The rage gives American Capitalist a fierce potency.

The set has a fullness and energy-not to mention an arsenal of layered guitars-that give it the kind of muscle we haven't heard from the band in quite some time.

The saying goes: If it isn't broken, don't fix it. That seems to be the strategy Jay Sean and his team employed.

The 11-song set draws from some of the Big Apple's more established rock outfits, but still keeps the DIY feel of the Whigs' previous albums.

Bennington and his Dead by Sunrise bandmates (who hail from the electronic rock band Julien-K) also display a deft touch with atmospherics and textures on tracks like "Too Late," "Give Me Your Name" and the goth-tinged "Let Down," among others

"Born Villain" finds a seemingly refreshed and clear-minded Manson and his band poring through a diverse set of moods and styles in songs that cut a little deeper than the deliberate provocation of many of his previous works.

Produced by Matt Serletic, the album is a sonic delight, refreshingly different from what often dominates country radio airwaves. But the 13-song collection is still accessible enough to whet programmers' appetites.

Jollett and company do it one more time, most definitely with feeling.

Where “Sleep” excels as a quality addition to his catalog’s stellar collection of panty-dropping and baby-making songs (see: “Take You Down,” “No BS”), others fall and lean towards prosaic.

Ingram may be good on his own, but Patty Griffin's sweet harmonies on the enchanting 'Seeing Stars' and Dierks Bentley's growls on Ingram's live classic 'Barbie Doll' are welcome additions.

Overall, the God MC can still carry the throne as one of the greatest rappers of all time, but he'll need stronger production the next time around.

The music on Yeah Ghost is still Zero 7-but after a few cans of musical Red Bull.

St. Lucia's splendid synth-pop allure has instant pop catchiness, but Grobler's willingness to wear his lyrics' romantic motivations like a badge of honor gives Matter a thrilling extra jolt.

Midnight Memories, the third full-length from the "X Factor"-formed quintet, follows up on what worked best on last year's "Take Me Home," and tosses in some proficient new ideas to keep listeners eager for the band's continued evolution.

It's hard not to see Editors' third album, In This Light and on This Evening, as its New Ordering-a marked shift away from guitars to synthesizers and a cleaner, dance-friendly vibe that still maintains much of the emotional heft. But the transition can seem a bit self-conscious.

As haunting as Lewis' ballads are, perhaps fewer of them would do her some good.

I Love You is guiltless fun, just like any proper quickie.

Aside from an understandable naivete, Trainor's weaknesses are her stylistic cherry-picking and her compulsion to appear adorably relatable and socially correct all at once.

American Tragedy is a tight mash-up between contemporary sonics and old-school aesthetic.

Flamingo finds Brandon Flowers exploring big topics (love, religion, the complicated charm of his Las Vegas hometown) over even bigger arrangements.

The album finds the 36-year old singer trying to take advantage of his newfound spotlight by striving to become the full-fledged pop star he's never quite been.

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

Lyrics like "You don’t have to be big and tall/To stand up and hold your own" (from "Miracles") play like inspirational memes. Still, their hearts are in such the right place that it's hard to totally root against them.

For 2012's The Connection, the steroid-heavy production was somewhat tempered so emotional catharsis could propel the album, and the same holds true for new collection F.E.A.R. (Face Everything and Rise).

["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.

McPhee sounds much more comfortable amid Alagia's rootsy singer/songwriter settings than she did surrounded by the shiny R&B beats of her self-titled debut,

It's a promising teen's first album, and it will satisfy the ­longings of the keepers of fan Tumblrs. So far, though, Mendes' music is not nearly as inventive as his strategies to publicize it.

With Supermodel, his goal is not to make you like him, but rather to give you a sense of what it's like to be him. He pulls it off, and he throws in plenty of hooks along the way.

He sounds as unflappable as the subject of his first hit.

Word to Greyson: Hold on to 13 as long as you can.

Consider it easing into the topic at hand, which turns out to be the songstress' most intimate and soul-baring set to date.

The band's sixth studio album, Alter the Ending, is a perfectly blended concoction of acoustic melodies, graceful harmonies and powerful anthems wrapped around the story of a man trying desperately to save a failing relationship.

While not every track is a slam-dunk, Gray definitely recaptures her earlier promise.

Produced for the most part by U2 collaborator Flood, the new album rarely operates at anything less than a frenzied fever pitch, with thundering percussion grooves, Leto's top-of-the-lungs yowl and wave after wave of Edge-style guitar theatrics.

Korn III (a reference to this lineup as the third incarnation of the band) moves forward more than it retrenches, referencing some stylistic trademarks while introducing some fresh dynamic sensibilities.

Breakthrough never quite lives up to its title. But the songs that do diverge from the formula even slightly-like the Greg Wells-produced "Fearless"-offer delightful relief, and perhaps a taste of what could be if the singer were to dig deeper.

Drawing from a skillful fusion of R&B/hip-hop/pop, Usher addresses the trappings of fame on the uptempo "Monstar," shifts into sexy overdrive on "Lil Freak" (featuring Nicki Minaj) and "Pro Lover," pumps up the beat on the infectious club anthem "OMG" (featuring Will.i.am) and turns introspective on the ballad "Foolin' Around."

Nobody's Daughter recalls the highlights of the band's critically acclaimed 1994 album, "Live Through This," and shows that, as a band, Hole is not one bit damaged.

18 Months has a certain set of goals in its sights, and Harris (alongside an all-star roster of vocalists and co-producers) resoundingly achieves these goals.

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

Heart may be a measured apology, but Green still has a defiant streak.

Kurupt's distinct slurred-barking cadence lends itself well to the anthems on "Streetlights," an impressive albeit uneven release.

Humanoid is no less appealingly shiny than its 2007 stateside debut, "Scream." But with the exception of the song 'Automatic,' an instantly catchy chunk of bubble-grunge perfection, it does have fewer killer melodies, which allows more of your brain to focus on Kaulitz's lyrics.

On Khalifa, he's characteristically mellow and melodic, mixing rhymes that are part equal parts braggadocio and motivational slogans in an almost singular pursuit of highs and riches. By design, none of the songs stand out, save for the Travis Scott featuring "Bake Sale," which wins mostly by sounding like an aired-out version of Scott's own hit "Antidote."

Three albums in, Boyle sounds like she's finally arriving.

Delightfully restrained production gives plenty of breathing room for a full, resonant rhythm section, where similar dance rock might give more bandwidth to a hotter, shriller high end.

Although a love for hydro is Cypress Hill's claim to fame, it's the more substantial tracks on "Rise Up" that smoke the competition.

Slash shoots a little too wide for its own good, but the album showcases him as the guitar hero we've always known and as the songwriter we probably haven't appreciated enough.

The Used pushes boundaries with the frenetic lead single 'Blood on My Hands,' whose video features McCracken as a gleeful, blood-soaked vigilante. But the song doesn't so much reinvent the band's sound as amplify it. Other tracks like 'Sold My Soul' and 'The Best of Me' highlight the Used's knack for crafting brutal yet crowd-pleasing anthems.

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

It's the balance between delicate guitar, lush cello and the singer's rich vocals on "Brooklyn Fawn" that proves Matt Pond PA is ready to stretch out, not compromise.

Lotus largely benefits from all the bombast--Aguilera hasn't sounded so fun and energized in years.

Because she's bold enough to do it her way, Aguilera maintains her reign.

The nine-song album's softer ballads--like the piano-driven "What If"--distract from Derulo's powerhouse vocals. His talent is somewhat misused on the tune, blanketed beneath equal parts Auto-Tune and lyrical vagueness. However, the inclusion of club bangers like "The Sky's the Limit" and "Love Hangover" boost the set's energy.

Simply put, Weezer needs to exorcise the metal demons and find a balance that works.

Levine's hummingbird vocals and passionate delivery are as earnest as they were on their 2002 debut Songs About Jane.

Ink has clearly studied his success, and it feels strategic that Full Speed is sardine-packed with star collaborators.

The problem is that the hints of personality underneath the braggadocio overflowing on "Based on a T.R.U. Story" exist as faint flickers, pointing to a storytelling skill that has yet to be given the spotlight.

After uniting with Kings of Leon/Modest Mouse vet Jacquire King, the band has emerged with a set that's more inviting than its first but just as catchy.

The album is a good-faith effort to match or even outstrip the band's onstage eclecticism, and the musical personality shifts help relieve the group's tendency to blandness, providing cover for Brown's dutifully generic, if personable voice.

Deja-Vu is at its best when it sounds like a victory lap, not a labored attempt to keep up.

The Remix's 10 songs won't replace Gaga's chart-topping hits, but the tracks offer enough interesting angles to attract Gaga diehards as well as casual dance music fans.

Who I Am is so polished and adult-sounding -trading teen pop moxie for organ and slide guitar-that one is left wondering whether the same songs about love, heartbreak and political curiosity wouldn't be a more satisfying evolutionary step in the hands of a scrappier troupe.

Animal teems with choruses that stick with the listener for days, from the blissful "Your Love Is My Drug" to the catty "Backstabber." Equally prevalent, however, are heavily processed vocals, which make it hard to tell whether the California cutie can actually sing.

Here, the artist seems to finally feel comfortable in her own skin. It's a wide-ranging album-she's in love, out of love, light-hearted and playful.

Not only does Wilder Mind reintroduce the band members as rock gods worthy of the title, it does so ­without changing what fans cherished most about them in the first place: their songwriting, their sentiment, their gusto.

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.

What results is a new-ish, but not necessarily improved, Nickelback.

Hood Billionaire lands in a dull gray area between feel-good retro rap (its first two singles are the Memphis homage "Elvis Presley Blvd" and the pleasant but forgettable jazz jangle of "Keep Doin' That [Rich Bitch]") and Rozay greatest-hits karaoke that tries and fails to recapture the impact of his bulletproof Teflon Don bombast.

The subtler, less stylized Wiped Out! keeps the palm-trees-at-twilight feel, but the sound is more hazy R&B than rock.

He may still sport the same look, but stylistically his new music proves that he's not a one-trick pony.

Reincarnated stands as an enjoyable pop record laced with an assortment of roots and dancehall reggae references.

It sounds like a collection of random one-offs rather than an album. Foxx's voice, falsetto and all, still sounds lovely, but he seems unsure exactly how he should use it.

Gold Cobra reminds us of how much fun a tight, no-holds-barred rap-metal record can be in the right hands.

A set of tightly crafted, richly arranged pop songs.

The band fares better in a handful of frothier cuts.

This Stockholm-based DJ outfit scored a dance hit earlier this year with "One (Your Name)," its hard-hitting collaboration with Pharrell Williams of N*E*R*D. But separately, the men of Swedish House Mafia-Axwell, Sebastian Ingrosso and Steve Angello-have been rocking dancefloors for years, so here we have a 24-track primer designed to update new fans on each artist's earlier work.

The New Jersey group gets back to the business of rocking on its 11th studio album, The Circle.

The rapper proves he still knows what it takes to make a solid, well-rounded album.

The easier-but not exactly wiser-route for Brown would've been to take jabs at those who turned their backs on him, but his tactic here seems to give listeners a solid album.

For all the pomp and watermelon costumes, Perry is primarily a smart and personal pop songwriter. And Teenage Dream shows-in carefully selected spots-that she's ready to grow up.

You either love or hate Pitbull's music, and sometimes a little of both when listening to the same album.

The recipe might be different, but the ingredients are largely the same.

Shaka Rock may not expand Jet's range, but its high-energy guitar assaults should impress modern rock audiences.

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

A decade and five albums into its career, the rock band certainly sounds as youthful as ever.

Britney Jean, her first album released in her thirties, is a subtle shift away from frantic bangers and into more forthright songwriting.

Shock Value II packs plenty of heat from the layered beats, but never lets Timbaland shine as the artist he wants to become.

The fresh material isn't likely to expand your idea of who Bret Michaels is.

The dozen tracks of effervescent, shimmering, faith-based synth pop blend Young's adenoidal, Warped tour-ready vocals with a decidedly '80s new wave flavor.

After the devil-may-care disco of "Blurred Lines," Thicke's career peak, Paula's introspection seems half-baked. It is Thicke's personal love letter for Patton--and comes off as relevant mostly just to the two of them.

Throughout Can't Be Tamed Cyrus seems checked out of her vocal performances, singing with neither the tween-queen enthusiasm of her Hannah Montana material nor the confrontational energy of 2008's Breakout.

The tunes are competently rendered, but that actually makes them worse: That these guys are selling out shows as what amounts to a cover band is the kind of thing you need to be super-baked to wrap your head around.

Following the release of its much buzzed-about 2008 breakout album, electro-rap duo 3OH!3 returns with more fast-paced, catchy digital-pop beats on its latest set, Streets of Gold.

It's a worthwhile reinvention, but a little more noise wouldn't have hurt, either.

Lyrically, Louder is rather one-sided, as she often sings about the perils of relationships, over and over, in ways that we've all heard many times at this point. Still, it's a solid effort that shows she has promise as a bona fide pop artist.

While the title of the Peas' newest album, "The Beginning," might suggest a retreat from this everything-to-everyone agenda, it's everything but.

The duo and an assortment of guests-including Will.i.am, Busta Rhymes, GoonRock and Calvin Harris-extol the virtues of late nights, trendy tequilas, hard bodies and vibey DJs.