Endearing sour trumpet and recorder notes on uptempo tracks like 'Judy and Her Dream of Horses' and a stunning 1998 version of 'Slow Graffiti' capture the essence of early Belle & Sebastian, while the four unreleased songs from 2001 find the group experimenting with funky, spoke-sung vocals ('Shoot the Sexual Athlete') and haunting atmospherics ('Nothing in Silence').

Much like his predecessors' quick-turnaround debuts, Cook's is fairly generic, but its rock edge is dirtied up with crunching guitars and the artist's tuneful growl.

His relationship [with Miranda Lambert] gives Startin' Fires its verve and spirit, a love-struck recovery from the heartbroken pall that hung over 2007's "Pure BS."

Some of the fierce headbanging that is Mudvayne's stock in trade can still be found in 'The Hate in Me,' 'We the People' and 'Dull Boy,' but the bulk of the record finds the group playing its New Game with hard-hitting exuberance.

Kuti studied piano and revisited the trumpet, his original instrument, resulting in a more textured and jazz-influenced approach this time out.

A silky tenor with a natural melancholy that makes him a heartbreaker by default. His charming debut exploits that very quality with some strokes of pop genius.

Though they're written by a teenager, Swift's songs have broad appeal, and therein lies the genius and accessibility of her second effort.

A new high point for the already accomplished Walker.

Seal's David Foster-produced tribute to classic soul is a figure skater of a collection, all elegance and grace. But some of these songs require the more aggressive approach of a hockey player.

Twenty years after her self-titled debut, Tracy Chapman remains true to her musical calling: soul-rich folk melodies around a voice of honesty and nuance that nails ambivalence like no other.

Not surprisingly, its 11 songs bristle with an urgency that more closely resembles (but rocks harder than) Travis' 1997 debut "Good Feeling" than 2007's sumptuously crafted "The Boy With No Name," with a decidedly uptempo countenance and plenty of room for lead guitarist Andy Dunlop's riffs, solos and fills.

Brad Paisley's mostly instrumental new set, which chronicles his self-described "love affair with the guitar," is both outstanding and diverse.

Nothing on the album is as catchy or as memorable as the Strokes' sharpest material, but several cuts sport a sweet Latin lilt, which helps distinguish the music from work by any number of similarly situated acts.

Deliciously decadent, Take It to the Limit has even more melodic power than its predecessor, delivering tons of guilty pleasures that sound fresh and familiar and strangely exciting.

Intimacy is the English dance-punk outfit's most urgent-sounding effort yet, and frontman Kele Okereke and his bandmates probably couldn't bear the thought of waiting two or three months for it to be heard.

It's a shame that the end result, the first under the Queen name in 13 years, is not very memorable.

The lush arrangements on 4:13 Dream don't build a Wall of Sound so much as a whitewater, where heavily distorted guitar and effects share momentum with fluid melodies and memorable pop hooks.

Snow Patrol handily manages the challenge of following up breakthrough album "Eyes Open" on A Hundred Million Suns.

On her confident fifth album, the multiplatinum hitmaker attacks her recent divorce in all styles.

Another winner full of eerie beauty and restraint.

Legend's voice remains beyond reproach, but for a guy who's an oasis of style and soul in a sea of synthetic, robo-call R&B, at times it seems like he's playing catch-up.

Musically, the band works up a handsome country rock sound with shades of the Rolling Stones and Wilco throughout, making room for swagger ('Fix It,' 'Magick') and sentimentality ('Natural Ghost,' 'Evergreen') in equal measure.

The full-length The Fame proves she's more than one hit and a bag of stage tricks.

His new album is not exactly like the last or the one before that, and is pleasantly surprising in its evolution.

Barnes isn't so much indulgent as he is overly ambitious and seemingly out of his mind, making Skeletal Lamping as wonderfully brilliant as it is weird.

The Sea & Cake has dabbled in electronic grooves and Brazilian lilt throughout its seven sleek albums, but the band has never quite let it rip like it does on Car Alarm.

Much has been made of the fact that Gang Gang Dance named this record after the patron saint of outcasts and rebels, but this effort shows more crossover potential than anything the act has ever done.

Call Me Crazy, the follow-up to her highly lauded "There's More Where That Came From," is Womack's best album yet.

Hank Williams III has always respected his lineage, but he gives it even more love at the outset of his poignant and pugnacious sixth album.

Dennen's tenuous vocals (and lyrics) are better suited to silly love songs than this sort of material, and though producer John Alagia knows how to make the guitars jingle and jangle and how to work up a soft, swimmy groove, Dennen needs a little more to rise out of the ever-growing multitude of sensitive guitar dudes.

The miracle of Aterciopelados is that it backs up its message songs with beautiful, infectious music. The Colombian duo's latest, Rio, is no exception

The seemingly ageless Australian rock combo mostly employs its same tried-and-true formula on the audio side of the Black Ice equation.

Perfect Symmetry bursts out of the gate with a suite of giddy, '80s-inflected Brit pop songs that, surprisingly, suit the band well.

Williams and Elvis Costello get their twang on for the spirited 'Jailhouse Tears,' and a combination of new elements (horns) and powerhouse playing by her touring band Buick 6 bolster the set's emotional heft.

While there's not a bad one in the bunch, once you've heard LaMontagne loosen up, you're left starving for more of it.

With this album, Costa comes defiantly into her own.

A nice teaser to satiate fans between proper full-lengths.

Kenny Chesney does heroes George Strait and Jimmy Buffett proud on his latest set, which has a free-and-easy feel befitting its island inspiration.

The recording is immaculate, the performance breathtaking.

Dig Out Your Soul, however, is the sound of a band rediscovering its snarl.

While the upbeat Lambchop records of the past are missed, OH (ohio) is a well-paced and engaging trip through Wagner's lush, scenic tunes.

The blues- and country-influenced songs on Break Up the Concrete are an engaging departure from the group's earlier hits, while Hynde's dynamic alto voice gives the set the unmistakable Pretenders identity.

There's nothing here you haven't heard before from Rise Against--or, indeed, from Bad Religion before that. But producers Bill Stevenson (of the Descendents and All) and Jason Livermore keep the music moving at a breakneck pace that gives everything the gleam of urgency anyway.

This North Carolina-based sextet's major-label debut is as rich and diverse as 2006's "Be He Me," unfolding with layers of piano and string flourishes, crunching guitar jams and vibrant pop melodies.

The material from '97 on offers many surprises, particularly a dreamy alternate take on "Someday Baby" from "Modern Times" and the strident "Dreaming of You," which wouldn't have fit at all on "Time Out of Mind. Less essential are the live cuts, which only reinforce how Dylan's unpredictable phrasing and enunciation can render a song transcendent one moment ("Lonesome Day Blues," which sounds sourced from a bootleg), then unrecognizable ("Things Have Changed") or ordinary the next ("Cocaine Blues").

Moonwink is a very good album by most standards, except by comparison to "Nicely Done."

Unexpected does boast a handful of shiny electro-R&B gems ("Hello Heartbreak," "We Break the Dawn") that make Williams' journey from church to club as enjoyable as it was inevitable.

Throughout the 19 tracks, the group comes across as confident and capable of charming in varying motifs across the rock spectrum.

On the first part (Elephants), she sticks to brooding breakup ballads with long, languid piano chords and lush string arrangements, the perfect soundtrack for the lovesick....The mood changes radically on the second part, when Yamagata emerges with gritty, garage-rock tunes a la PJ Harvey, delivering defiant hooks with the energy of someone taking revenge.

Live at Shea rather remarkably captures the band conquering the soon-to-be-demolished stadium, turning the cold, sprawling space into a sweaty Brixton club.

It's an intriguing, somewhat surprising collection of tunes. Oftentimes dub projects can be anchored in a recurrent groove, but Page has created a group of tracks that are quite distinctive.

Although he seems to have rediscovered his panache, the music supporting his narratives is still lacking the originality of his best work.

Hudson is so comfortable with singing--whatever the song might be--that she elevates the material, making it sound like nothing you've ever heard before. All hail the new diva.

The new set isn't without a whiff of schmaltz....Thicke's strong singing--and a few winning uptempo numbers, including the infectious 'Magic' and the R. Kelly-ish 'Sidestep'--right the ship.

He's embodied literature's most popular archetype--the survivor--by transforming his woes into a reflective, enjoyable album.

The 37-year-old singer/songwriter is a new mom in love with her daughter's dad, and the experience has saturated every element of her work, from the warmed-up sound of her voice and guitar, to the lessons learned at the end of her familiar narratives.

Teamed with new producer Chris Lindsey and with more time to create than she did in the rush following her run on "American Idol," Kellie Pickler's second album is another solid step toward country stardom.

It's a pleasingly indulgent collection of songs, stories and detours that will be something of a treasure for longtime fans and packs at least a dozen treats for relative newbies.

There are a few head-scratchers,....but singer Caleb Followill has never been in better command of his beyond-his-years howl, and he's got monster hooks and melodies yet in his bottle of tricks.

It's all well and good, but we've mostly heard it before.

The Dolls' bark is as big as their bite.

Furr is a more consistent body of work, a perfect fall soundtrack rife with woodsy imagery.

While the set could be more dynamic with greater variation in tempo, the producers blend their vast range of influences in innovative ways.

[He said] wanted to take a different direction on Year of the Gentleman. However, it seems he still has a heavy--yet welcome--case of the (rhythm and) blues on the finished product.

Mac minions will find this electric-flavored, band-sounding album pleasing, but there's also the avant ambience that's Buckingham's stock in trade.

If there were any doubts about how Darius Rucker would fare in the country world, the Hootie & the Blowfish frontman puts them solidly to rest on his genre debut.

On his third solo outing (and first for Columbia), songwriter/producer Raphael Saadiq takes the listener on a smooth carpet ride that seamlessly weaves the feel-good essence of soul music's storied roots.

Skeptics might wonder if the sprawling guest list is an admission of fading commercial prowess. So, it's to the MC's credit that Brass Knuckles still feels like a party.

Jem's Dido-like vocals are consistently a soothing treat, but on the whole there's a sultriness and spark missing from the material.

Virtuosity can be impressive without being particularly enjoyable, and it's hard to shake the feeling that for all the potent-as-ever prowess here, Death Magnetic is more a stamp of authenticity than a complete record.

Knowle West Boy shows that regardless of era, Tricky does his thing and does it well.

Special guest vocalists, plus a turn at bat from longtime member Jacob Valenzuela on 'Inspiracion,' add intriguing textures to the 15-song set.

The Stand-Ins feels looser and breathier than "Stage Names."

If it all seems messy, it isn't. GCH sounds like an American utopia, where everyone coexists joyfully and thrives on the diversity.

Despite detractors, Simpson remains a gifted vocalist who delivers on most every cut.

Alphabutt is a children's album, 15 songs in 27 minutes that have a breezy, unconditional innocence and more than a little silliness.

In lesser hands this collection of country classics might have been badly mishandled, but in the willing arms of traditionalist extraordinaire Patty Loveless and producer/husband Emory Gordy Jr., the past is brought to new life.

After taking care of some unfinished business in recent years, Brian Wilson shows he still has the stuff of conceptual brilliance on his eighth solo album.

Most of The Block is a reasonable enough approximation of faceless club pop, complete with standard-issue guest stars (the Pussycat Dolls, Timbaland) and out-of-left-field rap bridges.

Young Jeezy balances commercial/ pop aspirations with core hip-hop sounds on The Recession, getting a lift from DJ Toomp, Drumma Boy, Midnight Black and longtime collaborator Shawty Redd on this sonically enjoyable follow-up to 2006's "The Inspiration."

Apollo Sunshine's third album is a delightful head-scratcher that explores old and new elements of psychedelia alike, from string sections, melting organs and echoey vocals to gritty, traveling guitar lines and lyrics about love and reincarnation.

Underoath has made definitive strides at progression without abandoning the muscular, broad-shouldered hardcore that made it a household name.

It gives fans something meaningful they didn't have before (in addition to token brand-new track "Keep My Composure").

Flexing a bit of the angry lyrical edge he boasted on 2005's "Awfully Deep," Roots digs into "fickle DJs," no-talent rappers, Trustafarians and "bourgeois hippies" who "wanna fight my flow," as he proclaims on the track '2 Much 2 Soon.'

Forth not only equals the Verve's best work, but in many cases exceeds it.

The Game goes surprisingly mellow in comparison to his first two efforts.

On her sophomore set, Solange not only takes on a sound that differs from her pop-driven 2002 debut, but demonstrates that unlike her sister Beyoncé--who she vehemently refutes comparisons to on 'God Given Name'--she has no reservations about sharing personal experiences.

The set is at once Slipknot's most ambitious and accessible outing to date, with a broad palette of sounds and textures that shift faster than Michael Phelps off the starting block.

Those in the know can attest DF is merely coming into its own after years on the touring circuit.

With a tiny voice, minimalist arrangements and simple lyrics, this Swedish songwriter has crafted what seems like a magical album, where all its small elements coalesce into something quite big.

While some tunes, like the Columbo-background-music-ready title track, suffer for their weightlessness ('Metronomic Underground,' we miss you), the Motown-meets-Esquivel 'Self Portrait With Electric Brain' and beat-oriented electro of 'Valley Hi!' and 'Pop Molecule' read as exquisitely wrought.

It's muted, but intoxicating stuff.

The set is somewhat of a shambolic affair, wherein kernels of good ideas get blown out, jumbled up or lost in execution.

There are more examples of cover albums gone wrong than gone right. Thankfully Glen Campbell's new set, which finds him ably putting his own twist on tunes from Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers, Foo Fighters, U2, Green Day and John Lennon, among others, fits into the latter category.

The title of Staind's sixth album is a bit of a misnomer, but there are a few new stylistic directions here.

Hatfield does her moody, catchy indie-pop to near-perfection after so much practice (nine solo albums during the past 16 years), and entertaining examples abound here.

You could count the number of hooks on one hand and most tracks clock in at the three-minute mark, ostensibly to let GZA inhale occasionally. But it's worth a listen to hear what sneaky, suspicious, image-heavy tricks still emerge from his notebook.

Occasional clunkers aside, the impassioned delivery and stripped-down G-funk grooves are still more potent than plenty of efforts by rappers half Cube's age.