The problem is that all this stuff sounds terribly dated already.

Steeped in country, folk and pop, Desveaux errs on the side of understatement; her rich lyrics sometimes inadvertently take a back seat to the band’s nuanced musicianship, anchored by lead guitarist Mike Feuerstack.

This is one of his best albums in many years, although that's not exactly a ringing endorsement.

Despite some cliched lyrics and cheesy moments (Bootful Of Beer is pretty goofy, the groovy Wheels is straight out of a steamy 80s-rock-chick video), the album--the Wilsons' first in six years--is both tough and tender, and makes a girl like me dive into the YouTube archives to relish the ass-kicking awesomeness that was and still is Heart.

This is his first time as producer, and you could argue that he neutered the band's crunch to a degree. But it fits with the album's mature mood.

Bad Brains can still blast with ferocity, but the jarring changes in tone and tempo could prove more of a problem than the lo-fi production for many listeners.

The aggression is still there, now tempered with lighter numbers like Feathers, but the whole thing still reeks of comic nerd sci-fi awesomeness.

Springsteen has trouble leaving well enough alone. No matter how small the song idea, he whips it up into a sweeping epic with lavish choral accompaniment and blustery solos all building to some grand final flourish.

The 10-song album ricochets between great – the grammatically playful What You Is, the countryish Hurry For The Sky – and just okay.

The sparse songs are free of drums, bass, riffs and obvious choruses, and are often pushed along by just two, sometimes three, chords.

Like the elder statesmen, the teenage California quartet offer skewed good-time indie pop that won't change your life but will sound fantastic blasted from a front porch on a summer day.

The half-hour run time makes the relentlessly cerebral approach more palatable, though the ending feels a bit too tidy.

Like most eccentric geniuses, Of Montreal's Kevin Barnes is as frustrating as he is brilliant.

Many moments are reminiscent of big-room progressive tunes of the early 00s, which sound dated at times. Nevertheless, there are also plenty of undeniably pretty melodies, thick tones and pleasingly warm textures, not to mention impressive flashes of innovation and creativity.

Too bad that so many of the instrumental tracks are pleasant but forgettable downtempo jams that dilute the impact of the highlights.

Satellite feels very much like a transitional record in which Kid Koala is exploring new terrain. Not all of his tangents are successful, but his enthusiasm for stretching beyond his turntablist roots is refreshing.

What's immediately striking about Challengers is the unabashed mellowness of it all.

They're not at their strongest when echoing the reverb-filled harmonies of Fleet Foxes, but when they drop their instrumental restraint, they achieve an alluring balance of plaintive folk and upbeat bluegrass.

After a while, the microscopic detail underscoring each turn of phrase, delivered with such delicate poise and precise drama, is suffocating.

The record is full of earnest female backup vocals and frequent reminders (like wind chimes all over the place) that the music is homemade. Yet like a lot of modern folk, the songwriting sometimes gets lost in the shuffle.

Shaking The Habitual is full of thrillingly percussive highs and brilliantly deranged vocals, but overall its anti-pop move is more typical than radical.

For fans of mid-tempo 90s R&B hungry from something new, Keyshia Cole is about as close as it gets to Real Love.

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.

She sounds older and smarter, but a bit unsure of which way to take that experience.

Different Gear, Still Speeding is rife with the catchy, strum-intensive songs and nasal John Lennon impression the band was first known for.

Sonically, Nothing's Real is in line with the gliding, easy-listening 80s pop that's back en vogue thanks to Blood Orange, Haim and La Roux.

O’Connor’s impassioned delivery elevates the most middling melodies and predictable rhymes.

At times the album feels just a bit too airy, but it finds its footing when Jessie Stein's ghostly falsetto blends with the band's unique orchestral-psychedelic instrumentation more directly.