Dedicated serves not only as an introduction to a criminally overlooked, pioneering pre-R&R group but also as a reminder of why Cropper remains so well respected.

The unfamiliarity between Finn and his backing group is palpable.

It’s difficult to hear this as anything but self-parody.

The more conventional pop/rock tracks detract from his eccentric impulses and feel like compromises.

Weaker songs near the end dull Day & Age’s initial shine.

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

Despite Keys's proficiency (she co-wrote Where's The Fun In Forever, one of the best songs on Miguel's new album), she's always seemed a little boring. On that front, she delivers.

If there is a difference between albums one and two, its the slightly twangier vibes and a structural emphasis on keyboard and guitar breakdowns that could be extendable live. It’s not hard to imagine Something To Tell You translating well to Haim’s amped-up stage show.

Ditto’s lyrics are still a blend of sex and politics, always delivered with enough passion to fill the dance floor and keep it sweaty.

It's not that The Captain & The Kid is a bad album; it just sounds terribly dated.

There's nothing on 3121 that Prince hasn't done better before.

The five-piece’s attempts at New Order-style electronica (after previously aping Dylan, Stones, Britpop, then reggae on 2006’s Simpatico) add a new dimension but can’t mask the lukewarm songwriting here.

The rewards are there--it just takes some work.

MU.ZZ.LE finds the idiosyncratic artist more focused than ever.

The 10-year-old band should be able to get a dance floor moving more than ever with these songs.

At his best he reminds you of everything that makes Miike Snow's self-titled debut such an addictive listen, but at his worst he comes across like an electronic music dilettante.

Aside from the ridiculous song names (New Juices From The Hot Tub Freaks, Sweatmother), it's unwaveringly cohesive and frequently hits the mark, but may lack enough variety for some.

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.

Yes, many of the chainsaw bass lines on this comp will be derided by some as knuckleheaded "brostep," but those bangers are balanced by enough forward-thinking productions that anyone new to the genre can get a fairly accurate snapshot of the style at this point in time.

Top-loaded with impenetrable stabs at noise-rock-infused rap, Cherry Bomb is a frustrating exhibition of musicality mired in Tyler, the Creator's contrary sensibility.

Strong melodies make the tunes better than middle-of-the-road, but aside from a bit more distortion, the New York trio show little desire to venture outside their breezy alt-pop comfort zone.

The rock 'n' role playing of Going Way Out isn't really as satisfying on disc as it may have seemed in the planning stages.

No matter which of their sonic dimensions the band happens to be bolstering, the resulting blast is always creative, energetic and memorable. In short, they make you want to fight and dance at the same time.

Most impressive is how the band synthesizes diverse instruments and rhythms without appropriating or grasping for novelty.

Infinite Arms further fluctuates between the vigorous (NW Apt.), the understatedly pretty (Evening Kitchen) and the yawn-inducing (title tune).

If Country Agenda had a chorale of voices on each tune, the contrast would allow Bleeker's to stand out more.

Unfortunately, they mostly come across as predictable and chuckle-worthy for the wrong reasons.

The Brixton duo’s music fails to connect with any of the collaborating vocalists, to the point where you wonder if those involved were even in the same room together.