They're clearly aiming for epic but more often accomplish exhausting. It's admirable to see a band unselfconscious enough to present such unapologetically maudlin balladry (in a good way), but there's only so much of it you can take in one sitting.

There are some missteps--the ballad Tripwire feels out of place in the general uptempo pace, and in (She Might Be A) Grenade, Costello lazily compares a girl to an atomic bomb (didn’t Green Day already do this?)--but when the album works, the band and the singer/songwriter sound more invigorated than they have in years.

This album is their least messy and most consistent, but it hasn't left singer/songwriter Mike Donovan's slacker charm behind.

Indulging in a baroque concept that includes chanson, 60s French café swing and lush pop, he has no qualms about pushing the drama levels vocally. He warbles yearning lyrics on songs like La Banlieue, Un Dernier Verre (Pour La Route), alongside swaying accordion waltzes such as The Penalty. Best served with croissants and café au lait.

Her 11th album is full of potential hits (and not too many boring mid-tempo plodders). Unfortunately, there's nothing quite as catchy here as 'Can't Get You Out Of My Head,' although a few tracks come close.

In the first few songs they stretch themselves creatively and come up with promising results, but halfway through it's back to overwrought ballads and middle-of-the-road mid-tempo rock songs.

Suri's clearly committed to losing his joke rapper image, and while this attempt is not consistently successful, the high points balance out the stumbles.

The record will prove inaccessible for those seeking a retread of the members’ more famous projects but works when approached on its own terms.

Songs are summery and bright, a more apt soundtrack to a road trip across Prince Edward County than to a night at an underground club.

The more conventionally New Age tracks that dominate the first half are the weakest. Things start to get interesting on Tethered In Dark, when the acoustic guitar arpeggios and synths lock together into hypnotic loops.

Pagans In Vegas may not be the strongest entry in the Metric canon, but the juxtaposition of Emily Haines's robot-girl vocals and pointed lyrics with dark yet hooky melodies remains a winning combination.

An hour long, Reverie's an unusual mix of gentle, drifting and jarring.

Some songs work. He makes great use of Ethiopian-sounding jazz samples and M.I.A.-style children’s chants on ABCs, and excels while rapping over some of the album’s otherworldly beats.

For an album that otherwise condemns the materialism and narcissism of the modern world, Everything Now works best when it practises what it preaches: block out the superfluous noise for direct appeals to the heart.

Disappointingly, she doesn't go all the way with this new, abrasive approach. Instead, she lets ex-Suede guitarist and Duffy mastermind Bernard Butler smother the album with corny string and brass sections that try but fail to impose a 60s girl-group aesthetic.

Pink's weirdness is a major part of his appeal. It just requires a lot of patience.

The sheets of noise and absence of hooks hide some interesting ideas if you have the patience to listen for them.

Some of the innuendo ('Take You Down') is kind of hurting but the song 'Nice,' gangsta-fied by a Game appearance, is solid.

What sets Heloise, et al., apart from others mining the same sonic epoch are consistent hooks, guest vocals by Debbie Harry and catchy-as-hell disco bass lines courtesy of a rhythm section that’s tight­er than Williams’s neon spandex unitard.

Edmonton’s the Faunts have livened up on the punctuation-happy Feel.Love.Thinking.Of., moving away from the floating dreamscape world of their filmic M4 EP.

Powers's vocals, which still possess his signature nasal tone, are more upfront and unflinching this time. Yet for all this newfound confidence and prowess, that special emotional punch of a Youth Lagoon song is missing.

Much of it sounds like it could have been played by humans using traditional instruments.

The Colour In Anything is a good album that could have been great if Blake had been a bit more willing to edit and discard his less successful sonic experiments.

He is not to be dismissed--as a rapper, that is. k-os the pop singer though? Not good.

This collection of B-sides, recorded over the past few years, is way more put-together than Modest Mouse’s previous rarities comps, Building Nothing Out Of Something and Sad Sappy Sucker. But it lacks the carefree charm of Isaac Brock’s pre-success indie rock experiments.

Despite interesting bits of psychedelic texture, the album floats around your consciousness without making much of an impression. It's pleasant, but not particularly memorable.

After the long wait it’s not a disappointing effort, but it’s all over the place.

Viva La Vida starts off with promise for fans who felt that "X&Y" was a far cry from "A Rush Of Blood To The Head."... Unfortunately, the rest of the record fails to build on this.