LaVette has little rapport with Hood, and her uneasiness interpreting his lyrics and the strange cover choices (Elton John's 'Talking Old Soldiers,' Willie Nelson's 'Somebody Pick Up My Pieces') comes through in every vocal performance.

The more introspective moments show songwriting potential that's worth getting excited about, but at times the disc coasts along too comfortably to be truly remarkable.

The songs are ridiculously catchy, albeit predictable and overly comfortable in that 70s folk rock vibe he loves so much.

Hakeem Seriki's sophomore album kicks off with his heavy single 'Hip Hop Police,' with guest Slick Rick, one of the strongest rap songs of 07.

It sounds very much like the disjointed collection of rickety epics about fucking and frustration you'd expect from a BSS disc.

The experimentation pays off.

Only real problem is that the foursome tend to write the same songs over and over again, this time thinly veiled in arena- and hair-metal swagger, but still too similar structurally to sound like they've challenged themselves.

Akron/Family do joy justice. You could focus on the psychedelic country folk experimentation and the odd song structures, but what you really take away from this album is pure childlike joy, even during the darker minor-key moments.

Everything clicks on Let's Stay Friends, from blasts of Rocket from the Crypt bombastic rock on The Equestrian to Fugazi-sharp guitars backing Tim Harrington's feverish, controlled vocals on Patty Lee.

On their fourth album, the goal continues to be to outdo themselves in terms of heavier-than-thou riffs, thundering drums and ominous aggression.

50 is back with his larger-than-life persona and even bigger Mack 11, remaking his classic first album for the second time, with tiresome results.

West delivers another failsafe collection of sharp, soulful songs, exposing his new affinity for synths and electronic drums while adding new lyrical ground to that campus-sized ego.

It may be exactly what fans have been waiting for, but you have to wonder how long the band can keep using the same templates.

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.

Add an ability to string lyrical and musical narratives together to create a complete whole and Bluefinger should serve as yet another highlight in an already stellar body of work.

The range is fantastic but never jarring.

Their second album is full of clean, infectious dance numbers that bring to mind both New Order and Peter, Bjorn and John.

Just cold, robotic electro beats with Wiley's aggressive cockney flows on the usual subjects.

The rest of Autumn Of The Seraphs sounds a bit more meticulous, though it's self-assured in its footing.

This is still effervescent, hook-based pop, but it eschews the Delgados' more orchestrated moments in favour of simpler instrumentation, whipped into cabaret-ish arrangements or pared down into frantic post-punk, with driving lines of ringing single-note bass and guitar.

The SOLs are skilled at crafting songs rooted in striking specificity.

On the stylistically diverse Good Bad Not Evil, they confront many of the problems facing America today, taking short, sharp stabs at the Katrina disaster, neurotoxins destroying the upper middle class, juvenile delinquency, false prophets and an apocalyptic holy war.

Henry, fresh from co-producing the Knocked Up soundtrack, doesn't have an exceptional voice. It's croaky, with little range, and the piano- and acoustic-based music on Civilians (out Sept 11) is kept unobtrusive, serving his writerly lyrics well.

The surging crescendos and improv freedom give his wordy songs a refreshing dynamic that could gain the 41-year-old folk troubadour an entirely new audience.

It's more tripped-out and druggy, a looser version of the songwriting that gave Skeleton its immediate punch.

On La Radiolina, an unmistakable molotov cocktail of fierce resistance anthems, Manu Chao continues to do what he does best.

The rock 'n' role playing of Going Way Out isn't really as satisfying on disc as it may have seemed in the planning stages.

The album is as solid as its maker's last name but so predictable you could set your Flavor Flav clock to it.