Perhaps Derulo has grown as a person since his previous album, but it's hard to call this one a step forward.

The music sometimes coheres on an individual track level, but Screamer pushes buttons too hard. All of its strident hooks and big beat confrontation wind up being exhausting: it sounds like a band screaming at you to pay attention for the better part of a half hour.

Custom Built is odds-and-ends masquerading as a new album, rounding up brand-new cuts and leftovers from Michaels' unheralded pre-Rock of Love 2000s.

The 12 songs on All Things Bright and Beautiful, Owl City's third album, certainly demand the audience's imagination -- or at least their willingness to go along with the world Adam Young dreams up, a cartoonish place where the skies look like alligators, the rivers taste like fruit, and emeralds poke their heads out of every rock.

The repetition hammers home Hinder's stultifying lack of imagination and even that would be excusable if the group had a scintilla of sleaze but like anybody too beholden to their idols, they tread the familiar ground too carefully, winding up as bland by-the-book bad boys.

On the whole, L.A. Divine is a little less consistent than Hold My Home; the band's relentless intensity can get a bit exhausting, while the interludes sprinkled throughout the album feel more distracting than transporting.

No End will not appeal to everyone--especially not all Jarrett fans. But those who've closely observed his processes and evolution will likely embrace it, as will fans of experimental guitar-based rock.

Overall, Black and White Rainbows is an interesting piece of the Bush discography, hinting at a late-era trajectory shift and a reinvigorated spirit for Rossdale and company. While he nurses fresh wounds that have stripped his world of color, at the very least he can still see beauty and hope through the gloom.

The hardcore fans might notice the difference but, apart from those three songs, there's not much reason for them to pick this up because Forever consists of songs they've purchased many times over.

His lyrics and performances are lacking in original thought (sometimes clear thought) and charisma. The power and range of his singing voice are limited to the point where the musicians often sound constricted, and the mix is just as sympathetic, rendering Stéphane Clément's trumpet -- presumably the answer to "We need a Roy Hargrove type" -- close to inaudible.

Along with empty flash like "Something Bad" and "Time of Your Life," they're all part of Thicke's least appealing album.

Messier Objects is a lot of fun for those wanting to explore the Notwist's more experimental side.

Because of the emphasis on brevity and variety (and especially quality), the album's over before you know it and you're left feeling hungry for more Korn.

Shaggy and Sting might not first appear to be an ideal match, but they're both rooted in reggae and are both international stars, so they share a vernacular that helps turn 44/876 into a surprisingly enjoyable pan-international pop album.

This attempt at old-fashioned star-making might have worked if Bria Valente had a smidgeon of star charisma but she's merely a pleasantly breathy crooner, slipping easily into Prince's shimmering quiet storm production.

Har Mar Superstar's never been known for solid full-lengths. He's a song-based artist, and Dark Touches features some of his best singles.

Guilt may be a bad title for a pop-rap album so slick and shallow, the completely ludicrous I Am Hip Hop's Savior was the original plan, suggesting that this project was misguided since early development.

By showcasing the two sides of DeLonge's musical personality, To the Stars does feel like a solo album but it also does feel a bit like a warehouse--a way to clear the decks as he preps for the next great project.

By many measures, Blunt's richest and best collection to date.

Forget the World plays more like a collection of 12"s than a well-tempered album.

The joy and silliness are enough to keep the record out of sleazy Har Mar Superstar territory, but it also means that there is a serious lack of substance on the record.

At times Can't Be Tamed feels perfunctory, getting the job of showing Cyrus is growing up without making her too mature for her still-young fan base and little else.

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.

Sirens is a step up from their debut.

Stealing of a Nation is a slick, calculated record that misses its target on all accounts.

The constant recycling, along with the quantity and variety of other voices, detract from some of Evans' best, most impassioned performances, which are matched with some solid work from a roster of co-producers that includes Salaam Remi, James Poyser, and DJ Premier.

What the group made sound effortless in the past sounds strained and canned here.

Shame that one-joke ideas like "House Party" get blown out of proportion, and even worse, the healthy helping of filler is obstinate, refusing to fade into the background because of over-the-top performances. 3oh!3 are nothing if not loud and shameless, so if you expect end-to-end excellence from their albums, you've got a lot to learn about cheap thrills.