The pianist has a malleable voice, capable of swinging from poignance to sarcasm, though sometimes Hornby's dense wordplay can't help but sound awkward in making the transition from the page to the speakers.

[The] Los Angeles' funk jesters sound like they're treading water.

For an artist who has sold 30 million albums, his latest release is brutally short on hooks and, most of all, fun. The subversive humor is long gone, and his cultural references (David Cook? Austin Powers? Yet another dis of Mariah Carey?) remain dated.

With its exotic instruments and spacious arrangements, this is a first-rate pop album that doesn’t sound quite like anything else on pop radio.

Most of the rest holds up as credible but hardly ground-breaking pop-rock, an album that proves Garbage still exists even if it hasn't necessarily come up with any new tricks.

These songs are meant to swing, but McCartney lets them plod.

More problematic are the melodies and the songs themselves; they strive for rousing resonance, a deep sense of loss, but often settle for pat prettiness and easy sentimentality.

Keef is a remote presence on his major-label debut.

After all the hub-bub of recent weeks, one of Lee's greatest songs sums up Del Rey's grand entrance: "Is That All There Is?"

Dylan’s craggy voice isn’t really equipped for crooning, so the sometimes middle-brow orchestration and singing--particularly the use of backing choirs--sounds like a misguided attempt to sweeten a dish best served lightly salted.

Shadow also flirts with more conventional songs, putting vocalists at the forefront of "I've Been Trying" and "Sad and Lonely" with acceptable if hardly transcendent results. But when he focuses on dark, shape-shifting mood pieces ("Tedium," "Circular Logic," "Enemy Lines") he remains unmatched.

Strings, guitars and keyboards add color in carefully measured doses. The songs never develop much beyond their initial verse and chorus and rarely bother with contrasting bridge sections, but that’s the point: No jarring changes to throw off the mood.

His rhyme battle with Eminem on 'Psycho' has zero redeeming value, but the two old pros fire away with glee trying to out-psychopath each other. But about halfway through the album, 50 Cent detours from the street to the bedroom.

Hardcore Prince guitar-freaks--those who yearn for an entire album of six-string slash-and-burn in the mold of Jimi Hendrix, Ernie Isley, Eddie Hazel and Prince himself on "Purple Rain" and "I Could Never Take the Place of Your Man"--will find much to love on PlectrumElectrum.... Though the 3rdEyeGirl rhythm section of Donna Grantis, Hannah Ford Welton and Ida Nielsen provides a solid foundation, and shares some lead vocals, the songs feel slight, a touch predictable.

Variation, once a strong suit of Coldplay’s songwriting, isn’t much in evidence. Over nine songs, Martin and company create a mood and then stick with it--to a fault.

Talk about a mixed message. Even Rihanna sounds confused.

Kelly is best when he is at his most absurd, comical and over-the-top.... Sometimes, the jokes go too far.

It adds up to more of a transitional work than a reinvention, a placeholder until Reznor's next major move.

For all that firepower, the music is catchy but tame--she's cozying up to chart-topping formulas rather than disrupting them.

Though not exactly spiritual, Prism does come off as a more serious--if no less formulaic--album than its predecessor. But being taken seriously may be Perry’s greatest challenge yet.

Artistic ambition is a wonderful attribute, but so is the ability to self-edit, and it’s in short supply. There’s a snappy single album of sharp pop music tucked inside the two 20/20 Experience bookends, but it’ll take listeners some work to find it.

The orchestral Storytone comes off as a showy distraction. It's best ignored. Head for the acoustic version instead, which contains a handful of Young's better recent songs, syrup-free.

Sheezus connects because it's more conversational than confrontational, a personal statement that dabbles in pop rather than trying to embody the pop moment.

The gussied-up production--by respected names such as TV on the Radio's Dave Sitek, Chris Coady (who worked with another up-and-coming Chicago group, Smith Westerns) and Jim Abbiss (Arctic Monkeys)--subtracts the charming sloppiness of 2012 debut "Remember When" and amps up the popcraft, but loses some of the energy.

thefearofmissingout makes for an excellent, extended mood piece, but its distinguishing moments and alluring melodies are almost too subtle for their own good.

Mostly, this overstuffed album is about Jay-Z and the self-congratulation of his high-powered friends.

At his best, Wayne was positively psychedelic in his wordplay, capable of creating entire alternative worlds out of a few surrealist metaphors. But he sounds slower, more methodical, less unhinged on Tha Carter IV.

On most of the album, Coldplay's relatively buoyant music tries to submerge the band's most annoying trait. But sometimes Chris Martin, lyricist, just can't help himself.