Ultimately, Dead Man's Town is a good idea executed poorly, an effort to peel back the veneer from Springsteen's songs that manages to toss away much of the core at the same time.

Cheek to Cheek is a record where the music and even the songs take a backseat to the personalities.

Intriguing but muddled, Tyranny puts plenty of musical distance between Casablancas and the Strokes, but too often it lacks the clarity to be anything but challenging in the wrong ways.

While it's nice to see Rowe explore more, all the stylistic gymnastics leave Madman feeling, at times, a bit disjointed. Despite this, the album is easily the singer's most accessible and eclectic record to date.

If the album doesn't offer any startling surprises along the lines of the furious "Black Sweat"--there's not much abandon here--there's joy in hearing Prince embrace his lyrical eccentricities as he accessorizes his smooth jams and coiled, clean funk with such oddities as laser blasts and spoken introductions from what appear to be British nurses.

If the songs on PlectrumElectrum don't stick the way those on Art Official Age do, it's nevertheless a quiet thrill to hear Prince spar with worthy partners, as he does throughout this record.

Electric Youth's debut is a well-constructed, carefully thought-out debut that belies its long gestation process and will make people who fell in love with them thanks to the Drive soundtrack very happy in a melancholy kind of way.

As a Vaselines album, V can't help but be disappointing. None of the unpredictable magic they used to be able to conjure, in the distant past and on Sex with an X, is on display, and they seem to be resigned to the fact that they are just a good rock band now.

While Hold on Pain Ends is generally well played and well produced, little new ground has been broken and by and large it comes across as a fairly standard, mainstream pop-oriented metalcore record.

Like much of Boratto's previous work, it's all superbly crafted but not much of it leaves a lasting impression.

Ware continues to express a multitude of emotions with superb elegance. The material, unfortunately, is on a lower plane.

If In Flames' last decade of material has been your cup of tea, than Siren Charms is likely to sit well with you, but for those still holding out for a return to the glory of their work from the '90s, the wait continues.

While Sweet Talker's lack of a clear artistic voice makes it wildly uneven, it just might be loud enough to regain American listeners' attention.

The results are approximately as scattered. Gray's obvious comfort level and charm, however, help compensate for the less than ideal quantity of magnetizing material.

By emphasizing melody and feel over art and angst, Lambert's come up with a debut that goes down quite smoothly.

As a songwriter, Ubovich still seems to be getting his sea legs; many of these tracks seem to be more about jamming than delivering melodies that will stay with you after the record comes to a close.

Some of the styles are undeniably tacky but, hey, bad taste is part of Idol's legacy and Kings & Queens of the Underground touches upon that garishness along with his exaggerated swagger, fondness for hooks, and an irascible snarl, and that makes it an autobiography even if it never tells a story.

His father's son through and through, Baxter Dury not only sounds a bit like his old man Ian, he is attracted to a similarly chintzy production that pushes attention away from the arrangements and to his words. This is especially true on 2014's It's a Pleasure.

Undoubtedly, she has the charisma and chops to be convincing on both bubblegum and ballads but 1989 is something else entirely: a cold, somewhat distant celebration of all the transient transparencies of modern pop, undercut by its own desperate desire to be nothing but a sparkling soundtrack to an aspirational lifestyle.

Tell 'Em I'm Gone confirms that Yusuf still has the talent and passion that made him a star as Cat Stevens, but the efforts to find a new sound for him don't quite work, and Rubin doesn't quite catch the light but emphatic touch of Yusuf's salad days; maybe a full reunion with Paul Samwell-Smith would be worthwhile for Yusuf's next album.

It's an album less for blasting out of car radios and more for dusty Sunday afternoons and at times, it can feel a bit dulled by its own weight. Still, it's nice to hear the band stretching out and evolving, and even if Keep You requires a little more patience there is still much to like about it.

If Florida Georgia Line feel anonymous, that's not a bug: by design, they're playing to the largest possible audience, so nobody should be surprised that Anything Goes is so broad it avoids such messiness as personality.

By delivering this big, sloppy valentine to everything he is and everything he loves, he's not being neat but he is true to himself.

Despite a few bright moments, Motion is disappointingly bland--especially since Harris has made plenty of memorable electro-pop before and after his EDM makeover.

Chamberlain sounds like he's exorcizing some demons with Sleepwave, and he's doing so in the style that comforts him the most.

Ot overall the compilation, with all its good intentions, pales in comparison to the originals and will only strengthen the urge to hear Russell's wonderful songs again after listening to this well-meaning but flawed collection.

Even when London muddles quasi-philosophical gibberish and pro-fellatio sentiments on "Water Me," the hooks and basslines dig deeper. It's more creative, too.

As it is, BRONCHO need to head back to the studio with some Red Bull and a producer who can light a fire under them, because judging by their first album, they can do better than this.