The real weak link is Hawk's airy falsetto, which is too underwhelming for its own good. But give him a hairbrush, a mirror, and another couple of years and we'll see how it sounds then.

For a while, Magic Hour - the band's fourth full-length - lives up to the promise of its hilarious, zebra-centric-2001: A Space Odyssey cover art. But the wheels fall off with "Year of Living Dangerously," a campy, aimless doodle not even rescued by its random violin solo.

Too often on Radio Wars, velvet-voiced singer Juanita Stein seems content to hover around a handful of notes, and that makes it hard to distinguish this stuff from similarly styled fare by the Duke Spirit or Doves.

Pyramid lacks the spark a document of this importance deserves.

Seaside Rock amounts to a log of underhashed production ideas from the test kitchen.

Aphrodite feels like a disjointed hodge-podge of shallow Hi-NRG dance-floor bangers for a decidedly older crowd.

The guest-heavy formula mostly clicks, particularly on 'Clean Up Crew' with Rock and 'The Way I Live' with Mary J. Blige, but a few misfires--including awkward Slug and Immortal Technique verses--stop this memorable collaboration just short of greatness.

The music simply crawls by in a maddeningly static mid-tempo blur, going about its melancholy business on the way to nowhere.

Working with producer Adam Kasper, Vedder played nearly everything on the album. And that gives Into the Wild a cozy, intimate feel.

The trio's strongest asset has always been inspired, thoughtfully crafted pop songs, which Share the Joy should finally make clear.

Light on laughs and riffage, the title/cover entendre makes it hard to tell if it is supposed to be so terrible or a joke about being so terrible... But the long-available cover of Radiohead's "Street Spirit" is inspired, and first single "Nothin's Gonna Stop Us" grafts one candy rope hook after another into one of the year's finest melodies.

The misstep here is that it all sounds too safe - rarely does he deviate from the sweet, melodious splendor of previous S&S discs.

Just an okay record.

This might not be the experimental genre-crossing venture the duo set out to accomplish, but it is a slideshow of timeless pop songs.

Giving us a taste of what this genre [shoegaze]could encompass with a modernized touch.

The result may surprise some just looking to get lost in Glowstick Land: sure, there are plenty of K-hole zone-outs, but just as often Zimmerman puts songcraft and danceability ahead of the usual sci-fi-filter tricks.

You're still way better off listening to the studio version.

Breakout is a puzzling mishmash that makes sense only if you read between the lines and see the 15-year-old trapped in a machine that is partly of her own design.

Because Seger has honed his craft to such a silver-bullet point, the album never feels like a retread; as on John Fogerty’s underrated Deja Vu All Over Again from 2004, roots-rock tradition seems renewed in Seger’s hands.

It's a broad spectrum of styles, but sometimes that's just another way to describe the comfort of being your (multiple) selves.

A triumphant sequel.

Houston's version of Leon Russell's American Idol staple "A Song for You" works up to a deliciously cheesy club-pop climax. Still, with a pair of "I Believe I Can Fly"–style contributions from R. Kelly and a blustery Diane Warren ballad called "I Didn't Know My Own Strength," there's no denying the message that I Look to You was designed to hammer home. Expect fresh drama soon.

He has an eerie gift for memorable melodies, and it's put to good use on this light-hearted album, which burns through 22 songs in 45 minutes.

Jimmy Eat World go to great lengths to recapture the anthemic thrills of "Clarity"--and give or take a few bouts of brooding cynicism, they’ve succeeded.

The Only Place [is] better-sung, slower, [and] expansively produced.

There just isn't much personality on display here: Icky Blossoms strive for in-your-face decadence, but most of the time, they sound like every other anonymous dance-pop act on the planet.

As confidently current as Say It comes off, it doesn’t sound susceptible to fashion. Given enough attentive ears, the Ruffians may have made a statement that will last a long time--or at least assembled enough ears for the next one.

Much like the show’s second season, this second disc fails to build on its predecessor, rehashing the same digs at male bravado, emotional insecurity, and musical eccentricity.