The obvious skill and spring in May’s delivery can excite, but her music has become too uniform, too fixed in its backward view to keep us rapt.

The power of Goldsmith’s words elevates it all to the next level.

It offers a crisp and worthy glimpse of a giant.

Nostalgic fans will no doubt lap up Prince’s old-school falsetto preens and funk beats. But such a sustained recoil from the current world has a consequence. It can seem regressive or overfamiliar.

Part of Morrissey’s charm is his resistance to change. Another part is the sick wit that lies behind his vitriol. The titles of his songs alone draw perverse smiles. He may be a pill and a scold, but you can’t deny the guy’s got style.

Though Hill shares the honoree’s alto pitch and stern vibrato, she’s transformed the arrangements of these classic songs to nearly the same degree that Simone did on her own versions.

Disappointingly, Pink hasn’t taken Minaj further into the surreality that first promised to turn her into Missy Elliott to the 10th power. But there’s no denying the album’s catchiness.

If the end result isn’t as big a blast as the star’s previous records, it still has his likable tone and witty character to count on.

They raise issues only to question them, a point driven home by the askew music. It doesn’t make for the most direct, or exciting, of sounds. But by embracing hip hop and also standing outside it, the album lends the genre a perspective it could use.

The tension between the singers’ voices does the tradition of classic R&B harmony proud.

It’s a flinty, raw and ravaged recording, like some audio equivalent of a message in a bottle long ago tossed into the sea. It may be hard to listen to but it lends the disc an arcane charm.

Heard in what would have been Cash’s 82nd year, the songs find this icon embracing Music Row conventions without losing his soul.

He serves up several ballads, which salute hunting, fishing, and scarecrows. None are particularly convincing, given the anchor-man blandness of Bryan’s vocals.

That hybrid [hip-hop and pop], and Sparks’ new maturity, allows her to find her voice, as well as a potential new role.

The songs offer few individualized lyrical details, and no consistent themes, to pin on a particular person. The arrangements, likewise, have a slick adaptability that makes these songs serviceable cover material for any pop star of the hour.

The first half doesn’t downshift for a second, plowing through muscular rockers with the spit of his prime.

The ex-Eurythmics singer pumps new life in the war horses by locating their bluesy core.

Like all of the band’s albums, Sonic Highways ends up enjoyable, sweet and insubstantial.

It’s the balance of the production that makes it all click.

The lyrics also circle the wagons, settling on eye-glazing tales of football heroes gone to war, men who realize it’s more fulfilling to fish than to climb the corporate ladder, and piercing realizations like “the answer lies in people loving people.”

Much of the material sounds like it was fished out of the slush pile of hotter stars like Beyoncé or Nicki Minaj. Part of one cut, “Walk It Out,” even sounds like a second run at Bey’s “Flawless.” The album finally shakes awake toward the end.

Along the way, the long, 19-song album offers its share of groaners, missteps and songs more indebted to trendy production than solid craft. But its best moments boast some of the most finely structured pop melodies of Madonna’s 32-year career.

They're featherweight takes on retro-'70's pop soul, together creating just the summer album we need in a winter that won't quit. But if the album's puppydog need to please goes down with ease, it's effect evaporates nearly as quickly.

Actually, there’s nothing Sheeran does here that Mraz hasn’t done before, often more cleverly. Even so, Sheeran can write a hummable tune and, clearly, has something young girls love even more than looks: heart.

Many of the other stars sound like they want to crawl inside Browne’s throat, the better to get closer to the mind that created such exquisite work. Even the most reconsidered renderings make sure never to get in the way of the words.

Nearly all the tracks on High Hopes are wildly overproduced and arranged, leaving no room to rock.

Contrary to its title, the new album may be Carey's least elusive work. Rarely has she made her talent more clear.

Many pieces highlight Beck’s mordant humor. Professional decadent Jarvis Cocker proves ideal for “Eyes That Say I Love You,” dealing wryly with the delusions of love.