Picture Show should end up as one the year's most tuneful rock releases.

Those who have witnessed the group's floor-shaking live shows might be a bit disarmed by the deliberately dense and lo-fi production of "Boys & Girls."

We come to "A Wasteland Companion" with certain expectations. Happily, Ward meets them.

Blunderbuss isn't just (arguably) the best album of the year so far, it opens up a whole new world for him.

This is guilt-free bass bliss for a post-genre age.

Producer Greg Wells (Katy Perry, OneRepublic, Adele) dresses all that [emotional complexity and angst] up with greater sonic sophistication, guiding the All-American Rejects toward a more bombastic brand of pop.

An album that could've easily come from other Mississippi River stops where horns and funk pump through the bloodstreams-Chicago, Memphis or St. Louis.

It's indeed better the second time around, no matter who's running her down.

While Jourgensen seems re-engaged with his music, he's also more disinterested than ever in the wider pop culture.

Rich organ swells and muscular horn charts mark many of the 10 tracks, with a live, off-the-floor groove that levitates.

More than anything, Wrecking Ball is a record with heart.

As comeback albums go, though, this one feels unusually natural.

How About I Be Me (And You Be You)?, is a slap-upside-the-head reminder, a collection of heartfelt confessionals, evocative insights and provocative position statements.

Many of the dozen songs achieve the kind of meatiness that the group approached tentatively on The Fray.

An old-fashioned countrypolitan album-and a really good one at that.

A playful effort that comes from an ease with pop hooks and power-pop chords, a knowledge of how to employ a steady beat.

The sparse production recalls Cohen's 1988 release, "I'm Your Man," by throwing the Canadian balladeer's ever-deepening voice and his mix of poetic flair and pitch-black humor into satisfyingly stark relief.

They never supersede the originals, but hardly suffer in comparison.

Frontman Randy Blythe still growls his guts out while his bandmates hammer away at economy-sized grooves that suggest an extreme-sports version of Southern rock.

The band fares better in a handful of frothier cuts.

You can hear the result of all those showbiz connections in the radio-ready economy of high-sheen hook bombs.

The rage gives American Capitalist a fierce potency.

Based on David Lynch's reputation, one can expect his first album to be either weird or cinematic. He delivers on both counts on Crazy Clown Time.

It all sounds sturdy and fits comfortably down the middle, more dependable than daring.

It's a well-crafted brand of meat 'n potatoes hard rock.

Cee Lo Green's pre-"Fuck You" presence on the soundtrack to "The Twilight Saga: Eclipse" last year seemed to signal an expansion of the series' indie-dominated musical brand. That opening-up continues here with tunes by hipster-rap MC Theophilus London and Green's pal Bruno Mars.

Overall, another solid effort from one of country's finest.

Ambition nods to Ross' cartoon grandiosity in "Miami Nights," where Wale details his collection of luxury goods over a jubilant horn riff. Characteristically, though, the album heads in plenty of other directions as well.