Still charismatic, quirky and iconic into her 40s, the singer grounds whatever style the band takes on with a trademark confident and longing delivery.

LeBlanc's garbled vocal delivery only serves to obscure weak lyrics.

There's an underlying complexity here, but ultimately these are bare, potent rhythms created to, in global parlance, make you "werq."

Past the dancehall signifiers (Paul's increasingly strained lilt and tepid syncopated pulse), the new record is brazenly mediocre.

It's a bold, intense and confrontational album that uplifts through catharsis.

This isn't the best Oh Sees album, but at least they probably won't wait too long to try again.

The Baltimore psych-experimental rock band's ninth begins in a youthful and joyous way, but the exuberance unravels into something close to obnoxious chaos.

Meat And Bone finds Spencer at what is arguably his most Bowie-esque.

The Owl City duet is a bit of a misstep, as is the Justin Bieber collaboration, but two just okay songs and 14 great ones is better than most acts can manage on their greatest hits packages, let alone their second album.

Shields is not going to grab you, but it rewards patience.

Most of the songs, including the strong opening track, concern the duo's history as a couple and a band.

It's like Koster has a wellspring of positive vibes that he channels into songs without engaging in schmaltz or clichés.

Toy manage to be psychedelic and craft memorable pop.

The alien textures of St. Vincent's guitar heroics and the crunchy electronic rhythms lurching behind the trombones and sax stabs keep things just on the right side of gleefully weird.

The result is one of their most serene and sonically consistent efforts to date.

For a band so heavily influenced by modern classical music, Mono are not at all restrained, and that's what's great about them.

The album's middle is slow, contemplative and ambient, allowing Marshall's deep-seated melancholy to reveal itself.

Its low frequencies, irregular rhythms and slow-burning dance beats creep into the songs and draw us in deeper.

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

This is fairly arm's-length music--more about beat and texture than emotional confessionals.

This batch of 80s-pop-inspired tunes is packed with earworms and remarkably filler-free.

Pink's weirdness is a major part of his appeal. It just requires a lot of patience.

At best, the songs on their ninth album are bland recreations of their past successes.

It's lush, sophisticated pastiche, best epitomized by debut single Running.

The Seer will definitely raise the band's profile, although its sheer intensity and ugliness may scare people away.

Mainly, it's good for some frivolous fun.

They're still doing that brooding medieval ambient pop thing, but with less drama and inventiveness.

They return to remind us that there's still one side of dance rock they haven't tried: rock. On Four, Bloc Party turn up their amps and tune down their guitars.