Despite being heavy with unexceptional tunes, Seal IV has enough going for it to warrant the next four years of anticipation.

Certainly a vast improvement from their sophomore effort... what makes Twisted Tenderness so vibrant is how Electronic placated their lushness for more of a moody demeanor, mysteriously similar to the likes of U2's electric distortion found on 1997's Pop.

This is an average album by a promising band who needs to find a distinct identity.

Sounds fresher than anything the group has attempted in a long time.

The Mark, Tom and Travis Show is indeed a real rock show and catches Blink 182's shameless personalities and childlike giggling about oral sex, dog semen, and masturbation.

Wasif tries too hard to make lines interesting and profound, and they end up sounding awkward and a bit forced.

As the group replaces departing guitarist (and founding member) Dave Dederer with Andrew McKeag, while they bring Seattle underground mainstay Kurt Bloch in as producer, all elements that help make These Are the Good Times People perhaps their most eclectic album to date.

If not quite as enjoyable as "Unpredictable," Foxx's ability and personality make it easy to ride out the sags.

At 15-songs long the album can stand tall after the required trimming, making Rise Up a giant leap in the right direction after the lukewarm "Till Death Do Us Part."

Doin' It Again is unlikely to cross over in the same way as its several collaborators have done, but hardcore grime fans should be satisfied that at least one of their originators hasn't surrendered to the ubiquitous electro-pop sound just yet.

Sometimes this professionalism results in a tad too much slickness, particularly when the duo eases into ballads that surge so strongly no emotion registers, but when the JaneDear girls are flirting with tacky, spangly four-four beats and hook-heavy crossovers, they wind up with appealingly glitzy, crisp country-pop.

Peroxide showcases Nesbitt's sweet voice and personal yet universally relatable lyrics, which she frames in bright, often acoustic piano and guitar-driven arrangements.

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.

Ultimately, while Fitz & the Tantrums' contemporary dance-pop sound is decades away from the aesthetic of their debut, it works, and it's hard to imagine fans not wanting to take make the leap with them.

She's created a cool, sensual sound for Close Your Eyes, spinning off of her signature subdued adult alternative pop but adding in significant elements of electronica, particularly an echo of trip-hop past.

The songs on Saturday Night, Sunday Morning are the kind you could easily see getting placed in the background of TV shows or used in commercials. Taken on their own, these are fine songs and Bugg's reedy alto is showcased to nice effect throughout.

The release is a set of moody trap numbers with sharp beats and stark lyrics about hustling and street life. He also spends time roasting online haters and addressing Internet drama.

The compilation was offered on CD in three-disc and one-disc sets. The latter is more like a sampler with no discernible method to the selection process, and those who take that option will miss out on the Clarke and Wilder mixes, as well as numerous highlights.

It's a comfortable and familiar fit that poses only one significant problem: nobody bothered to write any songs; they're just playing for the sake of playing.

Everything here, from the sound to the songs, is about improving the brand of "Luke Bryan: Party Bro" and if he never seems to inhabit that role, he's nevertheless able to sell it.

Mostly, Let the Bad Times Roll sounds like what it is: the work of middle-aged punk lifers who don't change their style, sound, or perspective.

As much as the vocals, however, the fault for Dirty Vegas lies with the unambitious production; Dirty Vegas make a crossover group like Underworld sound positively edgy in comparison.

Hooks never mattered to the Used anyway, so having a higher grade of execution helps underscore the Used's point, which ironically just makes the whole thing uglier and harder to take.

It boasts a refreshing and inclusive, old-fashioned '70s style prog-pop vibe.

Asleep in the Bread Isle is an everyday suburban rap album, if there is such a thing.

O'Brien helps them articulate their ideas, giving them definition and muscle, attributes that are appealing when the songs lack distinct hooks.

The range in quality here indicates that superior work is in reserve.

Pond still fills his lyrics with snark and deadpan cynicism, a move that gives complexity to his otherwise soothing music, but even that has gotten old by now, and The Dark Leaves rarely distinguishes itself from the music that came before it.