Gonzalez's debut disc, 2005's "Veneer," won over fans with its straightforward lack of production, and his sophomore effort, In Our Nature, does not stray far from the path.

It's easier to marvel at, than relate to, something like 'How Do You Tell a Child,' a country song about explaining death to a youngster. The same goes for 'Katrina.'

"Hip Hop Is Dead" feels bloated and a little self-indulgent at 16 songs, not all of which are as essential as the first few, but that doesn't change the legitimacy of the point Nas is trying to make, or the guts he shows in making it.

For all its sorrowful beauty, "West" is often excruciating to hear as Williams mourns the death of her mother and a stormy relationship that ended badly.

Although Common has always been an earnest rapper, his drive to induce meaning on many of these tunes sometimes comes at the expense of catchiness. They're like cauliflower: nutritious, but without much flavor.

Skip the heavily lifting and split the record into smaller chunks, which makes it easier appreciate the songs for the obvious care that Eisold has put into them.

Some of her tunes are more steady than sizzling, but when she taps into the likes of the soaring, synthesizer-driven 'I'm a Fire,' her smart combination of rich personality and kinetic energy invites a trip to the dance floor.

These songs are fine, if unexciting, vehicles for her voice.

Like "More Specials," the Specials' second-record departure, It's Frightening isn't nearly buoyant as its predecessor. Insofar as its purpose is to rattle the bones, it's a fidgety, impenetrable success.

It plays like a late-career recap of all that's come before, referencing both the bubblegum synth-pop of its early days and the self-conscious black-leather sensuality of its 1987-1993 creative peak.

Jackson ties everything together with his own understated strengths, a sincere manner and grounded perspective that anchor tunes even as they brim with thoughtful passions.

It makes for compelling listening, even if you're not always sure what, exactly, is going on.

However much Los Campesinos! need a good editor--both for its music and lyrics--a red pen would only ruin the fun.

Comprising organ, piano, upright bass and acoustic guitars, as well as the occasional fiddle or burst of New Orleans brass, the music wheezes and strolls with old-timey authenticity.

All the fuss last week over Kanye West and 50 Cent was misplaced: Chamillionaire bests them both while neatly sidestepping the sophomore slump on his second major-label album.

At a mere 33 minutes, "At My Age" leaves listeners wanting more, but then, that seems to be part of Lowe's seduction technique.

He delivers everything that makes Silver Jews records great, but he's fallen victim to his own past successes: the peaks and valleys that made "Tanglewood Numbers" such a dizzying listen have been smoothed down and filled in, leaving the faithful with an album that is merely good.

Subtlety was a defining characteristic of her first two records, and it carries over onto "Not Too Late," where even the differences are understated and discreet.

Pierce hasn't totally rejected quick tempos and piled-high productions, but in the context of the album, the livelier songs are actually the least effective.

It's a strong album that rarely skimps on gut-churning guitars.

The album may lack the emotional heft of the Cure's more patient, atmospheric recordings, but should it wind up being the group's last, it will be remembered as more than an unnecessary footnote.

It's pub rock, but smarter and more ambitious, with music as nimble as the lyrics are sharp.

3 Doors Down--the band and the album--won't be breaking any records with this release, but they have produced a solid, if not spectacular, collection of a dozen tunes for their fans, who have been waiting two years for something new.

Modern touches aside, many of the songs fall somewhere between the Stones' "Exile on Main Street," minus the desperation, and the Kinks classics " Village Green Preservation Society" and "Muswell Hillbillies."

The Atlanta pair's third album, Love on the Inside, adheres to the musical method on which the act has feasted to date, and adds occasional fresh wrinkles to its buoyant, pop-laced country.

Hagerty's chords radiate like heat from hot concrete, forging shapes from the nothingness, like an audio mirage. So it goes for most of the album's 33 minutes.

The vocals come in a robotic monotone on 'I'm Losing My Mind,' and there's not much holding together all the rhythm on the opener, 'The Feeling.' It just shows that finding the right mix between melody and rhythm is a delicate balance, but these dozen tunes strike it more often than not.

The first Lemonheads record in 10 years makes a great case for meat and potatoes, verses and choruses, distortion pedals and minimal production.