Bada$$ hits a sweet spot. His production choices (and those of Statik Selektah, Kirk Knight and Freddie Joachim) are innovative and timeless.

Accented by González's charming harmonies, close-mic'ed guitar work and Winterkorn's hazy, retro synths, the album is a headphones record that reveals new depth with every listen.

Highly listenable bangers like Tapes & Money, Garden and American Dream Part II make Trouble ideal for bouncing around your bedroom or the club.

Their approach is no longer as unique as it once was, but unlike many reunion albums, this one stands up fine next to their seminal work.

Despite solid production, the pop appeal of Nocturne doesn't quite transcend its 80s influences as well as Gemini's joyous, rough-hewn charms did.

Album highlight Paper Romance's pulsating, danceable track makes up for the tedious rock-bottom rock-out Look Me In The Eye Sister.

With help from bandmates Eric Fisher and Jenna Conrad, his eighth full-length could be the album to finally propel the little known guitarist to Arcade Fire-like heights.

At times, the mid-tempo brooding gets a bit monotonous, but Cole is an engaging enough character to make this a solid debut.

The 16 tracks sound similar after repeat listens, but if you think time has mellowed the band, guess again.

Rihanna is at her most adventurous, and while we're not completely convinced that all the wailing hard rock guitars suit her, the aggression makes sense within the context of the album.

Impressive song construction ruined by heart-wrenching dramatics.

Phantom Punch is a wobbly ride through tracks that, for the most part, hiss and snarl with the leather-jacket swagger of his garagey backing band while Lerche either nervously essays a pseudo-rock "growl" over top or reverts to his customary loungey warble, both of which sound equally absurd.

While it's clear that Last Train's combination of electro and house with hip-hop and R&B is Combs's baby, it's the group format that makes it work as an album.

The eerie voice blend still sends the occasional chill up the spine, and their songwriting continues to capture the painful earnestness of youth, but it all feels a bit staged.

Other Life isn’t too polished, which means it will appeal to Savage’s pre-existing cult fan base but not the wider audience it aims for.

All the reckless abandon the New York Dolls name conjures, the spontaneous handclaps, sloppy guitar-slashing and youthful over-indulgence that made those early Dolls recordings such a kick are sadly nowhere to be found here.

It’s a more introspective, political and mature sound, but no less fun.

It’s all very easy to listen to, but occasionally too close to easy listening.

While the rest of the band have proven they can write solid music, it's singer Geoff Rickly who presents the biggest problem, and that's mostly because the man simply cannot tone down his over-emoting.

Strangely enchanting.

The end product, however, is an album easy to admire yet tough to love.

Though QOTSA always seem to be on bland-rock stations, this is as different from the mainstream as you can imagine, and not in a bad way.

The production bangs, and there are many references that'll appeal to readers of liberal non-fiction (Fast Food Nation, Chomsky, Al Gore), but some of the good Mr.'s thoughts on this future we live in are unconvincing.

Stelmanis brings a more musical sensibility to the formula, even if it's still miles away from mainstream pop.

Requiem is a double album but only 13 songs long, which means you’re in store for plenty of extended instrumental jams. Those chugging epics help establish the hazy mood and create plenty of atmosphere, but the best moments come when Goat attempt more conventional song structures.

Having three creative forces acting on the music from different angles leads to frequent twists, turns and stylistic shifts--showing they can roll like Dr. Octagon one minute and Sly Stone the next.

Many of the familiar signifiers are gone, yet their well crafted and characteristically tuneful compostions still have a recognizable Calexico feel.

Truthfully, it's a mellow Sunday afternoon after a hard night's clubbing: perfectly pleasant, but quite forgettable.