It's understandable that Ludacris wanted to show off different parts of himself, but in doing so he didn't have to forget about what fans already knew.

The nice thing about the soulful shimmer of We Sing is that it's so slick that it's easy to ignore the gibberish spilling out of Mraz's mouth and just enjoy the sunny, easy sound.

So, Own the Night is mood music but the aim isn't amorous; it's nothing more than a spot of relaxation, which doesn't quite amount to compelling listening no matter how immaculate the execution.

MS MR concentrate on a sullen yet sultry mood for the bulk of Secondhand Rapture, and while that delivers several notable tracks--"Fantasy" and "Head Is Not My Home" chief among them--at times it's almost too much.

In addition to often sleepy and forgettable production, Leray's flow leaves much to be desired and even guests like Nicki Minaj ("Blick Blick"), Fivio Foreign ("Mountains"), and H.E.R. ("Overthinking") can't save the day.

Red is at its best when it mines the new wave/Europop of Level 42 and Ultravox, especially on the infectious 'Clarion,' but those moments are few and far between.

Strangeland never really lives up to its mysterious title, as there's nothing on it that doesn't feel willfully nostalgic, but like any good plate of comfort food it satisfies in a way that more adventurous meals never truly can.

With this diverse cast of characters, the web of collaboration and sonic diversity could spin off forever. But under Avanessian's watchful presence, the sonic palette remains in a key that will perpetually draw head-nodders in.

An uneven but promising debut album that suggests that the group may still create something distinctive.

Apart from that pair of stiff originals, the whole thing is cheerful and engaging, a worthy sequel to its predecessor.

Don't call it a comeback, call it a collective, or a compilation from solo artists who sound enthused to be back with an especially inspired RZA as ringleader.

Though the complete stylistic overhaul is admirable, the earliest results of Ices' experimentation with her new sound are pleasant at times but less than gripping overall.

Too close to the original to be a worthy reinvention, and too flawed in execution to feel like a successful homage, although this will almost certainly remain the only Elvis tribute album to include a sample from Aleister Crowley, at least until Jimmy Page gets around to making one.

The shift PINS made from their brash debut Girls Like Us to the more eclectic sounds of Wild Nights proved that they can change things up successfully, but it makes their lackluster transformation on Hot Slick even more head-scratching. While the album has some promising moments, after a five-year wait, it's a little disappointing.

Like any visual album, the floating sounds here are probably best experienced in conjunction with the visuals they were created for, but even on their own, there's a calm power that grows as the various passages of Tangerine Reef fade in and out of one another.

Bye Bye 17 feels less gimmicky than a lot of his other work. For perhaps the first time, Tillmann is coming at the songs from an angle that doesn't depend on the cognitive dissonance created by his sexual boasts played against his Ron Jeremy-esque appearance.

Ultimately, a full album based around relaxed, Rhodes-based ballads is probably too bland for thrill-seekers, but Start & Complete is the type of one-off that might be of considerable interest to fans.

Even if Ciara imaginatively develops the "Super C" superhero introduced in the disc's booklet, she and her collaborators will have to work extra hard on the next album to ensure that she does not stall in a creative cul de sac.

While it's undeniably polished, it's a bit too dark, a bit too quirky, and a bit too individualistic to be part of the mainstream, while being too slick and professional to be on the fringe, but the album is all the more ingratiating for being caught between two worlds.

Like the late-night cautionary tales that play out in their songs, the real key to enjoying The Orwells is to just not overthink it and listen and enjoy the music, because time spent pontificating about their age is time that could be better used for partying.

The Adventures of Ghosthorse and Stillborn's densely packed sounds and ideas are a lot to process, but they're what makes this album rewarding on repeated listens.

The sisterly harmonies and country-tinged arrangements are pleasant enough, but they focus on atmosphere at the expense of melody, a move that leaves the listener emotionally stirred but unable to recall a single melody after the disc’s conclusion.

Train is a classic rock wannabe band in the mold of Counting Crows.

This is a kaleidiscope of pop culture arcania and it's witty too... pure, simple, hard-rocking, giddy fun.

They make honest indie rock for those looking for a solid, good song. There's no frills, no fancy production, just the purity of these songs.

You can appreciate the emotion put into The Lord Dog Bird and feel the soul being poured out--but without any variety in the album's sound or any songs that jump out and demand repeat spins, ultimately you're left with a less than satisfying listening experience.

Sheeran knows how to please his fans and Play doesn't veer far from his usual formula, shaking things up just enough with the invigorating addition of a couple internationally spiced highlights.

With one or two exceptions, all of these songs are second and third rate by his standard.