The constants are there; the group come off as authentic in their earnestness, even with lyrics ("I love your celebrity/the VPL in the SUV") that might look slipshod on paper. But no new ground is being broken.

It's a broad spectrum of styles, but sometimes that's just another way to describe the comfort of being your (multiple) selves.

It's more like the album we should all discover after they've broken through with their second or third long-player, when we'll all be a lot more forgiving.

If Apollo Kids is a warm-up, we can expect monster things from Ghost in the New Year.

It's an atmosphere-setting collection, with little in the way of memorable riffs or melodies. But that's the point: Earth has needed to slow its roll for a minute now. Here's the inspiration.

Still, like the lovable Muppet, Flaws is just a little too green to have any major impact.

Everything feels dead in the desert, but Return is rife with life.

Sublime production quality and danceability aside, this mix scores as a chronicle of American pop music that elicits a dual layer of nostalgia: the first for the sampled songs themselves, the second for the thrill of the novelty of early mash-ups.

From the opening "Variation 1" to the acoustic closer, "Sous le ciel de Paris," Ribot's phrasing is slow and contemplative, so each elegantly chiseled note stands as a beatific example of his virtuosity.

There's nothing particularly wrong with what Minaj has given us - her pipes are worthy of wide-ranging pop stardom - but the album is a misallocation of the talent and quirk that thrust her into the spotlight in the first place.

Brushes with the law and a cocaine habit sent his personal life on a turn to the dark side, something that's soon evident over the course of Mr. Rager's 17 remorseful tracks.

I can feel my IQ slipping a few notches with the passage of each track on this disc, and gloriously so: it takes brains and balls to make pop this smart sound so dumb.

Fantasy is the sound of an artist who is so far from shunning the spotlight that the firepower of the wattage pointed at him is a full-on supernova.

If the down-and-out, early-MCR-worshipping emo set need the equivalent of an "It Gets Better" video to remind them how awesome life can be, no document could be more spirited and persuasive than Danger Days.

We'll never know what goes on behind the helmets, but who cares? The sheer audacity of this action-movie-reboot soundtrack is its own reward.

The result may surprise some just looking to get lost in Glowstick Land: sure, there are plenty of K-hole zone-outs, but just as often Zimmerman puts songcraft and danceability ahead of the usual sci-fi-filter tricks.

The shoegazy noise genre is again slowly creeping toward the pop spectrum, and Sports might push it even farther toward the indie mainstream, but it needs a new tag - let's call it blackout pop.

Inasmuch as Stereolab have accomplished pretty much everything they could, Not Music feels like a passive retread.

WYWH is a darker, thinner, more digitized affair whose only compelling moments come courtesy of a new-found sex appeal of the disco variety.

At this stage, Small Black are a charming but undeveloped outfit. Moving from an aquarium to a sea (or even a pond) would be an intriguing next step.

Though no new ground is broken, the classically trained pianist and Berklee alumna shows her confidence and talent with this strong break-up record right after the quirky cool of last year's Taller Children.

Part of the problem is Rihanna's essential blandness in a post-Gaga/post-Idol pop market, but mostly it comes down to the siren-song nature of her amazingly recognizable voice.

For the Ghosts Within descends into a strange netherworld bordered by art pop, jazz, and classical that few seek to visit.

Like everything Eno touches, the album is riddled with baffling and stimulating forays into unexpected territories.

National Ransom isn't the midlife masterpiece that obsessives have been pining for, but its finer points are worth seeking out, in all their sepia-tinted glory.

For evidence as to why labeling subgenres of electronic music is tedious, look no further than this debut LP from UK collective Darkstar.

Down There harnesses the core duality upon which the AC empire is built: a warm and pure pop æsthetic folded harmoniously into layers of murky swirls and drips.

The Fool feels like a séance, with guitarist Emily Kokal and her fellow female vocalists focusing their ghostly calls on a mysterious you.