Mr. Impossible is easily Black Dice's most accessible album yet, but that's not saying much. It's still very uneasy listening.

Aside from flailing a bit at the end, the London group’s third full-length hits its mark.

You expect the worst from Police faves like Roxanne and Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic, since those tunes were tautly written, with minimal pop intricacy. But the RPCO adds an interesting melancholic layer to the former, giving it more drama, as orchestras tend to do.

His newest album, on the other hand, is all technique and no emotion.

You'd figure we'd at least get a one-off novelty track, but the flat, repetitive melodies and gimmicky rhymes even fail to do that.

He’s much better at showing off his record collection on the well-chilled "Ice Castles," which purports to be a James Pants mix disc.

Unfortunately, the "deluxe edition" is bloated with filler, and the shorter "standard edition" omits some of the more creative songs instead of dropping the duds.

Convinced he's some kind of rock revivalist, he's more Bob Seger, Skynyrd and Hank Jr. than anything else here. That works in his favour for most of the album, aside from a few misses like the generically foot-stompin' 'So Hot' and the gospel-infused singalong 'Don't Tell Me U Love Me.'

It’s rare to hate one half of an album so much while genuinely enjoying the other.

Fun and charming in places, barely listenable in others.

While occasionally generic, nothing on Shine On is as annoying as their breakthrough single, Are You Gonna Be My Girl.

At its best, Untitled sounds like a compilation of his previous work--a smooth-voiced crooner reading a sex thesaurus over R&B beats.

The production is just off-kilter enough to set them apart from the folk-rock pack, and they wisely resist the temptation to use their sprawling lineup as an excuse to imitate Arcade Fire.

This much-anticipated follow-up essentially repeats the foot-stomping, banjo-picking formula, but scrubs away the subtlety.

The odd bit of distortion on I'm Ready and Watch Me Go disrupts the otherwise pristine party, while a heavy flirtation with piano house on Old Love/New Love returns us to life-affirming territory.

Its formulaic songwriting and middling, lite-pop arrangements seem more concerned with top 40 appeal than with maximizing the richness and openness of his voice.

Replacement guitarist Luke Paquin is serviceable but stays in the shadows, while vocalist Steve Bays sheds more of HHH's former skin on a sonically big record that offers only rare doses of the pulsating new wave punk energy they once emitted.

With the exception of the exuberant 'Pop Champagne,' which was a Ron Brownz single before Jones hopped on it, Reign is a washout.

While the dancehall-inflected 'Dirty Disco Dub' suffers from cheesy vocal samples, the second half of the record settles down into better but still well-trod territory reminiscent of better Aphex Twin and Brian Eno.

Deep, wobbly bass, twinkling synths, crisp programmed drums and esoteric guest spots by Holly Miranda and Tegan and Sara's Sara Quin seem crafted with blogs in mind, ensuring the album's freshness in the moment but leaving it vulnerable once the hype dies down.

Sometimes it feels like he's competing too hard with the intensity of the big, expensive-sounding production--especially on the mid-tempo numbers.

A sprawled-out, futuristic tribute to Diddy's own celebrity.

Lindsey Buckingham appears on the quiet Soldier's Angel, and he and Nicks interlock in a unique way that tells us these two, at least musically, are bound together for life.

By no means a terrifically unique or fantastic sophomore album, it still manages to avoid mediocrity, and not just because our expectations were so low to begin with.

No doubt Kingston can write a tune that sticks in the ear like a small insect. But just like having an insect in your ear, once the novelty wears off, it starts to get irritating.

Most of the album is kinda ho-hum and overly mild in tone, as is Pitts's voice.

The result is exactly what you'd expect: loud and hard garage rock devoid of personality or originality.

While Do Things is "easy" music, music that sounds great on a boat in the sun or accompanying front-porch Coronas, it's not likely to stick with you after a listen or two.