On the impressive Sour Soul, the Canadian trio that built its profile through Odd Future and Gucci Mane covers bangs out rich blaxploitation-invoking live instrumentals, providing a perfect canvas for the Wu-Tang Clan vet's vivid rhymes about dodging police, jewelry and, oddly enough, yoga.

Whereas 2010's Born Free's presentation of a gentler, more ripened Rock occasionally came across as calculated, here the singer--who also produced most of this album--fits comfortably into a modern country-rock landscape that seems practically tailor-made for him: a God-fearing good old boy with a hard-rock heart and an outlaw-country spirit.

It's big, bold and still stands out next to anything coming from Nashville.

An album that works better as a musical koan than it does a hip new collection of indie folk.

Smoke + Mirrors may seem too recycled and belabored to entice the unconverted, but the hints of hidden depths are a pleasant surprise.

Much like its forebear, the album's 12 tunes are tight, tidy pop-rockers, presented in her characteristic straightforward-yet-slightly-skewed manner.

Of the book, the flick, and the soundtrack, only the music really hits hard enough to leave a lasting mark.

If there's a funnier, stranger and more touchingly bizarre album released this year, it will be a very good year indeed.

Ink has clearly studied his success, and it feels strategic that Full Speed is sardine-packed with star collaborators.

Reflection represents a promising first step for a girl group that has long been awaiting stardom and has quickly established itself as a wrecking crew of positive role models.

Making the most of Capitol's Studio B--a Los Angeles landmark where Sinatra recorded--Dylan captures his band live, with stirring intimacy. As curator, he gets credit for avoiding obvious hits like "Stardust" and "Fly Me to the Moon," instead picking "Why Try to Change Me Now?" and the show-stopping closer, "That Lucky Old Sun," an old sufferer's plea for relief

American Middle Class is a focused collection of songs.

Her lyrics feel like they're whispered directly into the ear; her guitar playing (the only accompaniment aside from the occasional flute) is even more meticulous. But the true leap is in the set's many quietly arresting moments.

Part of the fun of The Lone Bellow is playing spot the influence: James Gang here, Staples Sisters there, Warren Zevon, Faces, lots of Crosby Stills Nash & Young. But to its credit, the band channels these icons with a commensurate amount of tact and respect.

For 2012's The Connection, the steroid-heavy production was somewhat tempered so emotional catharsis could propel the album, and the same holds true for new collection F.E.A.R. (Face Everything and Rise).

On Dahlia's debut, My Garden, she transcends the sum of her seemingly disparate influences, proving herself to be a relatively distinct artist, even if her risks don't always pay off.

The stripped-down songs on Terrible World--guitar-driven variations on God-fearing gospel ("Carolina Low") and Laurel Canyon country ("Lake Song")--are its best. After years of extravagance, dressing down turns out to be The Decemberists' strong suit.

On this adventurous LP, the critically lauded Scottish sextet waits until track nine, "Ever Had a Little Faith?," to offer one of its patented gently strummed character studies.

Panda Bear Meets the Grim Reaper, Lennox's fifth studio LP, is his most direct and accessible statement yet.

Aside from an understandable naivete, Trainor's weaknesses are her stylistic cherry-picking and her compulsion to appear adorably relatable and socially correct all at once.

What results is a new-ish, but not necessarily improved, Nickelback.

While it's too early to tell if The Pinkprint is a classic, it's safe to say it's her best album to date. Minaj was finally able to out-rap herself and purge issues she's struggled with in private in her most exposed fashion yet.

Perhaps more than any other young hitmaker, Charli has a sound that is distinctively her own, despite the murderers' row of producer-songwriters onboard.

The overall sound might be slighter and less sprawling, but it's also more sharply focused.

While it's not the Clan in full, you'd be hard-pressed to find a better supporting cast. If Tomorrow is, in fact, the group's swan song, 36 Seasons proves that Wu's members can do just fine--and maybe even better--on their own.

Lyrics like "You don’t have to be big and tall/To stand up and hold your own" (from "Miracles") play like inspirational memes. Still, their hearts are in such the right place that it's hard to totally root against them.

Hood Billionaire lands in a dull gray area between feel-good retro rap (its first two singles are the Memphis homage "Elvis Presley Blvd" and the pleasant but forgettable jazz jangle of "Keep Doin' That [Rich Bitch]") and Rozay greatest-hits karaoke that tries and fails to recapture the impact of his bulletproof Teflon Don bombast.

The recipe might be different, but the ingredients are largely the same.