As the track [Untitled] fades out and Eminem thanks the listener for coming out to the show, it's clear that if this effort is just the recovery, then the countdown to full rehabilitation begins now.

Even though its origins are a bit unique, And I’ll Scratch Yours is still your garden-variety tribute album, subject to all of the perks and limitations that such projects tend to contain.

2017’s Flicker fermented a folkier, more organic sensibility, and despite Heartbreak Weather’s soaring ambition, he roots himself to lyrics that sprout from similar emotional earth.

The mood is enriched by an ambitious approach to what seems on the surface to be modest pop songs, which reveal themselves to be far more elaborate, challenging and unusual.

Over production is a constant issue with these tunes, as Stewart (who co-produced) layers guitars, horns, backing vocals and too much of everything on melodies that, by and large, are strong enough to stand on their own in more stripped down arrangements.

The twosome generates real sparks throughout and the natural camaraderie bursts through the speakers. You can almost see, and surely feel, their beaming faces on many selections. But even at its best, it’s hard not to wish this was a bigger showcase for Mahal than Mo’, with the latter’s notoriously slicker approach dialed down to allow the former’s gutsy soul to take the spotlight.

The outfit gets points for releasing an album comprising new compositions (minus Petty’s tune), which helps establish them as more than another ABB cover act, albeit one with undeniably valid credentials.

The Great Gatsby Soundtrack is a fine example of what a film’s musical-mate can and should be; it mirrors many aesthetic elements of the film, augments the general storyline and adds depth and personality to the characters and dialogue on the screen.

As an album for those who have followed Skaggs through the years and think he can do no wrong, Country Hits Bluegrass Style definitely hits the mark.

The arrangements are both agile and emphatic, by turns jaunty, gyrating, and exuberant.

Red River Blue, alongside recent efforts by Blake's summer tour-mate Brad Paisley and wife Miranda Lambert, pretty much defines mainstream country these days – high-quality songs, great singing and musicianship, big production, and the same time-honored, predictable six or seven themes that we've all heard before.

The verbal intensity and reaching for the back rows attitude seldom pauses long enough for the listener to catch their breath.

It's warmly, immaculately recorded, featuring a wealth of tasty cocktail pop atmosphere perfect for sipping wine on the couch late at night or reclining with a book in a bay window on a lazy Sunday afternoon. It's fine, it's dandy, and it's completely inessential.

These United States' lead singer Jesse Elliot has a scratchy, affected voice--maybe a super-strung-out Ryan Adams, if you're looking for a point of reference--which makes for a varied listening experience: Sometimes you want it to lead you to the Promised Land ("Just This"), sometimes you just want to make it stop ("Ever Make You Mine").

Vices & Virtues combines the best and most memorable elements of Panic! at the Disco's previous two full-length releases, and the end result is their catchiest and most accessible effort to date.

Because of a noticeable lack of recognizable names contributing Lowe covers, the scope of this 14 track set is considerably more modest, but no less enjoyable.

The problem is that the band seems to want to go mainstream as it stood in 1995. As a result, they've lost a lot of what made them unique.

James has crafted an envelope of sound to bolster his unique, almost choirboy styled vocals, that's easy to tumble into.

Typical of these compilations, some interpretations work better than others.

As it stands though, Foxygen bit off more than they can chew, leaving ...And Star Power as an occasionally interesting failed experiment.

Bursting with enough potential singles to suggest that the most-played male artist of the last decade will continue to dominate country radio.

The songs are pretty, well-written and well-constructed, but the album as a whole lacks the vitality that would give it necessary variety.

It's hard to say whether Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros has hit their stride with Here, their second album--but it's safe to say that it brings forth just as much energy as the band's 2009 debut, Up From Below.

It's not perfect, but it's perfectly Mumford & Sons.

On Indie Cindy, there’s not a lot of danger, or passion--or excitement for that matter.

Casual listeners will probably wish Folds had used his obviously impressive improvising skills a bit more. But as the audience reaction here indicates and die hard fans will undoubtedly concur with, anything that floats their boat out to Folds island is a good trip.

By turns arched, ambitious, intriguing and expressive this sprawling 20 song set recalls the band’s earlier epics with melodies that boast the same elevated intensity that’s driven their signature sound from early on.

It shows his restless ambition as an artist, but not his ability to make a great, lasting musical statement.

While this is surely not for everyone, those whose tastes aren’t constrained by traditional notions and are willing to go with Ziman’s somewhat oblique, even aloof flow, will find plenty of reasons to spend the requisite time getting comfortable with her unique style and genre expanding approach.

Jude is Lennon’s singular statement, his purposeful pronouncement, his pivotal turn as far as coming into his own with music that bears a grander scope.

While there are moments in which Coldplay take some interesting steps forward on Ghost Stories, there are a few moments when the band rests a little too heavily on easy listening or pop music clichés.

Unfortunately, The Sound Of The Life Of The Mind loses a little steam after that outstanding opening trifecta, either when Folds leans too heavily on his flashy lyricism or downplays his band's instrumental strengths.

Regrettably, Break The Spell never fulfills its mission of delivering an unabashed rock effort and genuine nuggets of musical magic are few and far between.

It’s a whiz-bang romp perfect for the Claypool faithful to devour, and may even attract some of the more roots oriented not already onboard his distorted fun-house mirror music crazy train.

The agitated, anxious emotions that explode over Big Mess create a difficult, even grating 73 minutes, which is clearly what Elfman was aiming for. It’s a bumpy, challenging, often exhilarating, sometimes scary experience. Strap in and hang on.

They’re still unabashedly clicked into late ’60s-early ‘70s bygone rock, and Starcatcher is, indeed, classic Greta Van Fleet.

As it stands, it’s another entry in Young’s bulging catalog that, like Storytone, Greendale, Le Noise and others, you might play once or twice to see what he’s up to, then return to far more listenable classics like Rust Never Sleeps.

Although Augustana may not be the year's most cutting-edged release, it is full of strong, if not extraordinary material, which is sure to leave an indelible impression on admirers of pop/rock.

he talk-sings his way through the material, getting by on gusto more than singing talent. ... All that said, it’s an awful lot of fun. Wood and band are clearly enjoying themselves, pianist Waters — featured in two large photos in the booklet — shines throughout and the party vibe is contagious enough to make this a success not just as a tribute to Berry, but as a showcase for Wood, one of his most celebrated fans.

Stone's in fine, strutting voice but the sensitive hesitation of a new singer tackling soul gems ten years ago is replaced by confidence that leads to a tendency to oversing as her star has risen.

The songs on Storytone glide between those highs and lows with very few false moves, making this one stylistic detour that takes Neil Young very close to his artistic home.

It may not be the Tiger Army fans were expecting or hoping for, but if you close your eyes, it will transport you back to a time when men smoked unfiltered cigarettes and women in frilly party dresses and pony tails swooned over them.

The Green Album ends not with that bang, but with the whimper of Matt Nathanson's "I Hope That Something Better Comes Along" and Rachel Yamagata's "I'm Going to Go Back There Someday."

For every well-placed mandolin run or B-3 organ riff, there's something equally tacky to balance things out.

This cohesiveness is the very thing that was lacking from previous efforts, and ultimately dulled their impact. Kudos to the Casadys for finally accenting their highly inventive songwriting in a unified manner.

The album's longer numbers (four of the ten songs are five minutes or longer) are the more successful ones, as they're better able to stretch out and create a suitably hypnotic mood.

Marriage, fatherhood, L.A., and devotion to Sri Sakthi Narayani Amma may have mellowed the former Noise Addict leader, but Lee continues to release engaging, if slightly more introspective, work.

Where Roses shines the brightest is via the textures that gild the album's edges.

Everything is weighed down with import, and that can become wearying through 14 longish songs. Still, people will relate to the universal doubts and fears that are often stirringly evoked by the music and lyrics on Delta. Mumford & Sons know their strengths and they play to them well here, proving that too much catharsis is better than not enough.

his Modern Glitch encapsulates true maturity, both musically and emotionally.

This is no halfhearted sideshow done on a drug prompted whim, but a serious if twisted and undeniably idiosyncratic re-make/re-model.

Ultimately this is a missed opportunity to either unearth obscure, under the radar gems from this era or push Krall outside her comfort zone with challenging interpretations that reveal new meanings in songs we already know by heart.

Grey and his band’s drive, energy and enthusiasm go a long way to selling this music but at nearly an hour the effect is diluted. Leaving a handful of the weakest cuts in the vaults and honing the best parts from some of the others would have resulted in a stronger outing.

Lightbody and company manage to deliver an unyielding and substantially satisfying collection of high quality upbeat tracks and atmospheric ballads.

None of this is to say that the songs, themselves, aren't excellent in their own right, but with a voice as heavenly as Correa's, you can hardly go wrong.

Clapton never sounds clichéd, artificial or forced as he delivers this material with low key charisma and a laid back exuberance that’s charming and inspired.

After listening to Gray's latest, The Sellout and going back to the music that had shifted through our slush pile unnoticed over the last decade or so, we're pretty stoked to find an artist making solid, soulful music beyond the confines of contemporary culture.

Production by the professional but slick and synth loving Jeff Lynne sands off the rough edges where Walsh used to thrive.

Competent though they are, the band’s experiments stretch cohesion to its limits, and Spreading Rumours consequently feels like a collection of singles rather than an album-length statement.

It works. And not just because Tilbrook's high and mellifluous voice has only ever-so-slightly thickened and Difford's lower register--used for great deadpan effect on "Cool For Cats"--defies aging concerns, but because these effortlessly clever, tuneful and pithy songs never got their full due in the U.S.

The Kingdom is a healthy and dynamic record, leaning toward a heavier sound that is majorly consistent. And Rossdale’s piecemeal, emotive style of songwriting serves the record well, leading with heart and less structure or obligation.

A few moments almost save this from moving into the “better luck next time” pile.

If you're a fan of the Memphis music of the '60s, and/or Huey Lewis, this album is a good bet. Soulsville won't be on the charts long in this day and age, but its songs are timeless, and Lewis and his band do a nice job of paying homage to the music of this bygone era and its creators.

Another Country has far too many moments that will have them lurching for the track-forward button while admitting this once talented songwriter needs someone to tell him when his reach exceeds his grasp.

Existing Wilson fans will find this an enjoyable enough diversion, but even they will have to admit, it’s a little flimsy and simply not up to the high water mark Wilson has set for himself.

North seems destined to forever relegate Matchbox Twenty into the next generation of unremarkable dad rock.

Yet, as familiar as some of his phrases sound, lines like "the watertower has more names" are still striking in their simple evocation of what revisiting the past can be like.

While we give Young a pass for getting new music out, and worthwhile moments are scattered throughout these 10 tunes (that don’t break 40 minutes), just as often you’ll lunge for the track-skip button in exasperation of hearing a major talent and unquestioned cultural icon who has spread himself too thin.

Ultimately, Crash My Party is melodiously rewarding despite its sporadic lyrical missteps.

[Their] biggest, most-produced and boldest album yet.

A full orchestra occasionally adds more bloat to an already over-the-top sound.

Desperation and fear meet talent and ingenuity in a fascinating way on How Do You Sleep At Night? making for one of the most thrilling full-length listens of the year thus far.

Not all of it is easy listening, but all of it is worth hearing.

The unrelenting earnestness of the album may appeal to some listeners and repel others, but in either case Franti has achieved his goal of capturing the "sound of sunshine"--and it seems like he's having too good a time to care what anyone thinks, anyway.

The lack of thematic diversity strikes another blow. Certainly, songs about being unhappy with relationships are nothing unusual. However, the ability to write anything meaningful or refreshing about the subject is quickly exhausted on Mine Is Yours.

Morissette's poetic discourse of intimately describing her feelings still abounds, but is elegantly emoted here with cool restraint.

This is the comeback album they should have released in '03.

Like a lot of Frusciante’s solo output, Enclosure sometimes sounds more like him working through ideas than a presentation of conclusions.

The band's newest album is likely to alienate longtime followers and music snobs alike, but will undoubtedly excite newer fans who embraced their massive smash hit "Moves Like Jagger."

With Say Nothing the band takes enough steps to both developing their lyrical content and staying musically contemporary to please hard rock fans who weren’t born when their debut was released and may have no idea who Ted Bundy, or even Nickelback, is.

Like his recently unpredictable behavior, it departs from what we’ve come to expect of him: gut-born artistry which connects on a human level. With this LP, he comes off concerned with fitting into an ideological mold, leaving no room for honest feelings and guided prose.

Okay, Ringo hasn’t made his masterpiece, but then again, a guilty pleasure can be worth savoring in itself. As most of his Starr-struck admirers generally conclude, it can be rewarding to zoom in albeit momentarily, rather than opting to completely tune out.

While it’s not the place to start for newbies, this is a refreshing, consistently well-crafted comeback that shows there is plenty of gas left in the band’s tank.

Rather than sticking to his bread and butter, Busta had his sights set on bold instrumental choices that he didn’t mesh well with, trendy samples that came across as tacky, and far too few awe-inspiring or substantive performances. And because of that, Blockbusta fell short of what it claimed to be.

Young's idea of fun is based on an uneasy mix of cheap valedictory philosophizing and infantile daydreaming.

As a project, The Incredible Machine succeeds big time, and may make these guys even less welcome to certain factions of Music Row as they continue to change the face of what is considered country.

Some 42 albums on, Morrison remains as emphatic as ever. This Latest might not be his greatest, but in many ways it clearly comes close.

See My Friends proves, if nothing else, that there's simply no force on Earth malevolent enough to destroy a good Ray Davies ditty.

Even though there's nothing here Randy Travis didn't do first, McCreery flies the C&W flag proudly, singing hummable cherry picked songs that spotlight his impossibly deep voice and backwoods spirit.

This whole idea might be a little overdone for everybody by now.

From the album’s clunky title which is simply a list of all 13 tracks with no punctuation, to its incessant use of a brittle, dated drum machine (could Doughty not afford to hire a live drummer with the money he raised from fans to finance this?), most of this feels calculated, deliberate and stiff.

Taken individually, the songs resonate better. But lumped together the effect is claustrophobic and cheerless.

Writing this review would be so much easier if you didn't seem like such a nice dude and if you hadn't had such a disaster fraught year so far. we'd totally let into you about that Miley Cyrus duet and probably scold you for including that atrocious remix of the Rock of Love theme, but frankly, we can't. Not now anyway.

No fear on this album, none. It's an all-out emotional outpour, from the ballads to the rockers, a focus that makes sense in its own way.

The ambition is admirable, but a schizophrenic quality pervades the effort overall. The dramatic shift in sound makes it hard to get a handle in terms of either consistency or feel. Perhaps the two are merely feeling each other out and taking advantage of their options. Whatever the case, 18 still seems like an odd assortment of numbers at best.

It takes some commitment, and maybe a little homework, to get the most out of the album.

This will be a good record for backyard barbecues and beers, but not for much serious listening.

The veteran guitarist's 36th album is a predominantly instrumental set that tries too hard to do too much over its hour long length.