None of these tracks can match the best cuts on the act's first two albums for sheer catchiness.

Brooks doesn't do half measures, as evident on the title track, screeching guitar-rock in which he rails against technology by referencing folklore hero John Henry, who died in a steam drill competition against a machine. But it's the dramatic tunes about love gone bad that stand out.

About half of them work, though which half might depend on your love or tolerance for the players involved.

The album builds on the pair's impressive collaborative EP with Robyn, Do It Again, reinforcing that project's themes of legacy, repetition and dedication.

["Louder Than Words" is] a riveting and beautiful piece of music, yes, but not quite a definitive statement. The same might be said of The Endless River as a whole.

The diversity and focus has paid off, as Cadillactica is K.R.I.T.'s best and most cohesive work to date.

The missteps are few, but grave: on "Gimme a Chance," she transitions from bouncy rap to full-blown salsa, complete with Spanish singing, while the retro surf-pop of the Ariel Pink-produced "Nude Beach a Go-Go" confounds. And yet, both merely amplify how creatively combative Banks can be--especially when she focuses that energy into her music.

The album's most arresting moments are stuck in the shadows, mere teasers for an artist the listener knows exists, but is intentionally sidelined.

Young's scratchy vocal fails to complement its exquisitely cinematic orchestration until the final two lines show a fleshed-out poignancy. It's the same, too, with his blues performances.... At times, though, Young and his many collaborators do gel.

It's a more consistent album than its predecessor. And perhaps more importantly, it shores up the duo's country flanks, and demonstrates that FGL intends to aggressively protect its progressive place in the genre, one that the act essentially designed on its own.

Pain Killer is an in-your-face album with rock bombast, though there's enough occasional twang here to keep the country traditionalists happy.

Coyne doesn't actually sing on the majority of these covers, but regardless, the album is decidedly refracted through a Flaming Lips light.

With 1989, she expertly sets up the next chapter of what is now even more likely to be a very long career.

The uptempo songs are entertaining, but it's the ballad performances that set this disc apart.

One that makes us hope the Queen takes a stab at even bolder covers in the future.

While it does have a couple of moments, much of the album sounds like he is just, filling out paperwork.

Clearly, Lambert has talent, but on Heart she's merely scratching the surface.

Jason Aldean's Old Boots, New Dirt, the singer's sixth studio album is a mixture of the party songs he has become known for--but also shows a little bit more of an emotional and sensual side than listeners might be accustomed to.

The result is a lustful listen that often centers on either coming together or breaking apart.

The music is more subdued than My Chemical Romance's, but Way's still not as understated as the influencers he's channeling. His storied themes of love and pain pop up throughout Hesitant Alien like embarrassing Facebook statuses. It's a largely smooth transition out of the dark and into the bright world of pop.

Lady A has always demonstrated the potential to deliver a little something more. On 747, we finally get a glimpse of it.

The formidable 3rdEye ladies want badly to be a raw, stripped-down rock band, but despite their chops and the analog production, the performances are slightly anodyne, scrubbed of menace.

Art Official Age isn't just the stronger of the two--it's among his most imaginative albums since the '90s.

A handful of tracks strewn with cheesy metaphors shows the impersonality that mars Cuomo's post-Pinkerton songwriting, despite some redeeming musical qualities that reaffirm Weezer as a purveyor of feedback and fuzz (particularly "Cleopatra," a great rock single if you ignore the lyrics).

Lady Gaga promised her fans (perhaps a tad prematurely) that her new album would be the greatest of the decade. But even if the next nine years bring something better, we're unlikely to hear anything bigger than Born This Way.

The Texas native reclaims her spot as one of country's most expressive and distinctive vocalists.

Hudson links with a long tradition of powerful female vocalists making highly danceable music. And the spare templates she uses here, which are heavy on rhythm and relatively empty otherwise, give her plenty of space to flex her powerful voice.

On Cheek to Cheek, Gaga justifies his [Tony Bennett's] faith--sometimes a bit too forcibly. Whereas Bennett is a master of restraint--a guy whose best performances play like melodic chat sessions--Gaga thrives on spectacle.