Occasionally beautiful, often irritating.

Producer Alan Moulder (Depeche Mode, Interpol) helps them cautiously move into industrial territory, as on Turn The Bells. But if McVeigh's methods irked you before, they only get worse on Ritual.

More of that raw Jay and less of the glitz could have salvaged the album.

It all adds up to an energizing, smile-inducing debut.

He's still getting more women than a taping of Ellen, but on Tha Carter IV – his most emo album to date – it sounds like what he really needs is a hug.

The record lags a little in the middle as the songs start to blend together. There’s enough differentiation that you don’t want to skip them altogether, but it’s a kink to work out on later records.

For the first time Audioslave sound more like a cohesive unit than a product of two groups spliced together.

It's consistently uplifting and bright, and its best moments feature powerful orchestral sweeps, a surprisingly adept disco hook and even some gospel. But the lyrics are often so cringe-worthy that A Head Full Of Dreams comes off like that one friend of yours who's so positive you want to punch him.

Love, Hate And Then There’s You isn’t entirely devoid of entertainment value--Stollsteimer’s misguided attempts to replicate the successful sound of the Kaiser Chiefs, Franz Ferdinand, the Strokes and other alt-rock radio staples at the time these songs were conceived turns out to be quite funny, however unintentional the humour.

Its best moments reference the label’s penchant for breezy, languorous guitar lines, like on the catchy Weekenders. If only Minks would lay off the synth and embrace the guitar more often.

Songs like Roll Up, Hopes And Dreams and The Race best showcase his self-assured charm.

Maybe the label was hoping to get back some of the Goo Goos' 90s magic, but that doesn't happen.

Their second album is full of clean, infectious dance numbers that bring to mind both New Order and Peter, Bjorn and John.

Sweet and Hoffs’s pedigree separates this covers comp from the chaff, which is why people like Lindsey Buckingham guest on their inspired version of Fleetwood Mac’s 'Second Hand News' and George Harrison’s kid, Dhani, on their take on 'Beware Of Darkness.'

The album shows he’s progressed since bursting onto the scene four years ago, but it’s definitely not going to change the minds of those who think he’s ruining dance music.

It's all a bit of a muddle.

If you can deal with the nostalgia factor, it’s a pleasant but unremarkable disc.

His house-derived grooves don't have a lot of the swing and soul that older heads crave, but they're also not nearly as heavy-handed and macho as his haters claim.

Unfortunately, too many songs have that thin, cheap quality that so many indie dance bands were into a decade ago. Good thing they're so ridiculously catchy.

While opener 'Trash' sounds like the sort of thing Bloc Party should have done after "Silent Alarm," most tracks are hurt by a real lack of lyrical depth.

What he winds up with is an unfocused yet sonically balanced mess.

CSS are so desperate to do something new that they never stick with their strengths.

When she strays into pop territory, her lyrics and vocals remind us of electroclash’s cheesiest moments. When she keeps it raw and downtempo, real talent shines through.

Lyrics are heavy-handed (especially on the Papa Don't Preach rip-off Keeping My Baby), melodies are forgettable, and her voice has little charm or personality. Disappointing.

The album definitely grows on repeat listen.

Still, despite his naive imitations, Costa has a gift for catchy hooks, and once he figures out who he is musically, the results could be remarkable.

Flowers plays it too safe. For a record about Las Vegas, he sure doesn't gamble much.

Slick production (including Pharrell, will.i.am and Timbaland) and guest spots from Kendrick Lamar and T.I. distract from all that Lothario shtick enough to make the album a poppy, easy summer listen that grows on you with each play.