Knowle West Boy shows that regardless of era, Tricky does his thing and does it well.

Special guest vocalists, plus a turn at bat from longtime member Jacob Valenzuela on 'Inspiracion,' add intriguing textures to the 15-song set.

The Stand-Ins feels looser and breathier than "Stage Names."

If it all seems messy, it isn't. GCH sounds like an American utopia, where everyone coexists joyfully and thrives on the diversity.

Despite detractors, Simpson remains a gifted vocalist who delivers on most every cut.

Alphabutt is a children's album, 15 songs in 27 minutes that have a breezy, unconditional innocence and more than a little silliness.

In lesser hands this collection of country classics might have been badly mishandled, but in the willing arms of traditionalist extraordinaire Patty Loveless and producer/husband Emory Gordy Jr., the past is brought to new life.

After taking care of some unfinished business in recent years, Brian Wilson shows he still has the stuff of conceptual brilliance on his eighth solo album.

Most of The Block is a reasonable enough approximation of faceless club pop, complete with standard-issue guest stars (the Pussycat Dolls, Timbaland) and out-of-left-field rap bridges.

Young Jeezy balances commercial/ pop aspirations with core hip-hop sounds on The Recession, getting a lift from DJ Toomp, Drumma Boy, Midnight Black and longtime collaborator Shawty Redd on this sonically enjoyable follow-up to 2006's "The Inspiration."

Apollo Sunshine's third album is a delightful head-scratcher that explores old and new elements of psychedelia alike, from string sections, melting organs and echoey vocals to gritty, traveling guitar lines and lyrics about love and reincarnation.

Underoath has made definitive strides at progression without abandoning the muscular, broad-shouldered hardcore that made it a household name.

It gives fans something meaningful they didn't have before (in addition to token brand-new track "Keep My Composure").

Flexing a bit of the angry lyrical edge he boasted on 2005's "Awfully Deep," Roots digs into "fickle DJs," no-talent rappers, Trustafarians and "bourgeois hippies" who "wanna fight my flow," as he proclaims on the track '2 Much 2 Soon.'

Forth not only equals the Verve's best work, but in many cases exceeds it.

The Game goes surprisingly mellow in comparison to his first two efforts.

On her sophomore set, Solange not only takes on a sound that differs from her pop-driven 2002 debut, but demonstrates that unlike her sister Beyoncé--who she vehemently refutes comparisons to on 'God Given Name'--she has no reservations about sharing personal experiences.

The set is at once Slipknot's most ambitious and accessible outing to date, with a broad palette of sounds and textures that shift faster than Michael Phelps off the starting block.

Those in the know can attest DF is merely coming into its own after years on the touring circuit.

With a tiny voice, minimalist arrangements and simple lyrics, this Swedish songwriter has crafted what seems like a magical album, where all its small elements coalesce into something quite big.

While some tunes, like the Columbo-background-music-ready title track, suffer for their weightlessness ('Metronomic Underground,' we miss you), the Motown-meets-Esquivel 'Self Portrait With Electric Brain' and beat-oriented electro of 'Valley Hi!' and 'Pop Molecule' read as exquisitely wrought.

It's muted, but intoxicating stuff.

The set is somewhat of a shambolic affair, wherein kernels of good ideas get blown out, jumbled up or lost in execution.

There are more examples of cover albums gone wrong than gone right. Thankfully Glen Campbell's new set, which finds him ably putting his own twist on tunes from Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers, Foo Fighters, U2, Green Day and John Lennon, among others, fits into the latter category.

The title of Staind's sixth album is a bit of a misnomer, but there are a few new stylistic directions here.

Hatfield does her moody, catchy indie-pop to near-perfection after so much practice (nine solo albums during the past 16 years), and entertaining examples abound here.

You could count the number of hooks on one hand and most tracks clock in at the three-minute mark, ostensibly to let GZA inhale occasionally. But it's worth a listen to hear what sneaky, suspicious, image-heavy tricks still emerge from his notebook.

Occasional clunkers aside, the impassioned delivery and stripped-down G-funk grooves are still more potent than plenty of efforts by rappers half Cube's age.