Ya Know? is a loving and generous tribute to a beloved hero of the New York rock scene, but the results never match the energy, focus, and sheer rock & roll fun of even The Ramones' lesser efforts, and it doesn't work as well as Don't Worry About Me.

Apocalyptic Love never tries too hard, so it winds up satisfying on its own limited scale.

Though it never feels disjointed, it never feels fully realized, either. In the end, it's hard to tell exactly what the album is aiming for, but taken as another rowdy set of tunes from a living legend, Night & Day delivers from both sides of whichever dichotomy it's grappling with at any given moment.

Vol. 1's heavier layers of glimmering guitar, celestial synths, and twinkling percussion flourishes serve more to create distance between Caulfield and the listener than convey that earlier intimacy in a new way.

Its lack of more compelling compositional ideas and some of its ham-fisted production problems are balanced by the fact that Santana is not coasting on his rep any longer; he's trying, and he's playing the hell out of the guitar again.

The album comes up short in the song department and doesn't quite get by on its abundance of free-love signifiers.

The album is never less than pretty, but it's so slight and drifting that it's difficult to grasp.

At 17 tracks/diary entries, some of which feel like cast-offs from previous sessions, it feels a little bit indulgent, but maybe, considering the subject matter, that was the intention after all.

The decision to rein in the forward-thinking, more ambitious, and colorful musical and textural steps she made on her last recording makes this rather monochromatic affair feel somewhat longer than its scant 33 minutes.

It's assuredly the group's most congruent outing, and for nice background music that's not overly engaging or challenging, Diver will satisfy your needs.

While it's hard not to wish there were a surprise or two along the way, the familiar warmth certainly has its charms, too.

One Day I'm Going to Soar hardly justifies the almost-three-decade wait, but it's as marvelously idiosyncratic as any longtime fan could hope to expect.

As it stands, the album will at the very least provide a better measure of closure to Saint Vitus' turbulent but heroic career than the aforementioned, despairingly pitiful, mid-'90s demise managed to, and the group's important legacy certainly deserves that much.

Language is short on originality, but Zulu Winter's polished musicianship and warm confidence may be enough to win over listeners who enjoy the bands they reference here, and when they do succeed in shaking things up it's enough to leave listeners wanting more.

Once fans shift into the proper gear, [Go] really shows that these guys are capable of something more expansive than anything they've done before.

POP ETC's vie for commercial radio appeal ends up feeling like watching your little brother come home from his first year of college trying on an overexcited new style, complete with awkward slang and ill-fitting fashions.

Despite all the outside input, this is Diplo's show.

Wedded to this warmth is a crisp clean sheen, a sound so bright that it threatens to get goofy when Chesney and crew rock out.

With their big choruses and building grandeur, songs like "The Hunted" and "I Can't Fly" feel not only larger, but much more refined than the songs on the group's last album.

Overexposed may not hold together as well as that album [Hands All Over ], but it's sure to keep the audience won over by The X Factor.

It's not so much that Throw It to the Universe is a bad album; but it is quite inconsistent when compared to their best work.

It's ultimately a fitting platform for his brokenhearted reflections.

Overall, it's a pretty somber affair, conjuring up images of humid, ashtray-filled midnights spent gazing out of a tenth story window, contemplating whether or not the fall would kill or just cripple you.

Life in a Beautiful Light, at its essence, is the sound of an artist looking for her own voice amidst the deafening roar of her influences.

While anyone hoping for more of the same old Fear Factory will find a lot to love about The Industrialist, those who have been hoping for something different might find that the album isn't quite what they were looking for.

All in all, this makes for an album that, despite containing plenty of drama and angst, feels self-restrained by itself, making the whole thing seem conflicted instead of confrontational.

A few listens to Mama confirms that Wells knows how to make a compelling record, but primarily as a producer and arranger; as an artist, she could use a mentor to focus her talents.

For the serious Adams enthusiast, this is a nice bonus to a solid album from the ever prolific, often unpredictable singer/songwriter.