For a taste of the power of positivity, look no further than Martina McBride's splendid new album, Shine.

The compositions are magnificent, and the performance sparkles....Marsalis has interspersed the songs with snippets of poetry, which he wrote and recites. I'm not qualified to critique poetry, but I can tell you this: You're not going to want to hear this stuff every time you play the disc.

Thankfully, though, the singer-songwriter imbues his work with real soul, and classic country fans could do worse than to worship at the altar of this Church.

With the help of an expert new backing band, Oldham wrings a polished grace out of this material, from ballads ('I Don't Belong to Anyone') to smoldering anthems ('Afraid Ain't Me').

The resulting dynamic is two distinct flowers from the sound garden that produce an only occasionally sweet-smelling bouquet.

No matter the stage of the romance, it's always DEFCON 1 in Clarkson-ville. And on All I Ever Wanted, out Tuesday, that melodrama translates into a delightfully incongruous good time.

Bare Bones is a beautifully slow-cooked album that encourages us to look on the bright side. Not a bad message these days.

Unlike his spotty debut, this is a seamless, brilliantly produced affair featuring his unmatched contemporary pop technique and songwriting craftsmanship.

Middle Cyclone is by far Case's most quixotic album, and that's saying a lot considering the abstract ideas behind her last studio album, 2006's "Fox Confessor Brings the Flood." Yet it's also the most revealing and rewarding work in a 12-year recording career that has seen Case evolve from an alt-country siren to a singular songwriter as capricious as a weather vane.

By unshackling its adventurous side, the band helps Line soar gracefully, at least in part.

The sheer heft of Communion makes it hard to absorb the songs individually while discouraging the casual spins necessary to embed them in your skull. But almost every song sounds terrific in the moment.

The striking thing about Justin Townes Earle's new record is the variety of styles it visits in just over 30 minutes. Just as striking, this variety doesn't come across as dabbling or disparity.

Most of Little Hells is musically quite simple, giving the sense that whatever Nadler has to say rests entirely in her sound, not in the songs themselves

Troubadour, the Somali-born artist's follow-up to his great debut, is a smart fusion of influences.

This is a stroke of genius.

Grimy and disheveled, clever and infectious, it's a sloppy heap of classic pop, psychedelic haze, spastic rock, and teenage disaffection mixed to lo-fi imperfection in some kid's filthy garage.

Wrath furthers Lamb of God's reputation for craft and innovation and argues to a broader audience that metal is a style rife with fresh ideas.

Roll On finds Cale back in vintage form.

The results are pleasant, and often little more.

This is a more basic, stripped-down affair, yet Copeland's vocals are no less powerful. Boy, has she got a set of lungs.

He continues to deliver the goods on Lucky by singing about the unlucky.

Zapotec has a regal, brassy sort of sweep--check the martial melody 'The Akara'--and the best songs on Holland twist and turn over a warm, buttery backbeat.

The indie troubadour spins out his trademark blend of vintage country-folk that begs to be played on an old turntable and heard through the screen door. Fortunately, great music transcends its medium.

Years of Refusal is Morrissey's third album this decade, and it is easily his most vital and engaging and maybe even heartbreaking since 1992's "Your Arsenal."

After releasing two albums that bored even its most ardent fans, . . . And You Will Know Us by the Trail of Dead is back to blowing minds with The Century of Self.

Girl Talk succeeded by deconstructing pop hits; we heard every prerecorded sample in a new way. N.A.S.A., on the other hand, just slaps everything up there, and expects it to stick. It doesn't.

All of these songs could stand alone on separate albums; it just so happens that this good music supports a good cause.

His materialism threads throughout So Far Gone (champagne flutes, girls, BlackBerrys, more girls), but he chases that with soft touches of humor and honesty.