With all its clean-cut melodies and smirky introspection, even Death Cab fans might have a hard time finding Former Lives more than a collection of melancholy, whimsical tunes.

Certainly, Night Train is huge, but its size feels derived by divine proclamation: it is big simply because it was intended to be big but at its core it feels weary, a little hollow, and not at all fun.

The three songs for The Ganzfeld EP manage to go all over the map in under half-an-hour.

A serviceable slab of unpretentious yet utterly forgettable '80s retro-metal that adheres to every cliché in the book.

While there are still some bright pop moments and interestingly demented freakouts like "Who's Running My Ranch," the album as a whole feels more hollow than even Pollard's sometimes tossed-off song fragments.

The highlights are all casual, subtle, finely detailed midtempo numbers and slow jams. What's truly disappointing is the absence of energetic songs descended from soul and funk.

Unfortunately, on Top 10 Hits of the End of the World, PR were so involved with their campy concept, they neglected to write and record music capable of carrying its weight.

For all the progress and growth Del Rey shows in the vocal realm, her songwriting appears to be in stasis and the productions behind her have actually regressed from Born to Die.

If you don't listen closely, it goes down easy, but listening with just a slightly critical ear reveals those similarities [to Dave Matthews] as near farcical.

While longtime JLS fans may be satisfied with Evolution, those looking for either a smart reappropriation of sounds from the past or a daring creative leap forward will find themselves at a disappointing dead end.

Too bad it's a step back from Doo-Wops in so many ways, leaving people who saw promise in his debut shaking their heads in disappointment and hoping Mars can sort out his feelings about women and get back to being a sweet romancer, instead of an icky hater.

Big Boi adapts to the unfamiliar surroundings with little effort and often sounds comfortable, but the fusions are short on power.

There's something gelling on Dirty Glow that almost matches the album title itself, but it's just not quite there yet.

ong for song, Merry Christmas, Baby is very much of a piece with Rod's ongoing Great American Songbook series, with Stewart not straying from the familiar form of these songs and producer David Foster laying on all manner of soft, soothing sounds.

As it stands, the album is a decent attempt at a fresh start that won't put off too many Girls fans, but until he figures out exactly what kind of singer/songwriter he wants to be, won't likely earn him too many new fans.

Strangely, III doesn't sound like the work of a band at all.

The band certainly throw their arms wide open in welcome, crafting the laboratory-perfect, good-time emo-country-pop hybrid experience that'll sound very good blasting out of rag tops and 4X4's, if not a moody teenager's bedroom.

Much of No World is so slight, tentative, and ill-defined that it easily slips into pleasant background listening for intimate encounters and soul searching.

A pleasant and grown but tedious release from a charismatic entertainer and exceptional vocal arranger who is not a great recording artist.

Maybe lovers of '90s revival bands will find something to like here, but anyone who was into the records Wavves made before is out of luck.

Kinski still sound best when they're stretching out into longer, moodier pieces of cloudy rock. There are enough strong sections like that to keep Cosy Moments afloat, but fans might be turned off by the attempts at pop that don't quite hit the mark.

While the ominous vibe is spot-on, the overall lack of hooks and power makes the record feel more affected than connective.

Reincarnated the album is all heart and heart-in-the-right-place, threatening to mash up the system without ever even harshing the mellow.

If the production had been a little more restrained and the band had written a few songs that didn't sound like they were meant to be played by U2 after a couple days spent listening to Top 40 radio, the album might not have been quite the heavy and ponderous thing it is.

LL sounds rusty and a bit under-rehearsed as he belts out his iffy punch lines and motivational anthems, but he pours his heart into the pop numbers and sounds at home during the nostalgic throwbacks.

Tears on Tape proves that H.I.M. moves forward and back but remains mostly in one place.

The textures are excellent, the songs are OK, but as a whole, it just doesn't pack the emotional punch of earlier outings.

A confounding set of song sketches and hot riffs, this one belongs with 2005's Interim, 2001's Are You Are Missing Winner, and others that are considered "for hardcore fans only."