The more introspective moments show songwriting potential that's worth getting excited about, but at times the disc coasts along too comfortably to be truly remarkable.

The album is rich in texture but light on memorable melodies.

Instrumentally, Primrose Green is an engaging listen, but Walker the singer only comes through a few times.

Emotionally raw, [Dirty Laundry is] far more intimate than her sexier songs, proving that her best recipe for success is baring her soul rather than her bedroom secrets.

Except for the dissonant pep of Heaven, Rose’s careful vocals float among bittersweet synths for 37 minutes of dreamy Cure- and Bangles-evoking pop.

The quieter moments that give his voice less to compete with are more interesting.

[Disc two] makes clear the fact that R.E.M. never could get back to the top of the mountain for most of their career

Tim McGraw's country-radio-friendly production weighs down the disc.... McKenna sounds best stripped down and rough around the edges. Both her voice and writing deserve more modest frames.

This isn’t exactly Johnny Cash doing Nine Inch Nails, but it’s a helluva lot better than you might expect.

Ultimately, LOT’s songs will dictate their trajectory, and principal songwriter Liz Powell sounds mostly up to the task.

It's the lyrical shift that propels the album in a new direction that will be hard to appreciate amongst throngs of festival-goers. That's what the sugary hooks are for.

Mixed so its songs blend together, Tao is such a cohesive record that when the second track, Pure Radio Cosplay, is reprised midway through, it seems like the end of an intense musical detour rather than a simple replaying of the song.

Luckily, they keep things relatively concise. If this album were any longer, it would be exhausting.

While the exceptional company he keeps (see appearance by Earl Sweatshirt and the elusive Jay Electronica) sometimes highlights his shortcomings as an emcee, Miller’s guests also push him to be better.

The biggest glitch is the production - the myriad elements sound cramped for space.... Too bad, cuz Butler's lyrics, which replace coming-of-age angst with poetic explorations of global anxiety, politics and an excoriation of celebrity culture, put Funeral to shame.

Though Bragg leaves behind punk rock fire for the personal, there are still political--and optimistic--moments, weariness be damned.

As on Employment, some songs spark with energy and others die in the first verse. Is a complete album asking too much?

9th Wonder can now give the BDI Emcee his top-batch beats since being disowned by Little Brother, so a multitude of satisfying soul-inflected thumpers grace The Formula.

Gift proves that Lindsey Buckingham’s knack for writing catchy pop-rock chord changes is alive and well.

Diamond's song selection will hardly shake anyone's world – two each by the Beatles and Randy Newman – but he has the vocal power to make many cuts his own.

It isn’t his most groundbreaking work, but he’s earned the right to relax, and there are far worse albums you could spend a lazy Sunday afternoon with.

It’s a meandering, angsty and deceptively gritty chronicle of the wonder years, but on repeat listens his guttural, conversational drawl and textured production seem to camouflage some seriously sentimental feelings.

Generally solid with more hits than misses, but my usual advice to DiFranco still applies: don't record everything you write – wait a few months and give us the best ones.

Goldsworthy’s highly layered mix of sounds maintains a pleasant balance between harder edges and winsome feel-good vibes.

Though the overall groove ("Don't funk with it," they advise on QueenS) is freewheeling enough to avoid being preachy, awE naturalE is implicitly political.

The distance between men and women--emotional and physical--is at the core of many of these songs, yet the album manages to be the most playful PARTYNEXTDOOR record to date.

When Drake swoops in to pick up the thread, his clear, articulated voice is so much more animated than Future’s that the impact is jarring.... Occasionally the two conjure interesting spaces between underground murk and pop-star sheen (Live From The Gutter, Scholarships), and the tension, as they adapt to each other, is compelling.

Irglová’s sophomore release, Muna (Icelandic for “to remember”), still has a delicate, emotive touch, though the overly sombre approach to her cinematic folk tunes makes for a somewhat unvaried listen over 51 minutes.