In all, My Morning Jacket may be a journey through the past, but it's also a solid step into something rock & roll has been missing for an awfully long time in the mainstream arena: melody, extremely catchy and well-written songs that aren't afraid of the mainstream, and a love of the great pop continuum that translates into something new.

Bloodflowers boasts all of the Cure's signatures: stately tempos, languid melodies, spacious arrangements, cavernous echoes, morose lyrics, keening vocals, long running times. If you want something transcendent, you're out of luck, since the album falls short of the mark, largely because it sounds too self-conscious.

The Desaturating Seven is unlikely to attract new fans. Typically eccentric, it's an interesting exercise, although nonessential outside the sphere of Primus/Claypool devotees.

Starcrawler seem less like they want to lead you astray and more like they're acting out in hopes of getting their parents' attention, which isn't always good for these songs. But the music on Devour You is just raw and sweaty enough to conjure up some forgotten after-school special about falling in with the wrong crowd, and if that isn't hitting a bull's-eye for them, it's at least somewhere on the target.

Covered in a shiny electronic gloss, the album flits between slow-burners and mellow pop.

Underworld never sound particularly tired on Oblivion with Bells. Granted, the music is less innovative than before, and also more quiet, which makes Hyde's vocals more critical than they've ever been.

For the most part, A Flash Flood of Colour revels in a unique, organized chaos, and while it's a demanding and often exhausting listen, it's a call to arms which the flagging U.K. guitar band scene could do with more of.

If she feels marginally more connected here than she did on "Blackout," it's a Pyrrhic victory, as Circus never feels as sleek or addictive as its predecessor.

Call it sloppy pop (or poppy slop), but even with the raw aesthetic and tinny resonance, the songs are entirely sweet and hummable, sometimes to the point of being unshakable.

Moneen's 2009 release, The World I Want to Leave Behind, is certainly a sign of the times in the rock world--intricate musical bits are combined with emo-like vocals, and in the process, the group never forfeits the importance of melody.

If Down to the River isn't as adventurous or hungry or exploratory as any Allman Brothers Band album, there's nevertheless a deliberately cultivated warmth that's designed to appeal to Allman fans-and, given a shot, Down to the River may well appeal to that audience.

There's a consistency to the EP that can get lost when a band is trying to work their way toward a longer running time, so although fans might not be getting a big a dose of new Down material as they might crave, they're certainly reaping the benefits of quality over quantity.

Even with the R&B-leaning roster of guests -- Jill Scott and Snoh Aalegra are also on board -- Alicia is Keys' most moderate work, seemingly hedged with an objective to appeal to as many listeners as possible. There's at least no doubting the artist's intent to heal and uplift, and she puts it across with some of her most nuanced vocals.

A little fine-tuning here and a couple tweaks there and the follow-up might really be something special. Until then, Nap Eyes are solidly promising and that's a good start.

Occasionally, there's a slight surprise--Buckley attempts Bukka White's Delta stomp on a slippery, slurred version of "Poor Boy Long Way from Home" -- but usually, You & I feels of piece with the rest of his early work.

Soft Airplane is a more focused outing; one that rarely travels outside the indie pop realm.

Though this album shows that Japanese Motors are on to something good, they'd be a lot better if they tried just a little harder.

On MPLSound, Prince takes his retro mission seriously enough to offer up a few songs nervy enough to be singles, even if the synthesized thrill of this handful of tunes is undercut by a bunch of slow-burning ballads that do their best to rival 'The Arms of Orion.'

Perfectly, almost aggressively pleasant.

McLachlan simply sounds like McLachlan here, seemingly unaged by the seven years that have elapsed since her last record and unconcerned with new trends.

Even though they don't quite have the fire that they used to, this more fully realized sound shouldn't have much trouble keeping their fans happy.

Oh, Fortune is still an indie folk album at heart, with Mangan's acoustic guitar and baritone voice giving every song its most basic foundation, but it's also the most ornate thing he's ever done.

Every song on Charleston has been ironed flat, so there are no unseemly natural inflections, something that Rucker doesn't need but which helps make Charleston, SC 1966 a gleaming example of polished, pressed, modern country-pop.

An album that continues very much in the melancholy vein of its predecessor while taking a generally looser approach to arrangements.

It may be an intentional shift, but the soulful resonance of 2012's The End of That has given way to an artful experimentalism that, while musically impressive, doesn't make as big an impact. Still, it's an ambitious near miss from a very good band that has proven it can be both cerebral and heartfelt.

While the snap into tightly focused and sometimes more fiery songwriting is remarkable, the songs aren't as across-the-board strong as they'd need to be to make the entire album as remarkable as the shift it represents.

If you're able to appreciate the pleasure and point they bring as a whole, 12 Memories will be an fine listen. If you're hoping they took the Coldplay route, you're in the wrong place.

While Nakamura is quite possibly one of the most accomplished beat processors in the realm of art hip-hop/electronica, his strict-composer approach on this project is occasionally inaccessible and at times unlistenable.