Go Away White sounds like the four were trying one last time to reclaim the idea of Bauhaus as band and ethos from all the many limiting clichés heaped on it, something which the album title, taken from the song "Black Stone Heart," slyly hints at.

Despite the missteps, well over half of Robotique Majestique is terrifically entertaining; it just seems like the hit-to-miss ratio could have been so much higher without much more effort.

It's an album meant to be discovered and lived with, revealing its jokes and its beauty over time.

It demonstrates that Jackson is as comfortable with the poppier side of country as he is with the harder stuff, and he can deliver it without seeming as if he's pandering, a feat that is almost as impressive as those generic detours he's taken in the past few years.

Saturnalia is mysticism and hedonism, saints and sinners, dark and light, but this is no clear-cut Manichaean collaboration. Both Lanegan and Dulli represent this, both contain all the good and the bad they sing about, sometimes at different moments but very often together, and it's that joined duality, that very disturbingly human quality, telling us things about ourselves we'd rather not acknowledge, that makes the album so absolutely alluring.

Not since "LP5" has being impressed been so obviously secondary to enjoyment.

At times, it's hard to hear much unique about them. Then again, the boldness of Red Yellow & Blue--both the colors and the album--can't be denied, and Born Ruffians' energy does spark something special occasionally.

They're old-fashioned, but in the best sense: they're in it for the long haul, which the superb Warpaint proves beyond a shadow of a doubt.

An album that accepts its imperfections as a part of its charm, and, all things considered, a pretty irresistible release.

It may sound at first like the makings of a mediocre goth album, but the band's combination of a taut, tense, elegant delivery and poetic lyrics breathes life into each of Red of Tooth and Claw's songs.

Asking for Flowers leaves no doubt that Kathleen Edwards has arrived and made an album that's funny, startling, poignant, and (once again) worthy of repeated play.

Most of the time, however, the band's blazing energy and instrumental swagger is able to lift your spirits despite the depressing subject matter.

While it may not be as striking an artistic statement as its predecessors, the general tone of easygoing bonhomie makes Transnormal Skiperoo a decidedly satisfying release, and the simple fact that it's an album's worth of fine new White material is in itself cause for plenty of contentment.

It's a tighter, less primitive album than its predecessor, but as such, it has a lot more to offer as well.

This, though, is the kind of nice, safe album a listener wants to like badly, but whose flaws ultimately leave one fumbling for the skip button on repeat listens.

Culture clashes never sounded so good.

Ladyhawk just aren't memorable enough to stick in the mind as they could.

One can't help but wish the 15-track set list included more numbers like 'Frankie's Gun,' which features some of Ian's wittiest lyrics and the brothers' spot-on imitation of the Band, but it's hard to find fault in this collection of earthy ballads and barroom jams.

It's clear that Goldfrapp doesn't miss the style the pair perfected on their last two albums, nor should they--this is some of their most varied, balanced, and satisfying work.

The likes of 'Never Letchu Go' (a sweet, glistening ballad), 'Luv' (carrying a brisk, feel-good clap-and-bounce), 'Rollercoaster' (suitably jittery and giddy), and 'Can't B Good' are as innocent, universal, and inviting as anything else in Janet's past.

Immediately moving and yet rather bewildering, New Amerykah, Pt. 1 is an album that sounds special from the first play, yet it will probably take years before it is known just how special it is.

Beach House's dark moods have more shades, and even a little bit of light, making them all the more compelling.

Backwoods Barbie might not break the bank out there, and it would take a good deal of marketing and luck for any of these tracks to hit the top of the new country charts, but it shows that Parton can still deliver the package in fine style and only the fools among us would ever count her down and out, no matter how many bluegrass albums she does.

It resonates with emotion, tenderness, and a sense that she has found comfort in life and her songwriting that may have been missing before.

NY's Finest is a good, solid listen from a deservedly respected member of the hip-hop community, but it's also nothing that will blow you away.

Maybe Mick Collins can't save the world, but he's got plenty of worthwhile things to say on this album, and his global angst beats Bono's for sheer entertainment value any day of the week.

Fans of the fuzzy, decadent and over-driven version of the Raveonettes can be happy that they have their band back; nastier, prettier and better than ever.

The Golden Age may simply be the Eitzel and Vudi show, but that's more than enough to make this a rich and rewarding set of songs whose gentle surfaces belie their troubling strength.