By grounding it so heavily in the metal that served Spinal Tap so well, Shearer turns Smalls Change into a bit of a grueling hourlong experience--there may be the occasional taste of prog pomp or a Richard Thompson cameo, but it's all in the context of hard rock--but listened to as a series of EPs, the craft behind its silliness shines through and it's quite palatable. Which makes it not all that different from a John Entwistle album.

This cuts back significantly on winding jams, upping the ante with tight songs and performances, a clean muscular production, and a lack of vocal histrionics from Popper

With Rule 3:36, Ja Rule takes a step forward from his impressive debut album, spending less time trying to act hard, and focusing more effort on crafting a diverse album.

It seems like Parquet Courts might be taking notes from labelmates Girl Band, producing some of their most uncompromising work to date. Monastic Living is a very curious move for the band.

This triumphant self-possession comes so naturally to Christina that it's hard not to wish that she acted so boldly throughout Bionic, letting the entirety of the record be as distinctly odd as its best moments.

As a performer, the smooth Derulo--made even smoother by Auto-Tune--delivers it all so effortlessly that none of that persuasive debut hunger comes through, making this stylish and short set one to admire rather than advocate.

Without that soulful kind of anchor, Nothing But the Beat offers the same experience as one of Guetta's numerous remix sets, which is a compliment if you're a dancefloor and a caution if you're a pair of headphones.

While the band sometimes flirts with modern sounds -- witness the overheated neo-new wave beats fueling "High Steppin'" -- they usually default to an affectless folk-rock that shows a considerable debt to Bob Dylan.

Love: Part 2 winds up as the group's most effective album yet: it channels their '80s hero worship into something propulsive and distinctive.

What At the End of Paths Taken means for the Cowboy Junkies: it's like a renaissance.

To say the record isn't "challenging" is an understatement, especially when looking at his early work, but it's easy to overlook how skillfully the man crafts positive music that's sunshine, and yet not sugary.

Backstreet Boys don't have any songs that will lift them out of the adult contemporary world--but the audience who has turned from teens to adults with them will likely enjoy its easy sound, as there is nothing bad here. There's just nothing great, either.

The Fray's sophomore release picks up where How to Save a Life left off, reprising the same blend of piano-led ballads and midtempo pop/rock that helped establish the band in 2005.

It's a wonder why a few of these cuts didn't pop up before this, but as a collection of outtakes, they hold together better than some of the band's proper albums.

Just as pretty but more purposeful than Jones' previous output, Tranquilizers makes good on the promise of Dog Bite's debut and then some.

End Titles...Stories for Film wears the signs of its creation poorly, unlike the quite-good odds'n'sods collection "More Stories," which despite its high quality was released only in Australia.

A sophisticated, epic, slow burn of an album, The Temper Trap finds the band taking the creative long view, and updating its bombastic guitar rock with a moody, somewhat synth-oriented sound.

It's an enjoyable record, but it's hard to escape the nagging feeling that Garbage has painted itself into a corner: they haven't found a way to expand their sound, to make it richer or mature -- they can only deliver more of the same.

Whereas the first solo effort was somewhat lo-fi and reminiscent of Lou Barlow, Golden D, which is named after the musical chord, focuses on rock -- the hard and fast variety -- and suggests Sonic Youth and Sex Pistols.

Everything to Everyone is probably Barenaked Ladies' most honest album -- always touching, but serious and completely open for the first time in their 15-year career.

Neither horrible nor great, Time of the Assassins is an unassuming album, a working holiday that was probably more enjoyable to make than for anyone besides die-hard Strokes fans to hear.

Few things are more excruciating than hearing shallow frat guys try to sound deep, and these tracks can really make you wince. Ultimately though, when 3OH!3 stick to the anthemic, glorification/satirization of their own lifestyle, the good certainly outweighs the bad on Omens.

Certainly the musicianship and arrangements are impeccable, but even with differing vocalists, all of the tracks are so similar that it ends up being as tedious as the producer's later work.

The whole package ends up having this strangely alluring glimmer. It's like discovering California Babylon after being lost in suburbia.

Cycle is ultimately no more than 50 minutes of standard-issue desolation, but the softness of many of the tracks gives it compassion, something most of Staind's peers have no time for.

It's the sound of an artist who's given too much freedom too early and has no idea what to do with it.

Ingle's ability to write a pop melody is promising, perhaps, yet it's too hampered by nasal vocals to make much of an impression, and the album’s short running time proves to be one of its biggest assets.

These jaunty experiments are some of Hagerty's most insular work in a while, but that doesn't make Wilson Semiconductors any less enjoyable.