Simmons makes little attempt to vary her template. Eventually, despite the pleasant pastiche, the music all starts to sound the same. Absent any real shift in tone or tempo, the overall impact tends to be somewhat muted.

A nice summation of Chris Cornell's career up to this point, Songbook makes for a fine springboard into the next creative chapter of his life.

As befits his sideman status, McLagan is neither a particularly riveting vocalist nor songwriter--some of his lyrics are rudimentary bordering on simplistic--but he makes the most of his limitations by sheer heartfelt resolve.

It all seems more diverse than it actually sounds, and true, the band borrows plenty, including some room to play around with the sound, but Thank You Happy Birthday transcends its genres, and would be better simply labeled as a solid second step.

In other words, if you’re looking for a good time disc to get your party started, you could do worse than slapping this on, turning up the volume and letting Snider and his pals kick start the fun.

Mission Bell is hopefully a transition record for Lee, one that shows him at the crossroads of polished, packaged pop tunes and the grittier gut-wrenchers of artists like Nelson and Williams.

No one expects sing-along, hit single material from the edgy, thought-provoking Heap, but this seems excessively random.

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.

Blackberry Smoke continues to deliver with the assurance and dependability that their fans have come to expect. At this point, their chief priority seems centered on maintaining their dixie designs.

It's a solid, not spectacular album with a few very fine songs.

There’s plenty going on and most is worth hearing even if Milia’s artiness occasionally gets in his way.

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.

Consistency doesn’t count for much, but that may indeed be the point. Juice is a refreshing reminder that it’s better to sound a bit unhinged than to always be so common and consistent. For their part, Born Ruffians serve up all of spontaneity their spirited style allows.

The Light Saw Me provides an intriguing proposition and may in fact end up as the album that eventually gets Boland and the boys the attention they so decidedly deserve.

This is mood music, so little jumps out as the songs melt together. But a little goes a long way.

This pleasant set of smooth honky tonk finds a sweet, somewhat slick path and never wavers as it coasts through eleven slices of radio ready country.

Born and Raised a prime example of the John Mayer paradox--it's good enough to satisfy even his most casual fans, but the old-school Mayerisms that remain will only anger his detractors.

The energy level Soundgarden maintains is certainly admirable for a band whose members are all hovering around 50 years old, but this fairly narrow focus on capital-R Rock songs and little of anything else results in a homogeneity that keeps it from offering the level of depth or surprises that the band's previous albums held.

Faithfull simply shares her dry recitations with poise and proficiency.

Lyrically, the concepts are obtuse and diffuse, but with all the effort Little Scream and co-producer/multi-instrumentalist Richard Reed put into the soundscape, it’s likely there are some intriguing concepts here, if you can untangle them.

Keith's plenty good enough and smart enough to do a lot more than ably cover the bases on his annual albums whenever he wants to.

The Flaming Lips return with one of their most challenging, yet cohesive records to date.

When all is said and done, Angles could make for an exciting introduction to a new chapter for The Strokes, or it could be a disappointing swan song.

Consider Shook an example of auditory excess plied with aural intrigue.

Like the music of Nick Drake, these subtle songs creep up on you after repeated listenings. Their supple strains, low key choruses and overall atmospheric vibe gradually become intriguing and often hypnotic. Still, a few upbeat selections would have helped make this medicine go down much easier.

It’s all interesting, at least once, and there is plenty to chew on in these nine tracks. How often anyone other than Scott fans will want to hear some of these again is unclear.

Collingwood's nasal vocals–part charming limitation, part annoying affectation–can wear thin, even when sweetened by pristine guitar arrangements and perfect backing harmonies.

Buckingham knows his true strengths. Seeds We Sow waves goodbye, just as it began: with quiet meditation.