For Professional Use Only's long run time and failure to effectively sequence and transition between instrumentals for a more cohesive experience hamper its impact on the casual listener.

Even though their unique music production always nudges musical boundaries, Can't Say I Ain't Country attempts to knock down musical barriers by affixing a fresh glow on past country music trends.

Evolution certainly doesn't sound like anything they've done before. At best, Evolution could add a few more bangers to their roster and slip by unnoticed. At worst, it could knock the band down to Creed levels of self-parody.

Anxiety, anguish and unrest can often produce great art, but so can spiritual harmony. It's just a shame that in the case of Turnover, contentment sounds so bland.

Indicud won't work for everyone, but if you're a Cudi fan, this album finds him sounding better than he has in some time.

Masquerading as a complement to SYRE, ERYS is a near replica of Jaden's previous effort, whose similarities run too close to repetition to make a true impact. The four-song arc that introduces the album (the "PINK" to SYRE'S "BLUE") doesn't quite hold the same ingenuity the second time around.

Free Spirit is Khalid's coming-of-age story: it's well-constructed, but already feels too predictable at this point.

This revised version offers fans a chance to listen closely to those musical constructions, at their most skeletal, revealing an often wondrous gestation process: just one that never quite compares to its own final product.

Old Sock [is] a pleasant, but ultimately uninspired collection that ranges from country and folk standards such as "Born to Lose" and "Goodnight Irene" to the classic jazz of "All Of Me" and "Our Love is Here to Stay."

There is more introspection on display than usual, especially in the lyrics, but Hallelujah The Hills have simply grown into the band they always threatened to become.

It was always going to be tough for Dashboard Confessional to repeat what they were, but while maybe Crooked Shadows doesn't hit the heights that A Mark, A Mission, A Brand, A Scar did in 2003, it's still a welcome return.

The album offers a little something from every listener, which includes pop-centric songs ("Shrine") bass-heavy bangers ("Era"), an anthemic ballad ("Atoms") and one pleasantly surprising ambient interlude ("Run For Your Life").

Hexed is better than its predecessor, I Worship Chaos, and certainly marks one of Bodom's better efforts of late. Old-school fans and newbies alike will be sure to find enjoyable aspects, but will quickly figure out which songs to omit when crafting their next workout playlists.

Despite 7 not being a fantastic project by any measure, the EP proves that Lil Nas X isn't a one-hit wonder and can find longevity in his career as long as he continues to show off his versatility.

Head Up High satisfyingly winds itself from one song to another, yet lacks a bit of overall "oomph"; it also sounds as if it could have been made ten years ago.

It all adds up to a deeply felt, personal album that, like his previous work, should serve as the perfect soundtrack to many a late-night contemplation hour.

18 Months has all the makings of a smash hit, but if you're looking for substance, you're better off looking elsewhere.

No Pier Pressure throws out that decade and a half worth of good will by doing the exact opposite, stacking the record with guest stars like Nate Ruess and Kacey Musgraves and "updating" Wilson's compositions with heaps of undercooked stylistic diversions.

Budden's raw energy and experience enriche otherwise throwaway pop, even when saccharine hooks (Kirko Bangz) and amphibian croaks (Lil Wayne) threaten to cheapen it.

For the most part, Morrissey sounds like a cheap facsimile of himself; an aged crooner without any latter-day grace. Moreover, the features list on this album, including Billie Joe Armstrong of Green Day, occasionally comes into play with no impact. Coupled with Morrissey's complete lack of finesse in his vocals are the instrumentals, which are, for the most part, the dictionary definition of clinical.

Far from essential, Hotel Sessions is a glimpse of a once great songwriter in mid-process.

Green is too talented to not make a decent-sounding album, but Heart Blanche, while delivering Green's usually masterful take on gospel-influenced and pop-minded R&B, feels listless and lacks passion.

What a mess. ... The album sounds more like a rehearsal than a completed record, with Keltner's pacing off, Young flubbing lyrics and Bushnell at times just guessing.

O.N.I.F.C. starts off with "Intro," a Cardo and Sledgren joint that sums up the production: 808 drums, skittering hi-hats and saccharine melodies, although the atmosphere is meaner than Rolling Papers.

This is the band's best yet.

While I Declare Nothing wastes no time solidifying a ruthless groove and builds on its own breathtaking walls of sound, it's album closer "Friendlies" on which Parks and Newcombe shine brightest, a four-and-a-half-minute bliss-out that could soundtrack a pro-hallucinogen PSA.

DROGAS Light isn't quite memorable, but Lupe's talent shines enough to save it from total obscurity. Not a bad effort, though.

This might not be the golden, triumphant comeback Aguilera had hoped for, but it's pretty close and, let's face it, it's better than most Top 40 music right now.