Although Francis has described himself as a "low-confidence engine" since early in his career, the rapper has produced a strong and instantly relatable album with Li(f)e.

As a series of off-the-cuff side projects have shown, though, Jones' musical interests are more varied than they might appear, a fact that's demonstrated neatly on ". . . Featuring," which collects more than a dozen of her collaborations with a wide range of other acts, including Willie Nelson, Belle & Sebastian, OutKast and Foo Fighters.

While the album's softer instrumentation and thematic preoccupation with romance may initially frustrate some diehard rap fans, its silky hooks begin to sink in with repeated listens.

Currington sings that he's "not known for doing a lot," but he's certainly found a way to do something that's undeniably his own.

Mostly, though, the surprisingly warm-blooded Audio, Video, Disco reveals Justice to be human after all.

The 16-year-old's follow-up to last November's "My World" shrewdly elevates him from a fleeting teen phenom into an evolving pop artist.

While expanding on what it's done well, the group doesn't cease to be adventurous on LP4.

Legend, like Gunplay’s professed diet, is a potent mix of uppers, downers and hallucinogens; it makes for a weird, and weirdly satisfying, trip.

Part of the fun of The Lone Bellow is playing spot the influence: James Gang here, Staples Sisters there, Warren Zevon, Faces, lots of Crosby Stills Nash & Young. But to its credit, the band channels these icons with a commensurate amount of tact and respect.

Although the style vs. substance debate has been raging for more than 50 years along Nashville's Music Row, there's no mystery about which side Alan Jackson falls on.

Her latest release, Midwinter Graces, is a typically provocative-in the best possible way-entry in the yuletide canon.

Behind the dance bump, Communion is confessional synth-pop with a heart full of heavy feelings.

Brooks doesn't do half measures, as evident on the title track, screeching guitar-rock in which he rails against technology by referencing folklore hero John Henry, who died in a steam drill competition against a machine. But it's the dramatic tunes about love gone bad that stand out.

Goodnight Unknown is layered with subtle distortion and commanding percussion, combined with Barlow's confident, sometimes contemplative vocals.

Although MAYA is an undeniable testament to M.I.A.'s inventiveness, the album is so jam-packed with beats that any statement that she is making gets lost in translation.

Lovely moments abound, but the overall effect is less intoxicating.

Even with so many producers lending a hand, there isn't a dud to be found on the record's thirteen tracks.

Hudson links with a long tradition of powerful female vocalists making highly danceable music. And the spare templates she uses here, which are heavy on rhythm and relatively empty otherwise, give her plenty of space to flex her powerful voice.

Peace Is the Mission soars on the strength of sticky melodies sung by a unique combo of pop divas and West Indian vocalists.

Yet with its rowdy gang vocals and efficient club beats, Battle of the Sexes is ultimately more concerned with partying than with politics.

Amid synth-y disco ­dalliances ("Alive Tonight") and soul-funk workouts ("Your Girl"), she leaves room for snarling riffs on "Look What We've Become" and acoustic boom on "Empty Heart," reminiscent of Sheryl Crow's "Leaving Las Vegas."

Overall, Believe sinks its tendrils into the listener's brain by riding the dance music phenomenon and offering some whizz-bang production alongside Bieber's sticky-sweet singing voice.

For an album with crowded electro-pop instrumentation, the music isn't overbearing, and Little Boots' cheeky lyrics never lose any of their dry attitude.

As the band's first disc for Epitaph following a 15-year major-label run, the stripped-down Hurley mostly delivers what you'd expect.

On her debut album, The Family Jewels, Diamandis backs up her bark with a promising bite.

EVOL doesn’t break any rules or set many new ones, but as the latest in a seemingly never-ending series of wonders Future and his team wield in their creation of druggy, downcast afterparty dispatches, it is a joy.

For this warm set of 11 country-time covers (including a track from his 1986 album, "Eye of the Zombie"), Fogerty turns to his speed-dial list of superstars.

There are times you hope for a little more dumb fun--enter Diplo, who turns up on five tracks with his air horn and Caribbean beats and would be welcome on more--and there's at least one moody ballad too many. But then an aqueous bassline bubbles up and a surge of trance-y pulses sweeps you along to Madonnaland, where introspection and abandon engage in erotic acts of self-actualization.