There is enough variation from song to song to keep listeners engaged; plenty of thoughtful, almost heavy ballads to balance the jumpy, uptempo tracks, lots of different instrumentation in the arrangements, and an assortment of moods from quiet melancholy to slightly louder melancholy.

Peace & Love remains something of a mood piece--it’s ruminative, not rousing, never succumbing to navel-gazing but not suited for large crowds--which does mean it doesn’t quite have the undeniable power of How to Walk Away, but when a softly melancholy mood strikes, this provides comforting consolation.

With its driving guitars and massive choruses, The Constant is yet another highly catchy album from Story of the Year that will easily live up to their fans' expectations while making converts out of those unfamiliar with them.

Fixin' the Charts really comes down to the jokes and the concept--how much you appreciate it will depend on how much the idea appeals to you in the first place, and how well you can tolerate Argos' sung/spoken/ranted vocal approach, but it's definitely good for at least a chuckle.

As fringe collections go, it is worthwhile, especially for fans of Mathematics. Just don’t be surprised when the faithful turn against the set: they already have too many “pretty good” comps to choose from.

Genuine Negro Jig is perfectly recorded, balanced between the best sound this century can deliver and the rustic, throwback feel of an old-time string band in action at a picnic, dance or rent party in the '30s. That’s the accomplishment here.

While Pearson would likely be flattered to be told that this disc resembles a hybrid of Michael Mayer's Immer (stern, dramatic; Joy Division) and Triple R's Friends (comparatively brighter and outgoing; New Order), he might also find the description a little limiting. Yet this disc does have each one of its elder siblings’ charms: a gentle buildup and easy finish, extended trance-like passages, spongy rhythms, seemingly incongruent tracks melded with ease and restraint, almost subliminally tense transitions from menace to bliss, and even some whispered vocals.

All in all, this is a rare sophomore album that widens the band's sound without narrowing its appeal.

Though this emotional nakedness is an unusual move after Made in the Dark pushed Hot Chip to a new level of attention and acclaim, it also shows they’re in it for the long haul.

Forty years after his debut, I’m New Here contains the artful immediacy that distinguishes Scott-Heron’s best art. The modern production adds immeasurably to that quality, underscores his continued relevance in reflecting the times, and opens his work to a new generation of listeners while giving older ones a righteous jolt.

Horace Andy and Hope Sandoval front some impressive productions, and Damon Albarn's "Saturday Come Slow" is one of his best post-Blur features (including Gorillaz), but overall Heligoland lacks the majesty and might of classic Massive Attack.

The material sits within the band’s canon well enough to please longtime fans, and listeners looking for some kind of middle ground between Evanescence, late-period Queensrÿche and Fall Out Boy will more than likely find a few wicked gems to hang their heads to.

Lacking rhythmic hypnotism and relatable most to those who are experiencing solitude created by romantic desertion, this is not your mother's Sade album.

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.

Causers of This sounds like a dance-pop mixtape plunged underwater -- it's all smeary synthesizers, chopped-up dance beats, and washes of reverb.

If Crows was the first album from a new artist, it would certainly be hailed as the debut of a powerful new voice, and the fact that it comes from someone who has already been making fine music in notably different styles makes the accomplishment all the more impressive.

Eyelid Movies is a nostalgia trip at heart, but it isn’t a lifeless pastiche by any means. The amount of care the duo gives to the arrangements, the subtle and successful blending of influences, and above all, the high quality of the songs and performances, mean that the record is a success on its own terms.

Black Noise can't help but feel ever so slightly like a letdown after the consistently mesmerizing rapture of its predecessor. But make no mistake: Weber is still making some of the most enchanting electronica out there, and if this album brings him the increased exposure for which he seems well-poised, there are few producers more deserving.

Ya-Ka-May is not merely a collaborative amalgam of tracks, but rather a unified whole reflecting NOLA’s musical vitality and reveling in it all simultaneously; it's the sound of a musical community being itself for itself, while screaming--in full party mode--into the world that it's alive and evolving.

Truth in advertising, Another Round varies little from Jaheim’s earlier efforts, but for the returning listener, that’s the selling point.

Though they may lose a few fans with their new sound, You Say Party! We Say Die! do a fine job of growing into a truly interesting band on XXXX.

Everybody’s got to miss sometime, and on Haywire, Turner does by a mile, despite his no doubt good intentions in taking some of the slickness off the contemporary country sound.

The energy is, as ever, uniformly positive, albeit with a spirit that is more commonly playful, as on “Simple Advice” (loaded with so much kinetic percussion that it resembles a go-go band’s warm-up session), “Summer Love” (a lighthearted duet with Perkins over crawling, “Cutie Pie”-like machine funk), and “Room Punk!” (45 seconds of happily throwaway pop-punk).

Mechanize isn't quite in a class with Demanufacture or Obsolete, which are widely regarded as two of Fear Factory's most essential releases. But it's still an album that longtime followers will welcome.

Sadly, this time out, the band have put aside the wonderfully corny synthesizers they used on the last record in favor of a 100-percent organic approach that fits their bearded poets of the mountain image.

It’s more interesting to ponder Wayne's reasons for making Rebirth than to actually listen to it, because the end result is a loud and ignorable bore.

The Soft Pack allows this band an almost completely clean break with their past while showing they’re dynamic no matter what they’re called.

While it’s easy to admire his well-cultivated classicism, Who I Am is an awkward growth spurt, relying on songs designed as grooves but given performances too hemmed-in to be soulful and often undone by Nick’s thin teenage yelps.