With Breakout, Cyrus has clearly made a choice to break from the shiny, happy "Hannah Montana" character, but she hasn't scuffed her sound up so much that her fans won't recognize that she's just being Miley.

While her sonic template, modern and spare yet lush, works wonders for “Don’t Go,” it’s otherwise isolated moments — the discordant saxophone blats pulling her toward St. Vincent in the danceable and lopsided “Waste”; the chewy synth bassline of “Crazy [Expletive]”; and the line “When you left me, I was ready for you to leave” in “Walls”--that suggest an excitement the songs can’t quite sustain.

Synthetica affirms what fans have loved about Metric: If the formula isn't broken, don't fix it.

As sequels go, E=MC2 is better than most, boasting a higher, and more consistent, quotient of slinky, dance-floor charm and stronger ballads than "Mimi."

There’s a tremendous amount of preserved intimacy on these unearthed first studio recordings.

On his debut for Sub Pop Records, Gibson comes off as a sound collage artist feverishly darting from one idea to the next.

It's well crafted, but some of T.I.'s best lines obscure the tracks' fuzzy thinking.

Where the debut flaunted relentless production and Waka's defiant word associations, this has more spacious and savvier tracks.

While not as electrifying as "Teflon Don," this 70-minute set deftly mixes grandiose gestures and ominous bravado.

If ‘‘Traffic and Weather,’’ doesn’t as frequently pack the knock-out punch of 2003’s superb ‘‘Welcome Interstate Managers,’’ it still more than holds its own in the fight for pop music that is both catchy and canny.

It’s an appealing snapshot of how Lambert has grown, and how he’s still willing to surprise his listeners and himself.

Although he still goes on a bit long in places, with help from producer buddies like Timbaland, Timberlake--channeling his usual suspects from Michael Jackson to Prince--nails a more cohesive vibe on this follow-up.

A good half of Love & Politics begins to wilt upon closer examination as Arie's blissed-out self-help affirmations posing as lyrics start to penetrate....But whether she's singing clunky therapy metaphors or spinning out more elegant turns of phrase, Arie's raspy voice is always in top form.

Jigsaw is ultimately another mash-up of big electro-dance beats and hip-hop swagger.

Forget about considering the album as a whole and figure out which of the 19 translators here appeal to you. The originals will always be there waiting.

There’s nothing as immediately grabbing here as the irresistible “When I’m Small” from “Eyelid,” and dancefloor imperatives are in lesser supply, but it’s a deficit made up for by deceptively sanguine, slowly evolving tracks like “Bill Murray,” which borrows some of the actor’s sage knowingness for its tenor.

This is a very solid set that places its emphasis on the vocalist’s smooth, rich tone and effortless phrasing.

Tracks like the punk-lite “You Are Waking’’ collapse under the weight of their ambitions, but on the whole Lidell should be admired for his adventurous musical fusions.

Wenu Wenu lacks touches that give a Souleyman show its full charisma--the shouts to and from the audience, the presence of poet Mahmoud Harbi, who whispers to Souleyman the next line to sing, and Souleyman’s hipster-pleasing visual identity — a wiry chain-smoker in red keffiyeh and shades. But the production by Kieran Hebden (Four Tet) is smart and clean, and the songs offer range.

The darkest record that McGraw has ever made.

Simpson has always been the most appealingly self-aware of her pop-tart peers, and for the most part, she works wisely within her simple, spunky skill set.

Thankfully, these are stronger, and Hudson sounds more poised.

At its best, Serotonin dresses nostalgia in neatly pressed new clothes; it's easy to catch yourself singing along as if you'd known some of these songs for half of your life.

Too many cooks in the kitchen notwithstanding, it amounts to 12 songs here with some 40 perfectly crafted hooks.

“Happy” is a strong ambassador for the mostly beguiling, sometimes meandering “G I R L,” Pharrell’s new album his first solo effort in eight years.

It's not just that it's larded with harsh dissonance; the compositions, arrangements, poesy, and performances come at the listener in discrete shards.

For a few tracks, like "Magic Chords," her sound starts becoming a trap for a song that never quite coalesces. But the flip side is "All I Can," which reveals a streak of slow-build adult pop craft that's kept under wraps for much of the album.

It's been a trying but triumphant past few years for Melissa Etheridge. Her celebratory new album reflects those times with some of her most compelling songwriting in years (particularly 'Map of the Stars') cast in her usual power-rock framework.

Not all this mope-a-dope sounds fresh, but let's hope Smith doesn't find his cure for pain just yet.

At times a bit too slick and overproduced, her new songs are rooted in the same mysticism and concern for humanity that marked her early work, except now she’s updated her sound with contributions from musicians such as Julia Holter and Ramona Gonzalez from Nite Jewel.

[An] unapologetically polished album, which reframes their music without sapping their identity.

It’s Album Time is mostly instrumental, and devoted to sustaining one long groove that touches down on disco, lounge, and chillwave.

Somehow, it all works together, from the psychedelic guitar warble to the bits of prog to the almost country-style harmonies.

The songs are uniformly good and produced with restraint to allow the singer room to breathe life into the first-person narratives. Unfortunately, there are two requisite MC cameos, which threaten to sink strong songs.

At least seven of the 10 tracks score immediately.

Grace/Confusion goes above and beyond the call of pop, and signals grander adventures to come.

Unfortunately, the desire to capture that vibe outweighs strong melodies or a tight sense of dynamics on the first half of the album.

As a thinker, Armstrong isn't always comprehensible or original, but he knows how to communicate his frenzied thoughts enjoyably.

For the album’s driving first half, the messiness is captivating, culminating in “Dream Captain,” reminiscent of T. Rex on “Bang a Gong.” The second half teeters on standard bohemian dissipation, but with a sly and rare self-knowingness.

Lasers oscillates between angsty rap-metal crossover tracks laden with political platitudes and blatantly clubby, bass-thumping radio-rap jams.

What Ross didn't say was Pretty borrows liberally from the things that made [the Beatles and the Who] superficially interesting--the practiced eccentricity, the constant innovation--without paying tribute to the cultural and political sensibilities that made them great.

The band's held on to its drive and focus, and the hits outnumber the misses.

The hurtling, new wave keyboard rush of 'Never Miss a Beat,' the pop-radio swirl of 'Like It Too Much,' and the casually brilliant bass-bounce of 'Good Days Bad Days' prove the band still has more than enough hooks, and brash charm, to get it through even the longest of songwriting winters.

There’s less party and more perspective. He sees the troubles he went through before prison for what they are.

He smartly revisits songs from Bruce Springsteen ('The Hitter') and, for those who miss the raw, hungry Jones, he delivers a roaring rendition of Tommy James & the Shondell's 'I'm Alive.'

The flawed set is buoyed by its clear vision and diverse musicality.

Ironically, it's not their youthful flair but their depth of experience that pulls it off.

With their fourth album, they settle nicely into a solid career as a guitar rock band as interested in frantic danceable rhythms as smoother, but still fidgety, ballads marked by lush, reverb-laden crooning.

2 Chainz’s fixations are the same: money, women , clothes, drugs, and lots of trap beats. Still, things come off more polished.

Frost is prime Crowes, a set of songs about dudes who are buzzed, crooked, and haunted, all delivered with bluesy swagger and infused with psychedelic spirit.... The Crowes delve into hippie square-dance jams and bluegrass gospel tunes with an earnest zeal, though style trumps substance on most of the tracks.

Damon & Naomi have refined a formula at this point--and their cult of fans should appreciate this new glimpse--but for others it may still be an acquired taste.

Indeed, it's hard to distinguish Cook's sound from that of his own idols, like Our Lady Peace and Better Than Ezra.

The group compensates for meager substance with plenty of style and energy, and has enough of both to almost pull it off.

Standards collections from pop artists are de rigueur and Nelson’s trusty touring band has been replaced by a tasteful cocktail-jazz unit. For those reasons, American Classic doesn’t make the indelible mark its predecessor did.

It adds up to a record that's full of charm, but you wonder about its sticking power. Asa still feels like a tremendous talent who could stand to take more risks.

King George isn't breaking new ground, but Here for a Good Time doesn't threaten his crown.

The result is another engaging, club-inspired nightmare. This one, though, doesn't ever jolt you awake.

The result? Another record--and a good one--very much like the records Parker has been making for the past decade.

As gifted as she is, there is occasionally a reserved quality to her vocals and the production, with Van Morrison’s “Wild Night” not quite having the requisite boogie woogie.

Singer-songwriter Eilen Jewell continues to move away from her dusty country sound with an album drenched in vibrato and overlaid at points with the trappings of West Coast noir.

Singer-songwriter John Hiatt's 20th album shows him still cranking out quality roots music for grown-ups.