the middle of Aokohio, the staggered flow begins to normalize and the album becomes an environment of short attention spans and choppy reflections. Rather than the sometimes-crushing statements of earlier albums, the weight of Wolf's heavy lyrics is softened by how quickly one idea blurs into the next.

Brilliant! Tragic! is a little uneven in its mix of new and familiar ideas, but for a band as clearly defined -- and sometimes confined -- by its approach as Art Brut is, to start changing the formula is a big step forward.

Even if they quit after this, the album will stand as one of the best duet records of the era.

The album's subtle build from bleak electronica to ethereal alternative rock is a stunning accomplishment; his productions haven't maintained this kind of flow since the first Soul Assassins disc.

The album has a more polished feel than its predecessor Up a Tree, as well as more of an electronica vibe...

If Long has captured the style necessary to make him the next New Dylan, he hasn't quite figured out the issue of lyrical content.

Just as his Def Jam-era album tracks often outshined the singles, Nash is in top form here when he forgets about hitmaking, drops his guard, and produces gems that are scenes as much as they are songs.

While Rich's hyperconfident personality is in full focus, The World Is Yours 2 is elevated to a higher plane by its smart production and who's-who of guest rappers.

Frequent serious references to mortality make Port of Miami 2 his heaviest recording.

At times, the band appears single-minded in its determination to turn over a new rock, and the album suffers whenever Last Night on Earth focuses on presentation -- the polished production, the overdubbed handclaps -- instead of content.

Sour backpackers and over-scrutinizing fans that hold the Kidz in high regard may be disappointed by all the light-heartedness, but trim the fat and the party people will be rewarded with a vibrant, clever celebration.

I Sell the Circus is the debut album from Ricked Wicky, the latest in a long line of projects from Pollard, which finds him in a straightforward rockin' mood while also indulging his fondness for classic hard rock and progressive influences.

The album wholly warrants Snow Patrol's fame, presenting a band that aspires to pop/rock grandeur without developing the accompanying ego. As a result, this is the group's best work yet.

All this flair is a welcome reminder that, for all his vaunted blues purism, Gibbons remains something of a futurist, happily blurring the lines between the present and past along with obliterating the lines between cultures.

There's something admirable about the album's solemnity: the Lumineers are on a quest to be taken seriously, and even if they overplay their hand, the earnestness is ingratiating.

Deceiver of the Gods suggests that Amon Amarth may just now be hitting their stride, as it's an undeniably well-honed set, yet the band manage to flex their muscles well outside of the Draconian stylistic confines of the genre by remaining, like a true Viking horde, prickly, primal, and unstable.

No one's looking to Derulo for advanced stylistic hybrids or deep thoughts. When Everything Is 4 avoids those creative impulses, as it tends to do, it's easily Derulo's most pleasing work.

It's too bad the EP is saddled with a couple duds, because when it clicks and the music, words, and playing all get it right, one is reminded of the energy and fun that made the band worth checking out in the beginning.

The set ends on a gentle note in "Where We Start" -- so much so that it may make some scratch their heads and wonder where the cranky, diffident Gilmour has wandered off to, but others will be drawn into this seductive, romantic new place where musical subtlety, spacious textures, and quietly lyrical optimism hold sway.

Much of No World is so slight, tentative, and ill-defined that it easily slips into pleasant background listening for intimate encounters and soul searching.