Frusciante's guitar work... almost single-handedly saves the project, but not quite.

Sometimes Barzin’s singing is soft and serious, others times dreamy and wistful. Immaculately arranged, it’s an album you settle into, then relax into.

The trio have also grown more comfortable singing the blues and incorporating meatier harmonica and guitar arrangements, and lurching tracks like Out Of The Wilderness and A Little Blues make up for weaker soft rock ballads that leave little impression.

Setting a song called 'Livin' In The Future' to the tune of 'Tenth Avenue Freeze-Out' indicates that Springsteen's sense of humour may be returning, but the fact that Miami Steve didn't tell him 'Girls In Their Summer Clothes' sounds a little too much like 'The Kids Are Alright' suggests it's not quite back to the good old days yet.

In a way, this could be Glasper's Black Radio Volume 3: The Davis Edition. However, positioning the album as a tribute runs counter to his forward-looking use of the material.

Although the flagrantly throwback Motown numbers are a bit warmed over, the album shines when Kelly blends his old-school approach with his modern club killa persona.

If only Steele could keep a lineup together for more than a few months and follow through with his original plan of working with producer Dave Fridmann, Personality might've risen above the level of ho-hum patchwork pastiche.

Linkous's vocals make only a few brief appearances, but so much of his personality is in the songs that it feels almost like a tribute album he had a hand in recording. A proper coda to a storied, tragic career.

It’s a sad irony that just as Earle has hit his stylistic stride--beautiful, pedal-steel-soaked country and poppier soul--he’s writing fewer tracks that’ll floor you.

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.

It's the near-painful purity she conveys in the high notes that surprises most, especially on the mellower tunes.

Musically, Ne-Yo spends most of his time here worshipping the throne of Michael Jackson ballads, which suits his falsetto crooning quite well. However, it's the handful of upbeat techno-influenced speaker-thumpers that stand out most, revealing his potential to be a much more versatile artist.

With Love Is Free, Robyn once again shows she can bring together discerning dance snobs and accessible-pop fans.

Surrounded by blunt-force catharsis and brandishing some clever, caustic wordplay (like rhyming Lil Boosie with Susan Lucci), Blanco manages to be a pure delight as a rapper, even if he isn't calling himself one.

This disc comes off like an early home demo for a mediocre New Pornographers recording before all the bright colours and drama get added.

The disc has plenty of amped-up, distortion-filled moments (Ride, The Easy Way), but the band throws in more than few twangy, laid-back tracks (She Loves The Sunset, The Beautiful Thing). Infectious tunes and, most important, variety, make this another great disc in the band’s solid career.

Building on the critical goodwill he received from 06s stripped-down This Old Road, the 73-year-old Kristofferson offers another sparsely produced batch of reflective acoustic tunes that he sings with sage simplicity.

Art Of Doubt shows that you can still find comfort in the sounds of your past, especially if the bands who shaped you have adapted and evolved along with you.

While all the West Coast blue-skying might seem naive, the laid-back vibe makes you want to focus on the positive, at least for the album's duration.

Despite the production and star power, no one element outstrips the others, except perhaps for Mystikal, who continues his reinvention as James Brown's heir apparent on the raunchy Feel Right.

Turns out the relentless ferocity, while a riot live, ends up making the Dirty Nil more enjoyable in small doses on record.

The album would feel more complete if they’d included at least one nod to the warped pop music that made them famous.

There's nothing cerebral about her lyrics; she's a captivating, blunt performer, here emphasizing classic arrangements and raw emotion over poetic invention.

It’s much more in line with Shabason and Adams’s work on Destroyer’s soft rock epic Kaputt, with its smooth sax, jazzy rhythms and 80s synth pop, but Elle’s breathy voice meshes remarkably well.

In a voice so fragile a strong breeze might overpower it, he offers sober ruminations on loneliness, life, love, longing, and artfully infuses each song with just the right amount of banjo, light drumming, acoustic guitar and vocal harmonies (often courtesy of the stellar Julie Fader).

Her signature hollowed-out minimalism nicely suits the subject matter, sometimes rising in urgency before falling into a deceptive calm.

The 80s funk references are more submerged under the washes of synthetic drones, and the songs even more pastoral than before. Still, there’s nothing here quite as immediately satisfying as Feel It All Around off his 2010 Life Of Leisure EP.

It’s weighty, sure, but give yourself over to this album, see it through, and you’ll be rewarded generously.