Neither as playful as previous efforts nor as spooky as it wants to be, Mirror Mirror is a middling effort by a good band.

While it's true that Was I The Wave? is no booming party-starter, it's hard to deny its emotion and beauty.

Best are her vocals – as strong, clear and distinct as ever – and the energy she infuses into the songs. If she's grown tired of her shtick, you'd never guess it.

There's nothing cerebral about her lyrics; she's a captivating, blunt performer, here emphasizing classic arrangements and raw emotion over poetic invention.

Treading territory similar to Wilco's and working with producer Thom Monahan, they layer drum machine, vintage keyboard, organs and strings atop acoustic folk-rock textures and Cabic's soothing vocals.

The album is a fun novelty, but as with most tributes, there's not much to keep it in rotation.

A Treasure is a snapshot of an era when Young's then-label, Geffen, went to war with him for not representing himself in a commercially viable way.

Many other songs retread themes of self-doubt and disillusionment, reaching previous levels of intimacy but without taking us anywhere new. Musically, Green does take C&C into somewhat unfamiliar, heavier territory.

It's a lot to wrap your head around, especially given the brief run time, but it also hits with a powerful immediacy, even on first listen. Justifies the hype.

In the end, Horses is another addition to a catalogue short on standouts.

he 10 unconventionally structured songs are less shaky-tent-in-a-snowstorm and more ambitious-skyscraper-blasting-into-the sky.

Throughout, the material is simultaneously current and nostalgic, recalling the optimism and discovery of the 60s and 70s, especially on Progress, sung by Jim James of My Morning Jacket.

They're all talented musicians, so it's actually a pleasure to hear them go off on the occasional jazz fusion tangent, which they approach with the raw enthusiasm of a garage-punk band (except that they sound closer to King Crimson).

On 4, she's still missing a real sense of vulnerability but steps out from behind the club jams with beautifully nuanced mid-tempo production.

The unending lights and sounds of Bangkok, Manila and Beijing inspired the duo's most electronic and propulsive album to date.

Despite the flaws, you can't deny that Segall's got real talent, which would be wasted if he just stuck to the psych/garage throwback formula.

The subversive elements often feel like unnecessary posturing, but the production wisely hides them behind more obvious assets like sunny pop hooks, singalong choruses and Madeline Follin's childlike voice.

Battles have a fascinating, distinct sound of their own; they don't need Gary Numan crooning overtop.

His songs are structured around one big, hummable hook and not much else. The L.A. band has a knack for that, but we can't help wondering if they have anything more sophisticated in store. We'd rather have the next MGMT than the next Maroon 5.

The result is dreamy to a fault, with song fragments submerged in extended instrumental intros and outros.

Like the best dance music, The Drawing Board has one foot firmly planted in the early origins of house, while still sounding completely modern and forward-thinking.

White-reggae lovers haven't got a lot to latch onto here, since from the first strums of opener Mountain Top, Soundclash appear to be taking a welcome leap into a Vampire Weekend-type indie vibe.

The melodies are a bit more major key, but if you listen closely, the lyrics are as gloomy as ever (in a good way).

Rhys has weightier material in his body of work, but for sheer pop pleasure this album can't be beat.

The ukulele, while a beautiful, serene instrument, is arguably limited, especially as the centrepiece of an album this long. Vedder's distinct baritone complements it, but his chords eventually become repetitive.

There are some great garage rock tunes, but too much filler to make for a great album. Maybe they should have trimmed a few of the 16 songs for a shorter but stronger work.

Fucked Up's grand ambition may one day be their downfall, but right now it has produced an intricate, rewarding beast of an album, their magnum opus.

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.