Everything is suited for Babyface, often to the point where the songs don't sound tremendously different from what he has written during the last several years.

The good bits can get lost between the production and falsettoed harmonies. Which is too bad, because Seward has talent, a talent that definitely appears on the album, and perhaps enough of it to put him where he and his label want.

While the balancing act between the Hives' new and old approaches is a little lopsided, making this album less amazing than "Tyrannosaurus Hives," The Black and White Album should satisfy most fans while giving them a few challenging moments to chew on, too.

A more electronic, better built, and altogether better deal than "Monsters," thanks mostly to the singer and-don't-you-forget-to-mention songwriter's better sense of self.

Blackout is state-of-the-art dance-pop, a testament to skills of the producers and perhaps even Britney being somehow cognizant enough to realize she should hire the best, even if she's not at her best.

Bemis may be seeking to defend the emo genre, but his album instead illustrates the difference between run-of-the-mill emo--which, indeed, comprises most of the genre's output--and the imaginative, skillful tunes that flourish here. The only major downside is the album's length.

Things are decidedly darker this time around; although his music has always been psychedelic, Raposa's In the Vines aligns itself more with a bad trip than lazy, woozy-eyed stoner fare.

Shocking Pinks is an intriguing introduction for listeners who want to catch up with [Harte's] ever-growing body of work.

You've got to credit Brown and his songwriters and producers for cranking out another handful of easy to remember hits that cover the bases, from upbeat and carefree numbers to go-to mixtape ballads that push all the right target-demographic buttons.

While Duran Duran have worked steadily since their 1993 comeback, "The Wedding Album," they haven't always sounded as stylish and creatively tuned-in as they do on 2007's Red Carpet Massacre.

And so even though As I Am is a flawed work--a little too poppy, a little too clichéd--it is also indicative of what Keys can and will do, and that she is someone, thanks to her curiosity, intelligence, and natural talent, who will be able to mature and grow for years to come

Dirt Farmer is a hard-edged but compassionate and full-hearted set of roots music from a master of the form, and it's a welcome, inspiring return to form for Levon Helm after a long stretch of professional and personal setbacks.

The majority of X is exactly what it's meant to be: a collection of songs by a pop artist who is aware of her past achievements and doubly aware of her need to stay relevant in the face of unwanted diversion.

The softly spooked-out acid folk of The Pirate's Gospel is a captivating debut from Alela Diane, whose enthusiasm and ability for a then-extremely-fresh learner on guitar is quite something.

For those who find themselves lingering on the fringes after her debut, There's No Home is the greeting card to dive in with both ears and get your ears drenched in pleasure.

It may take multiple spins for a few songs to really find their footing with fans, but those people will surely be rewarded handsomely in the end.

It's a highly polished, professional sounding debut, with Lewis hitting all the right notes even when she warbles up and down the scale.

M.A.D.E. is Scarface doing everything right, delivering those cold, hardcore rhymes over uncomplicated, soulful beats.

It's a double-sided hook that clears the murkiness from the remaining five tracks, while simultaneously improving the first half (especially tracks like 'California Girls' and 'Please Stop Dancing') when spun for a second or third time.

Uneven as it may be, Jukebox is still a worthwhile portrait of Chan Marshall's artistry.

He can certainly sing, but years of providing seamless harmonies for Gibbard have given his pipes a clear, breathy quality that threatens to lull the listener into a trance during the album's final stretch.

Many of her fans will no doubt be delighted with this artful yet accessible return, and hopefully, those who embraced the younger, wackier, campy aspect of lang's persona will allow for the fact that there isn't anything close to that here.

Rain balances sophistication and edgy smarts with a winning mixture of grace and confidence.

Matt Costa's sophomore effort, Unfamiliar Faces, finds the singer/songwriter delving into similar territory to his 2006 debut, "Songs We Sing," crafting hummable, somewhat intricate AM pop-influenced tracks.

If "Love and Distance" was the album that pushed the Helio Sequence off the rails, Keep Your Eyes Ahead is the sound of the duo getting back on track.

The whining hasn't let up (see 'No Love' and 'Generation'), but the fun hasn't either. Credit the producers.

It may be considerably more commercial than their first album, but Promises Promises is, crucially, also much, much better.

A winsome and not entirely stable treat.

High-pitched coos gatecrash the song's chorus like they've just been kicked out of the Rolling Stones' "Sympathy for the Devil," and a harmonized keyboard solo injects a bit of the Steve Miller Band into an otherwise minimalist, Southern-styled slow jam. Such unexpected moves seem to be a new thing for Collett, and they combine to make this his strongest solo effort yet.

The album's not faultless: as with Deerhunter, Cox has the tendency to try too hard to be profound, wanting so badly to say something important that he sounds trite and forced, and untrustworthy, but when he's able to forget about conveying some kind of meaning and instead focuses on the actual music, his message--one of pain and love and feeling lost, of trying desperately to understand--is undeniable.

Backwoods Barbie might not break the bank out there, and it would take a good deal of marketing and luck for any of these tracks to hit the top of the new country charts, but it shows that Parton can still deliver the package in fine style and only the fools among us would ever count her down and out, no matter how many bluegrass albums she does.

You get a lot of elastic, post-punk guitar explorations (à la Mission of Burma)--as evidenced by such standouts as the album opening 'Your Movement' and 'Tremble.' But then just when you think you have the Shackelton lads figured out, the Joy Division-ish 'Soft Heart' comes peaking around the corner.

Still, the best songs have more than enough energy and creativity to prevent this album from being an Awkward sophomore slump.

This is not a remarkable album by any stretch, although its packaging is--it contains a punch-out mobile as a booklet--but it is a further step in the development of a singular and ever elusive artist who possesses a truckload of talent, but is still unsure of which direction to head to realize it all.

While it's never clear how much Snoop actually wrote, the ghostwriters he's admitted to hiring have the thug script down and rarely disappoint. What is disappointing is the woefully long track list, the redundant numbers, and the trimming required to keep from drifting off before the majestic closer, 'Can't Say Goodbye' with the Gap Band's Charlie Wilson, rolls around.

Eleventh Hour is certainly not a disappointment: Del's as good of a rapper as ever, and the way he fits his words into the beats, playing with his and their cadence, is truly spectacular, but he needs to challenge himself--and his listeners--more, lyrically and beat-wise, instead of relying on the same tried-and-true methods, if he really wants to continue his legacy.

Most of the time, however, the band's blazing energy and instrumental swagger is able to lift your spirits despite the depressing subject matter.

On Trouble in Dreams, Bejar and Destroyer have also shown that they can continue to write the literate, complex songs they and their audience love and expand and explore new melodic territory successfully.

NY's Finest is a good, solid listen from a deservedly respected member of the hip-hop community, but it's also nothing that will blow you away.

At times, The Odd Couple is a more beautiful record than its predecessor. But all too often Cee-Lo relies on the same sort of lyrical cipher as on St. Elsewhere, although none of them are as effective.

On Last Night, Moby is as blissfully out of touch with modern club music as he is current.

Adding harmonies from Curtis Hall, Ron Lewis, and Jeff Montano helps to thicken the melody, and Grand Archives revolves around the strong singalong hooks that turn this debut into a soft rock record for the indie crowd.

To be sure, it's an accomplishment and one that showcases the Black Keys' deepening skills but at times it's hard not to miss how the duo used to grab a listener by the neck and not let go.

Supergrass come crashing back to life with Diamond Hoo Ha, an album every bit as cheerfully gaudy and vulgar as its title.

The simple arrangements and hands-off production add to the gentle but decisive impact of The Good Life, and the result is a fine calling card for a young singer/songwriter who may not have worked out every last detail of his sound but clearly knows where he's going, and it happens to be a place worth visiting.

The riffs are huge, the rhythms are sneaky and brutal, and the "guitarmonies" are effortless, due with little doubt to the band's epic touring schedule. In fact, everything's been turned up, except the vocals.

The record has a sizeable amount of drama or gravitas as well.

Less busy instrumentally than P:ano, the band still deals out polyrhythms generously and peppers its tunes with a vast arsenal of instruments that include expansive lap steel, woodwinds, and string and horn sections.

At this point, Lady Antebellum is a group that seems to know the basics of contemporary country but isn't ready to move beyond them or redefine them for its own ends. Still, this is a good beginning.

So even though these tunes remain brief and concise (only one song, 'Your English Is Good,' tops the three-minute mark), they're also varied, which makes Tokyo Police Club's official debut seem less like the work of hyper-caffeinated teens and more like the promise of a smart, evolving band.

Even if Kensington Heights is the Constantines' least satisfying album, the band's sound is never less than mighty; it's just disappointing how easy it is to let so many songs here fade into the background

Jim is most reminiscent of the Southern deep soul of the late '60s, although recorded so well (and so dry) that it betrays its lineage. Add to that an assortment of unobtrusive guests (including Nikka Costa, Gonzales, Peaches, and Alex Acuña) and the result is a record that reveals soul and sincerity.

They are all solid examples of the band's unique blend of indie sweetness, psychedelic experimentation, and solid songcraft.

While Elf Power haven't started to turn into Steely Dan on us, after a dozen years Elf Power has a lineup that can lay down a solid groove, add tasty guitar and keyboard accents and generally sound like a for-real band rather than a music fan's goof.

Hardcore fans will be down with every cold hard minute, everybody else gets a B+ effort, and the hip-hop game as a whole gets a really good reason to save Prodigy's place at the table for the next three-and-a-half years.

The trademark Proclaimers sound was still there, including the finger-snapping opening title track, the staccato guitar that introduces "In Recognition," and the thoughtful lyrics, discussing religion on 'New Religion' and 'If There's a God.'

It's intriguing that Live in Liverpool is the Gossip's first release for Columbia's Red Ink imprint--it's not exactly an ideal introduction to the Gossip's fiery music, but it is a great testament to why fans are so devoted to the band.

While the American Smile is a worthy follow-up to Rainbow and Pink, it's the Japanese version of the album that makes it a masterpiece.

The nice thing about the soulful shimmer of We Sing is that it's so slick that it's easy to ignore the gibberish spilling out of Mraz's mouth and just enjoy the sunny, easy sound.

This time out, he's a single short and couple songs too long, but his back is strong enough to carry the weight, proving once again he's one of the Dirty South's most reliable voices.

It's mildly disappointing that the Futureheads' first independently released music sounds more conventional than what they issued on other labels, but This Is Not the World is still a solidly enjoyable album on its own terms.

Great Vengeance and Furious Fire is too uneven to be great, but its handful of fantastic singles makes for an extremely promising debut.

This is the sort of psychedelia that space rockers and Nuggets fans alike can come together over.

If you don't like the Beach Boys, you won't like this.

This isn't Local H's best album, but it's certainly their most daring and emotionally naked, and the results are truly impressive.

Bring Ya to the Brink is one of the more intriguing detours along the way.

The bottom line is that this diversity is not a lack of focus, but growth and development that make the band stand out from the pack, making the effort to spin this a few times yield very big rewards.

There's a pronounced chamber music feel to much of the instrumentation, particularly with the liberal use of cello and violin drones, as well as harp accents. Often it's darker and tougher, however, than some other artists who follow similar lines.

Velocifero isn't as dramatic a step forward as Ladytron's other albums.

For Carly Simon's fans, this will ultimately be a most welcome return to her songwriting form.

It's a lot like "Jagged Little Pill," but musically this is far closer to the muddled mystic worldbeat of "Supposed Former Infatuation Junkie," thanks in large part to her collaboration with Guy Sigsworth, best known for his productions with Björk and Madonna.

Like a lot of second albums that aren't exactly a slump, Here We Stand is more accomplished than dynamic, but there are still quite a few enjoyable moments here.

It has that same slightly unnerved but ultimately comforting effect, and like Neon Golden, you might want to take it everywhere with you, even when you can only replay it in your mind.

If you've been sticking by the group for long, you'll be rewarded by El Rey's brutal honesty, hard-won wisdom, and first-rate songcraft, and you'll relish the sound of a band trying to recapture a brilliant sound from their past and succeeding completely.

As it stands, A Thousand Shark's Teeth is beautiful, more than a little insular, and ultimately intriguing for anyone willing to listen closely.

Loverly is the only reason to avoid imposing a moratorium on the very tired standards genre that has become the bane of jazz in recent years. It cannot be recommended highly enough.

While Indestructible doesn't meddle with the melodic hard-hitting Pantera-inspired formula that fueled its predecessors, the dreaded nu-metal tag that followed the band out of the turn of the century seems wholly eradicated.

Watson Twins' first proper album, but Fire Songs at once confirms the promise of their earlier EP and their work with Jenny Lewis while staking out a stronger and more complex identity of their own, and hopefully it's the first of several personal and compelling albums from the siblings.

The Hard Way, his debut for Hear Music, is a tad tougher--the horns are more prominent and sharper, Hunter's guitar has more bite to it, and the rhythms cut deeper--and quicker; at times Hunter veers closer to soul-rock than he has in the past, but he's still working well within his favorite genre.

The compelling three-quarters of Definition of Real that seems to have crawled out of the gutter proves that Plies is best off when he does it the ski-mask way.

Strength in Numbers turns out to be a nice comeback, particularly during the tracks that find that sweet spot between bubbling electronics and stadium Brit-rock.

The album is still enjoyable and damn catchy in spots — but knowing as much as we do about this talented trio, it seems like it could have been so much better.

Despite a few stumbles, Identified achieves its goal: it anticipates that Hudgens' fans will outgrow "High School Musical" soon enough, and gives her a better chance of staying relevant to them as they move on to other kinds of pop music.

Even with its wobbly mix of yesterday, today, a better tomorrow, T.O.S. is much closer to classic than failure and should reassure fans this slow-moving tank is pointed in the exactly right direction.

Splash's bratty Lil Wayne-meets-Michael Henderson falsetto can wear thin across 66 sprawling minutes (the crew would benefit from a second lead voice), but something far more problematic would have to be in play to impair this stomping good time.

Exit Strategy of the Soul isn't just an experiment that succeeds, it's one of Sexsmith's strongest and most affecting works to date, and it's truly a pleasure to hear.

As with most endeavors in uncharted territory, some songs miss the mark (an unnecessary ambient keyboard instrumental "Flush," for instance), but the straightforward beasts like "Billy Fish," "The Smiling Cobra," and the majestic title song "Nude with Boots" showcase the Melvins at the top of their game, while the lumbering brutality of "It Tastes Better Than the Truth" and "The Savage Hippy" shows that their warped sensibilities are still intact and that they're far from softening, even after almost 25 years in the game.

Despite its faults, it is one of the most unique albums released by a major label in 2008.

Musically, Mellencamp seems to have been listening closely to the first five Bob Dylan albums, paying more attention to the first of them, the largely traditional, folk-blues-styled Bob Dylan, than the last, the folk-rock "Bringing It All Back Home."

Dismantle, reconstruct, then split, and The Greatest Story Ever Told earns decent marks--it's just hard not to focus on the handful of cuts that point to what could have been.

Though a few songs border on being filler, The Black Ghosts is still a promising debut.

The sound effects that link the songs and clumsy tape edits seem a tad forced,and some of the titles and lyrical themes seem recycled from We All Belong. That being said, Fate is still a thoroughly enjoyable album from a fine band.

While Breakout isn't as much of a breakthrough as it could be, it still moves Miley closer to an identity and career outside of Hannah.

By letting all of his sides surface here, Springfield winds up with a satisfying album, as it gets to his sober nature without abandoning his fizzy gifts.

Something for All of Us... manages to connect without really saying much, which is tough to pull off, even for a veteran of one of the underground rock league's most beloved teams.

This collection of their singles released between March and September 2007 (plus three harder-to-find tracks) is an entrancing introduction to the band, and it stokes the fires of anticipation for their first full-length album.

Fasciinatiion clicks enough of the time to make it a step forward from "Wet From Birth," and despite its unevenness, at times it can be fasciinatiing.

The fact that the music does feel relaxed, even when it bears his classicist affectations, does make Conor Oberst markedly different than the music of Bright Eyes, and makes it a worthwhile project--even if it proves to be a detour instead of a new beginning.