The lyrics are bizarre ("I'm DJ Khaled / I'm a daikon radish") and confrontational ("RapGenius.com is white devil sophistry / Urban Dictionary is for demons with college degrees") but also cohesive and purposeful.

Estella and guitarist/singer Eric Cardona trade quirky elocution and harmonies with twinkling, twangy arrangements that toe the fine line between charming and cutesy.

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.

Hard-driving Helen Marnie-sung tune Melting Ice, meanwhile, is surely Ladytron's steely attempt at self-aware irony.

New wave influences are also apparent, specifically when the vocals channel Lene Lovich or Ric Ocasek. These vocal quirks don't always work, and a couple of songs don't hold up to the album's best, but this is a fun introduction nevertheless.

As the title suggests, the band is evolving gradually rather than in dramatic swells.

Despite the evident talent of his backup band – vocalists Patti Griffin and Jill Sobule, guitarist Smokey Hormel, bassist Don Was and Giant Sand's Howe Gelb on piano – it takes a while to get into, in part because the arrangements are often so busy that they verge on chaotic.

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.

Girls' have traded their early work's immediacy for something that requires more patience but goes much deeper if you've got the time.

Not sure what's more embarrassing: the Good Charlotte/Atreyu sleaze rock take on Dr. Teeth's Night Life or the idea that this tribute's hope is to make adults want to feel like kids again. Either way, the whole thing deserves a Miss Piggy karate chop.

Casually clever lyrics, gloriously fuzzy guitar leads and that immediately identifiable off-kilter pop genius dominate.

It's not quite perfect: his voice is the star of the show but is occasionally buried under the clever beats and production. But that's a small complaint about someone who's looking more and more like one of the most exciting artists to emerge this year.

It's not all bad. Many of the other 13 songs on her 11th studio album (financed by pledgemusic, with a percentage going to animal shelters) show flashes of the melodic brilliance of her early 90s output.

Even when she strays into overwrought moodiness during the disc's trip-hoppy second half, her menacing omnipotence has a way of willing you onward.

The features wouldn't be so bad if Game didn't yield to the wattage and personalities of his co-stars. (Again, he can rap when he tries.) Used as a constant crutch, however, they quell his ferocity.

Not every song succeeds, and the best moments tend to be the danciest.

He's still getting more women than a taping of Ellen, but on Tha Carter IV – his most emo album to date – it sounds like what he really needs is a hug.

Nevertheless, I'm With You is a strong record, with Brendan's Death Song and Police Station among the highlights, especially considering the challenge of replacing Frusciante's creativity.

Most impressive is the lightness of touch Hynes brings to his arrangements.

CSS are so desperate to do something new that they never stick with their strengths.

Because The Night, a Bruce Springsteen co-write whose lyrics she penned for Fred Smith before they were married, still holds special power, especially this remastered version.

The record, lacking choruses or pop hooks, isn't one to turn to for instant gratification. Instead, it's an engaging marriage of words and music.

The Miami radio DJ and Terror Squad member takes few stylistic chances, making We The Best Forever a mostly tedious listen despite its flashes of lyrical invention.

Gucci spews absurd, nihilistic imagery that demands attention, while Waka's penchant for repetition and siren-call ad libs can be magnetic.

No doubt they know to bury weaker material; the last few songs are less memorable.

[It] treads a fine line between charming and cringe-worthy.

There's not enough doo-wop or doom on much of the material, and their willingness to get far too goofy with the lyrics and delivery gives the sense that they're not taking the project seriously.

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.