The National hews too closely to established formula on "Boxer," content to revisit previously explored territory without expanding its sound.

It's a glorious tangle of excess.

The duo's follow-up is a more relaxed affair. Though it, too, has cleverness to spare, the album is less cutesy and self-conscious than its predecessor. The beats are stronger, at times hitting with hip-hop force, and the music is fuller and more imaginative.

His gloomy tales are not silly, but neither are they especially threatening, despite Cooper's mildly fetishistic focus on the predatory instincts of a character who spends most of his time wallowing in self-assessments.

Lots of singers set their dating woes to hard guitars and hummable melodies - Coxon just does it better than most.

Lyrically and musically, the album is not a big departure from the band's classic sound, with all 13 tracks telling a glam-rock story of tattoos, drugs and strippers.

There's something of a jukebox feel to Apollo Sunshine's third album, despite the near-radioactive levels of reverb-hazy psychedelia throughout.

The set's signature disc Lotusflow3r, is its most consistently enjoyable, a far-flung cornucopia of electric guitar licks from one of the instrument's sharpest practitioners.

Soul music impeccably poised between past and future, anchored by a warm voice comfortingly similar to Bill Withers'.

An honest, humble, rootsy record that shows the band maturing.

The 47-year-old Oklahoma native alters that repertoire somewhat with That Don't Make me a Bad Guy, sticking to accessible, down-home rock even as his singing ranges from new directions to bland drains on his natural character.

No one is likely to describe Lee as "happy" - her music relies on an element of gloom - but she sounds confident and in control, and that gets Lee most of the way there.

The trio's new wave-inspired songs may be derivative--and sometimes too derivative, as on the corny, Cars-lite opener, 'B.B. Good'--but they simply sound fresher.

Lanegan and Campbell are different creatures, but they have the same concept of cool.

Mandy Moore faces the same challenge any other singer-songwriter does: delivering songs that are consistently compelling. She does a decent job of it on Amanda Leigh.

Although the alter-ego suggests that Banks would be happy to keep his own name out of it, the fact is that Julian Plenti is ... Skyscraper is the truest reflection of Banks' musical impulses, which don't always shine through in the democracy that is Interpol.

At its best, Keep It Simple is a comforting dispatch from the fairyland where folky soul Morrison masterpieces like 1971's "Tupelo Honey" were born.

Those who care not only about hip-hop but the culture it reflects and shapes will find Nasir Jones' latest the most intriguing, provocative and ultimately troubling album released this year.

They succeeded admirably on a pair of sexually frank EPs in 2006 and earlier this year, and they're back for more on their full-length debut.

Produced by the Pixies' Frank Black, the band's third album is pretty straight-forward musically, all chugging indie rock with fat bass lines and scribbled guitar solos.

The 42-year-old Kansas native continues to mine that vein on her 10th studio album, "Shine," but although her singing is still strong, polish and predictability are its defining traits.

If the lyrics occasionally seem first-draft rough, the melodies are sharper than on 2005's "Other People's Lives," and the varied musical settings--such as the rockabilly of opener 'Vietnam Cowboys' or the spooky New Orleans blues of 'The Voodoo Walk'--throw into sharper relief the classic Kinksian pop of songs like 'You're Asking Me' and the title track, which show Davies alternately snarling and sighing at the world as winningly as ever.

An incisive and funny introduction to the 21-year-old English singer.

Many of Hynde's new songs call for honesty and compassion, and even if she never quite finds those things, her search yields some pretty vital rock 'n' roll.

Mellencamp's folk-leaning rock style remains as distinctive as it is uncomplicated.

No one ought to begrudge Tweedy his hard-won peace of mind, but there's less of the emotional, or musical, turbulence here that made for such compelling listening on previous Wilco records.

Mostly, it's a trip into the not-too-distant past worth taking.

Solange combines retro warmth and current cool in ways her more commercially successful sibling probably can't.