while the first single, 'All You Did Was Save My Life,' provides some much-needed bite, "Burn Burn" is ultimately ballad-heavy and one-dimensional.

Overall, Sugar Ray sticks to what it does best: helping audiences realize that there's no better alternative to a California fun-in-the sun day at the beach.

Son Volt may be playing it too safe on American Central Dust, but the songs are still woven together with a feeling of comfort and familiarity.

Fish Outta Water may lack the demographic-tripping vibe that even a Jurassic 5 in turmoil could whip up, but it's a mostly winning debut that makes up in vocal prowess for what it lacks in hooks.

Aside from a few unique moments ("The Return," "Take Me Away"), there's not much new to report here.

'Social Development Dance' is an accurate representative of Back and Fourth as a whole--an introspective, guitar-driven effort that's worthy of praise, despite some minor missteps.

Nonsensical lyrics about butterflies and name-changing lovers on tracks like 'You Go On Ahead (Trumpet Trumpet II)' and 'Apollo And The Buffalo And Anna Anna Anna Oh!,' could serve as a distraction, but the songs are saved by beautifully frantic instrumentals.

Though a floundering economy, bombed-out GOP and a season or two of corporate bailouts have provided them with a fat barrel of fish to shoot, this rap-rock hybrid simmers instead of seethes, never quite mustering the blood-boiling rage of its principals' previous material.

While it's commendable for the trio to try to break out of its teen dream box, it's on songs like 'Before the Storm'--featuring Miley Cyrus--where the brothers prove they're still among the best at putting the fizz in pop culture.

Now in his 30s, he doesn't surf the beat so much as box with it, with both brutality and no small degree of grace. That a rapper of this much verbal gymnastic ability is still making Perez Hilton cracks is too bad, but the bigger problem is that Eminem's recipe of gore and gay jokes sounds like the past.

Outer South is a decently stocked serving of rambling, saloon-joint alt-country, but one that finds the freewheeling Oberst and band in need of a little focus.

On 'High Price,' where she takes her vocals to an opera-like pitch, and her collaboration with the-Dream, 'Lover's Things,' whose faint tenor would seem like an ideal match, Ciara seems to go almost unnoticed. Thankfully, 'Work,' featuring Missy Elliott, has Ciara showing fly-girl antics over a house-like, clap-laden production, and the breakup song 'Never Ever,' featuring Young Jeezy, which samples 'If You Don't Know Me by Now,' pick up the slack.

There are clunkers, like the half-there torch song "Life Is Hard." But the great thing about 67-year-old Dylan is that even when it's not working, it's working.

It's about average for albums from Prince proteges.

Sometimes it's good bizarre. Other times it's bad bizarre.

Thursday's Epitaph debut melds the band's hardcore influences with shoegaze and atmospheric elements, with mixed results.

The Americana is first-class, be it on crunchy, boozy romps with stinging solos or the slow-burning acoustic fare, but this batch of tunes proves far less memorable.

That overstuffed guest list doesn't necessarily work to the exclusive benefit of The Spirit of Apollo, as sometimes the clutter makes it hard to hear precisely what kind of music Zegon and Spiegel are trying to make here.

When the World Comes Down doesn't evince much growth, proffering more of the same hooky pop/rock centered around adolescent love and heartache.

As was the case with John Legend, who beamed into the club on his latest, the initial effect is jarring, even in its star's capable hands. But it also settles in nicely.

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

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

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

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.

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

The extremes offer up a portrait of a man far more complex than what we get from many of Banner's peers, and the inventive beats (by Banner, Cool & Dre, Akon and others) add vital life to his gruff flow. But you have to wonder if some of these tracks simply reflect the rapper's desire to be all things to all consumers.

The rest of Identified, though, panders to the preteen demo with stop-start pop that ranges from pleasant (the title track) to dull ("Amazed") to off-putting ("Hook It Up"). But for little girls, this is one nonstop singalong.