Consentino's certainly got an ear for a hook, and her trio makes good use of them, but you can only sing about your cat, weed, and loneliness for so many songs.

As tight and well-rehearsed as any camp band, the Kids' real magic lies in their unsullied embrace of 1960s pop and garage rock with a modern teen sensibility.

If Ghostland Observatory's serious about more than modern raves, the locals need to bring in an outside producer (Austin's Wolfgang Gartner?) to help construct something fresh. Otherwise, the party's just about over.

Summer's gone, but the buoyant vibe to The Sound of Sunshine extends year-round.

It's an unfortunate reminder that even on an album populated by seedy characters and hard roads, Bingham still struggles with the devil in the details.

Hearing Gershwin done in the style of Wilson's groundbreaking works is pleasant enough, but the middle-of-the-road veneer of this prestige project is the stuff of PBS pledge gifts.

Twista & Bluesman Ceddy St. Louis hybrid a blues toaster bringing out the best of BB, and fellow H-town boss Slim Thug cruises "Ridin' Slow." B boasting "I Git Down 4 Mine" rides nobody shotgun and again shoots straighter for it, same as "Snow Money" and "Let 'Em Know." Time for a solo joint.

Relaunching the Black Crowes brand with 2008 tomahawk Warpaint and the mature winter blues of follow-up Before the Frost/Until the Freeze here earns the Robinson boys a victory lap.

She's certainly eyeing global pop domination. Therein lies Maya's conflict.

Foals' major label debut, Total Life Forever, keeps those elements intact, most notably on the title track and in the calculated urgency and cold sweat of "After Glow," but the band has redesigned the template to include a more expansive pop approach evinced by sprawling centerpiece "Spanish Sahara."

LP4 is every bit as unimaginative as its title suggests, picking up quite literally where 2008's lackluster LP3 left off.

It's the Ting Tings amplified past 11, and the two never stray far from the formula.

Infinite Arms fumbles its Birks like a weary hippie.

Yet while White stalks bewitching frontwoman Alison Mosshart to sublime effect in "The Difference Between Us" and "Die by the Drop," the album still sounds rushed, as if the Dead Weather can't wait to storm the stage.

Dwyer's yelps paired with Brigid Dawson's sugary vox have made them a West Coast Frank Black/Kim Deal, and Warm Slime secretes the tightly wound psych-punk blues of Help, but lacks that album's urgency.

Unfortunately, BSS spreads itself too thin on the back nine, which, with the noted exception of Emily Haines' yearning "Sentimental X's," sounds like solo project B-sides (Kevin Drew's dream echo "Sweetest Kill" and closer "Me and My Hand") and studio outtakes (instrumental "Meet Me in the Basement," "Highway Slipper Jam").

The Vancouver octet layers lavish string arrangements and huge group choruses over its trademark, idiosyncratic power-pop, smothering the listener in the process.

Credit MGMT for refusing to rest on its major-label laurels, but directionless experimentation proves no substitute.

Marcos' life was all luxury and color, but the songs don't translate. Here Lies Love will play in gay clubs, but for a collaboration between forward-thinkers like Byrne and Cook, it's pretty safe while also having no direction.

The sold-separately CD soundtrack reiterates that point, capturing the pair's post-millennium blues, from the scat-rap, tornado groove of "Icky Thump" and electric mandolin haunt "Little Ghost" to the proto-punk, Maximum R&B of "Let's Shake Hands."

The Windows operating system segue of Mark E. Smith ("Glitter Freeze") into Lou Reed ("Some Kind of Nature") is as apropos as used syringes littering Plastic Beach, which defines the disc's wasteland second half after "On Melancholy Hill." "Rhinestone Cowboy," meet "Rhinestone Eyes."

Individually, both men are astounding talents, but beyond a few solid tracks, the alchemy's just not there.

Most of the dozen tracks fall comfortably near the middle ground between those two ends. The result is something palatably hip without being overly threatening.

Despite its meticulous craftsmanship and ornamentation, Tim Smith's stoic delivery throughout – detached and downtrodden – ultimately turns The Courage of Others into a sepia-toned slumber.

Full-length Vice debut and second LP Descending Shadows has some good songs ("Paranoia," "Zip My Lip"), but it's no big stretch from Dead Moon's formula.

The result's a bit half-baked, which is disappointing when you know Hebden's capable of far more spirited adventures in sound.

With Til the Casket Drops, the Virginia Beach brothers achieve crossover status (hello, Kanye West and Keri Hilson) but lose the fire that defined 2002's Lord Willin' and 2006's Hell Hath No Fury.

At 23 songs, the UK electro duo's fourth full-length has a lot of room for experimentation, but it comes off more like the soundtrack for a 1960s Hammer film.