Modern Times may not contain a single song that would rank among Dylan's all-time best, but it doesn't have to.

On Three's Co., Rademaker's songwriting has matured, which combined with the bigger production, makes for a thoroughly enjoyable and satisfying listen.

The album lacks the central focus that defined Yorn's earlier work, at times feeling like a grab-bag of style and sound.

His best work since 1999's Blackout.

The songs are imitative and lackluster.

It's an often frustrating listen, but in the end the album is a triumph.

An awkward, uneven record that comes over like something they made in a week instead of something that was continually pushed back for more than a year.

The thinness of the sound, the lack of any edge, and the fact that most of these songs start off terribly prove too much to overcome, but Razorlight is not nearly the disaster that it could've been.

The Future Crayon... succeeds in being just as captivating as the band's proper albums -- or perhaps even more so.

The album rewards multiple listens with its sonic depth and subtle structural beauty. It has followed Lamchop tradition and evolved from its predecessor, but it lacks the unruly attitude that makes the band distinct.

The urgency and bone-deep brutality of The Sunset Tree may be missing here, but Get Lonely is a gentle, lucid and honest reality that works as a testament to Darnielle's keen instincts for situational observation.

With 1968, Pajo... may have finally found a style he feels comfortable putting his name on.

By merely keeping up, they don't do much to separate themselves from the flock of young bands crossing the Atlantic -- again and again.

The Body, The Blood, The Machine is the holy grail of anti-political/anti-religion records to come out in the last seven years.

Millan's first solo effort is solid, but it feels like more of an experiment than anything.

As with Icky Mettle and then with Crooked Fingers, Bachmann once again has provided a taut and startling proper debut; his writing feels completely reenergized.

If Donuts was Jay Dee's swan song, The Shining is a glimpse of what his work may have sounded like in the future.

Kelis is one of the mainstream's most exciting artists right now, and she continues to defy expectations with Kelis Was Here.

There is nothing to dislike about Classics, but I get the feeling they're holding back.

The sing-alongs abound and the keyboard definitely calls for some attention from the dance floor, but the redundancy of these twelve songs is bound to induce a few headaches.

Although it's a top-heavy record, Waterloo to Anywhere gets stronger with each listen; the melodies come through and the energy that at first seems restrained starts to break free.

Comets on Fire is the band Wolfmother wishes it had the balls to be.

Here, Friedberger has once again proven his capabilities. At times they impress, but too often they confound, and it's beginning to seem as if he's too comfortable in his distance.

It's a distinct type of pop that could become truly memorable when he actually sits down to compose a full album.

Christ Illusion is not a throwback; it's something new steeped in something old.

Unfortunately, Made in Brooklyn doesn't have the same urgency as its predecessor and will likely fall into the middle of the solo-record pack.

In the future, the guys in Jurassic 5 need to do a better job picking their friends and their song subjects.

In My Mind has several potential hit singles, but taken as a whole it falls dramatically short.