Speech Therapy has a lot going for it: it's a solid confessional debut about the singer's experiences as a black South Londoner, the backing tracks are inventive jazzy jams played by sympathetic musicians, and the upshot is an uncompromising suite of female-empowerment snapshots.

Too good to hate, not exciting enough to love, she still makes most of what’s out there sound like phony baloney.

Idea of Happiness never tries to re-imagine the concept of the summer album or, at the very least, the genre of synthpop.

Whereas their 2006 disc, "Moonlighting," was across-the-board impressive but a tad monotonous, their latest hinges on memorable and unpredictable style jumps.

At the core of any Swollen Members project--and Armed to the Teeth, their first in three years, is no exception--is a clean, uncomplicated spread of kaleidoscopic semi-pop bangers from producer Rob the Viking.

Scott-Heron's roughed-up reading of Bill "(Smog)" Callahan's title track certainly does the trick, though his tender take on the Bobby Blue Bland hit "I'll Take Care of You" only makes you realize how much life he's got left in him.

They might have lost a little bit of character, but thankfully Big Troubles remain reliable writers of catchy pop songs.

He avoids being too folksy or slipping into an acoustic coma by layering percussion, electric guitars, and strings when needed. By the end, you’ll feel you’ve been through the same wringer.

Although the record is on the slight side--there’s simply no replacing the inexorable, existential pushing forward of 'Dallas' or 'Smith & Jones Forever'--Berman still has a knack for catching you off guard with moments of strange beauty.

Regardless of their ability to stand out in a crowd, they write tunes sharper than a thumbtack, with words that ramble around in fascinating stream-of-consciousness webs.

Even though damn near every third song sounds designed to sell overpriced sweaters at the Gap, the nectar at the heart of this album is worth the roughage you have to chew through to get there.

Although a three-song offering that sounds like something scraped together using leftovers from a four-year-old album may seem a letdown, it's not, if only because, in those four years, many have tried to mimic Burial's sound but to no avail.

When Longstreth uses his newfound focus to shake up his methods... the results are often startling.

The Stones mined its [sessions] results for years to come, creating little else of value otherwise and entering the nostalgia-act phase of their career, effectively making Some Girls the last gasp of credible new music by the self-proclaimed World's Greatest Rock and Roll Band.

Slightly less coherent than his previous stunner, "Awfully Deep," Slime & Reason has tracks intended to fill dance floors and cuts that are more layered, their intricate beats and rhymes better suited to headphone enjoyment.

Townes does what a tribute album should do: Earle evokes the essence of the honoree without giving up a smidgen of his own individuality.

Sinners Never Sleep is a transitional album, though such efforts rarely bode as well for the future as this does.

Animal is a clear subversion of pop norms amid a sea of synth stabbing and whisky guzzling, a kick in the groin on a dark dance floor.

As confidently current as Say It comes off, it doesn’t sound susceptible to fashion. Given enough attentive ears, the Ruffians may have made a statement that will last a long time--or at least assembled enough ears for the next one.

It's a crucial listen and one of the most rewarding releases of 2012.

Rock Music is free of both the maudlin and the mundane, and oddly rousing, too.

Even with a dozen records behind him, Smith, when he puts his mind to it, remains a master at crafting concise masterpieces of bouncy pop majesty.

Mirror Traffic is the first time he's tried to make a Jicks-as-band record digestible.

Loaded with the sort of multi-tiered melodies you find in the early work of XTC.

On Angles, the band tossed a few tunes out that sounded like carbon-copies of their first album, but on Machine they eschew that kind of market compromise in favor of following their strange muse, even if in the end most listeners will have trouble pegging down who it sounds like.

There’s atmosphere, sure, but it’s less sad-guy sitting room and more 22nd-century juke joint.

Although it’s not a major departure, Dear Science, does have a more open, brighter sound than "Return to Cookie Mountain."

The disc's six tracks clock in at less than 40 minutes, so there isn't really time to screw things up on a royal scale, making Grace/Confusion a fine listen.