The lyrics are odd throughout the album but when they're dressed up with swooning harmonies, they always seem to make enough sense.

Appropriation is the name of the game, so there are few musical surprises in the 39-year-old's veteran beats.

A meandering drag.

The opposite of a sophomore slump, Wash the Sins Not Only the Face is sleek and spectral, and finds Esben and the Witch casting their spell even more successfully.

There's an ease to this record that's not often heard on Sheryl Crow's albums and its light touch is thoroughly appealing.

Edward Sharpe & the Magnetic Zeros have crafted a love letter to Laurel Canyon and all of its quasi-mystic juju that is as infuriatingly contrived and retro as it is forward-thinking and majestic.

In-fashion vocal effects, which Summer certainly does not need, detract from a handful of these tracks, but as a whole, the album won't have trouble pleasing fans who just want to hear their queen have a blast and tear it up.

Rain Machine gives Malone an appealingly mellow yet resolutely independent identity for his solo music; even if it may not be for fans of his other projects' more accessible material, it's nice to hear a full album of what he can do on his own.

Ultimately, Grouplove's Never Trust a Happy Song is a cohesive if ramshackle crowd-pleaser, full of melodic double-lead vocals, handclaps, ringing electric guitars, and staccato synth parts that tips a hat to '80s dance-rock while still retaining the band's obvious love of experimental '60s folk-rock.

Babylon introduces a likable pop sheen to the mix that both elevates and homogenizes the end product.

Despite its brevity, the songs strike with such languid, metered force they manage to slow time down, stretching an EP's worth of darkly ambient dream pop into a deceptively epic micro-journey.

At times, Between the Walls is a frustrating album, but more often than not, the risks About Group take pay off in expressive, rewarding music.

While Cynic's songwriting here is far from simple, their ability to create cohesion between the many elements at work in their music is a boon to the listener, providing the opportunity to enjoy the depth and complexity of the music without needing to spend an excessive amount of time trying to make heads or tails of it.

Overall, this is a generally charming debut with a very stylized sound and some solid material within.

For the most part, Silicon works, delivering strange sonic pop candy that feels a bit too distant to warm the heart, yet is strangely comforting in its isolation.

A record slicker and straighter than its predecessors. Call it maturation as much as a shift in aesthetics.

The slower stuff often turns sticky--but the group wears their heart on the sleeve and, somehow, that tendency is more endearing as the Maddens turn into middle age warriors.

Fans wishing for a full-on return to the glory of early days may not find their reward, but 15 years into their career, the Bronx have matured into their craftsmanship and can both rock and write harder than most of their younger peers.

One does have to wonder if the songs would have had more impact if they were a bit less produced and mixed. Ultimately, the fault lies with everyone involved and their combined efforts lead to an album that is nice to have playing while idly doing household chores, but is unlikely inspire too many repeat listens.

The rest of the EP, outside of the brooding "Burying Davy," leans closer to that countrified feel, and while it may come off a little contrived at times, these outtakes will no doubt help to satiate fans until the group reconvenes for album number seven.

Icky Blossoms succeed in showing many different sides of dance-infused indie rock with their debut, but there's an unsettled feeling that suggests the trio members weren't entirely sure where they wanted to go with the record.

One of the many impressive aspects of the Capitol Studio Sessions is just how balanced Goldblum's skills are as he deftly moves his audience from perky vocal standards to swinging instrumental numbers--each transition aided, of course, with some very charming stage banter.

At times, it seems like Born Ruffians elude pure pop magic--sometimes by choice, sometimes by chance--but they way they bounce off of each other and lock together again is never less than impressive, and one of the greatest joys Say It offers.

Its versatility is quite dazzling, making it one of the best records in the Romweber catalog.

Here Comes Science is another fun, educational triumph.

This is an album of highly compositional, slow-burn epics that build with Kubrick-ian intensity and attention to detail.

Fans of Badly Drawn Boy's Have You Fed the Fish? and Doves' Some Cities should understand Adventures in the Underground Journey to the Stars.

The performances are strident and lean, suggesting the players are every bit as invested in delivering the best reading of Ludwig-Leone's complex and often gorgeous songs as he was inspired in creating them.