G. Love sounds at home pouring his heart out about his grandmother and making bong-smoker anthems, but a few numbers sound clichéd.

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.

The production is much bigger, and his songwriting more assertive and hook-heavy. Unfortunately, the awkward charm and intimacy of his early efforts are missed.

Much of his old work still sounds more vital.

There’s something romantic and relatable in the simplicity, showcased best on the lively, poppy folk song in his native Spanish, Escucho Mucho.

It's a beautiful record, but perhaps not the evolution expected after a four-year break.

It sounds like the producers are all competing to drum up the best variation on Ciara's patented Crunk N' B theme.

Redundant, needlessly long, Those The Brokes rarely matches the 60s California-dreamin' good-vibes pop of its successful self-titled predecessor.

Some of the hunger and electricity he displayed in his pre-prison era seems to have diminished. This is something to tide people over until his next record, not an artistic statement by any means.

Grainger and Keeler are now more than six years into their reunion, but it’s still hard to listen to these songs without making knee-jerk comparisons to their early work (which, let’s face it, offered more thrills). That being said, Outrage! Is Now shows that they’ve shifted into a new phase of their career – one in which they’ve honed their craft and matured into seasoned pros.

Unbearably bland.

A pretty lightweight disc.

Woomble... shows an innate inability to keep pace, vocally and emotionally, with the thrusting guitars, driving drums and push toward intensity the band bids for.

This album is back-to-basics rock and soul; you won’t find any further ploys to appease contemporary audiences, and therein lies its charm.

Ward's writing--though universal and singalongable--sometimes suffers from vagueness and clichéd rhymes. He should have a bit more faith in his audience, because Hope is most interesting when it strays a little from this formula.

Frances McKee and Eugene Kelly had randy sides to them back in the 80s, and that hasn't abated.

The tunes mostly stick to a low-tempo, shuffling formula, though Bridges gets a chance to stretch a bit in a few scattershot moments of idiosyncrasy.

While a couple of catchy turns of phrase compensate for some elementary rhymes, there aren't enough hooks to make the songs memorable.

More for the dedicated convert than the curious.

All the tracks on her eighth studio album, Our Bright Future, are as clear as her voice, and the lyrics are simple and honest.

Kasher has zero ability to or interest in dialing down his drama and giving Cursive’s highbrow emo rock room to breathe.

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

Sadly, this landfill isn't biodegradable.

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.

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

It’s refreshing to hear O sing so delicately--a contrast to the over-the-top persona of her slick main gig--we wish she’d let the heartbreak linger a few moments longer.

The pitch-correction software is alive and well even on this record.... This glaring inconsistency is the least of BP3’s missteps.

[The] fourth LP is lazy through and through despite throwing up waves of explosive sex-and-death rock and roll.