Even if Ciara imaginatively develops the "Super C" superhero introduced in the disc's booklet, she and her collaborators will have to work extra hard on the next album to ensure that she does not stall in a creative cul de sac.

Cause I Sez So is clearly David Johansen's album, and it's a great showcase for one of the great rock singers of his generation. But is it the New York Dolls? Well, that's what it says on the front cover, and if the sound is different, the "Whatsit to You?" spirit of this set is as keen as ever, and that counts for a lot with these guys.

It's far from revolutionary and it's certainly not deep, but as often as not, Entertainment at least manages to live up to its title.

As bold and listenable as it is, Primary Colours is occasionally scattered, giving the impression that the band is trying on different sounds for size--although the fact that most of it works so well is actually more surprising than how different it is than their earlier work.

What makes Outside Love most compelling is that grim sort of optimism, delivered through a well-crafted sound that is as sedated as it is passionate, and simple as it is profound.

Roadsinger is an utterly solid catalog entry under either his adopted spiritual name or his former one. Longtime fans will not be disappointed, and the rest of us should take note, too, because this kind of songcraft is seldom come by anymore.

Wavering Radiant works as a single piece of music rather than a series of songs, and it is cohesively played by an ensemble that is more interested in the dark majesty of metal than its potential for expressing anger.

Shifting into metalcore territory is a tricky decision, since a lot of their initial appeal was due to the fact that they were making their own personal stamp on revitalizing punk--a genre that's becoming increasingly saturated with commercialism. Here, they seem less unique.

So if the first disc of Enter the Vaselines is absolutely essential, the bonus disc is for fanatics only.

Chrisette, naturally, sounds outstanding throughout, as a supernaturally talented vocalist whose songs are nonetheless easily relatable to anyone going through a breakup--or, to a significantly lesser extent here, newfound love--but the album could have really used more rhythmic punch than a token throwback strutter.

Cryptomnesia is a tough, rugged, and wildly ambitious set of far-reaching--sometimes overly so--compositions reflecting the rapid growth of one of the new century's most genuinely talented and visionary musicians.

It all adds up to a good but frustrating album of really solid highs and really annoying lows.

If anything, though, what Replica Sun Machine calls to mind is a previous attempt to meld aesthetics from about ten years back, the Beta Band's "Hot Shots II"--it's not a question of exact similarity by any means, but there's a similarly easygoing feel in the arrangements and the beats, something that invites drift and a steady crunch in equal measure.

His debut for Domino, 2009's Insides, is his first record that many people will hear and it's a promising, but flawed, debut.

The band sounds the most engaged on the early hardcore numbers like "Suicidal Maniac" (Suicidal Tendencies), "Thirsty and Miserable" (Black Flag), and "It's the Limit" (Cro-Mags), while nods to the metal gods such as "Ghosts of War" (Slayer) and "Escape" (Metallica) are blistering and volatile enough to warrant inclusion, but feel a little rote.

This is elsewhere music one can feel eternally at home in, no matter your place of origin.

Even if Lee's songs of solidarity are basically sweet in nature, his puppy-dog earnestness winds up being off-putting in the long run on The Rebirth of Venus.

Colonia may share with the Cardigans' late records that polished yet entirely too comfortable sound that reveals few insights, but it deftly presents Persson's uncomfortable vision of a world with little left to hold onto.

Sonically, this is right in line with Dylan's 2000s albums, the sound of a well-lubricated traveling band easing into the same chords they play every night, but this isn't strictly roadhouse rock & roll: Dylan remains fixated on pre-rock & roll American music, emphasizing the blues but eager to croon love-struck ballads.

While the Osbourne-fronted and Dio-fronted versions of Black Sabbath are, again, very different bands, this is an album that matches its moment every bit as perfectly as "Paranoid" did back in 1970.

These are slight, subtle progressions but what impresses is how thoroughly My One and Only Thrill lives up to the promise of her debut, offering another album that is as enchanting in its sound as it is in its substance.

Even without 'Neon Jesus'--the single that garnered Crocodiles quite a bit of web attention just before this release--Summer of Hate stands strong as a tremendous debut: one that pays heavy tribute to its influences while never seeming overly derivative.

Remind Me Where the Light Is ultimately concludes as the luminous successor to "Trading Twilight for Daylight"--bright where that album was nocturnal, open-armed where "Twilight" was introspective, and altogether illustrative of Great Northern's growth as songwriters and performers.

High on Jackson Hill doesn't quite trump "Fables" the way that album outclassed its precursor, but it's hardly accurate to call this a disappointment.

Following on from a much earlier collaborative single, the first full-length effort pulling together Modeselektor and Apparat--despite a name that suggests a Depeche-loving rodent--has plenty to offer without entirely being a full-on slam dunk.

This is an interesting diversion giving insight into the band's coordinates.

You might not trust Thee Oh Sees to give you a ride home after a gig, but if you're looking for a seriously buzzy rave-up, Help certainly delivers the goods.

Maybe it's a clue that Jones has already moved on and that there's not much here to get excited about, past some high-powered singles.