OG Ron C on Drank zeroes in on specific rhymed couplets and then loops them, and the effect makes the lines hum and resonate. ... Best, those that have wondered how soft rock singers Michael McDonald and Kenny Loggins would sound chopped and screwed now have an answer.

If Braxton, 50, collaborates more broadly on Sex & Cigarettes, she's still zeroed in on the rich emotional territory she explored on "Love, Marriage & Divorce."

Who Are You is a relaxing and intricate work. Nine instrumentals that mix electronic and acoustic instruments, the music revels in texture and layers.

Though there are highlights--including the winsome title track and the jumpy "Wait in the Car"--Deal's songwriting isn't quite as sticky as it used to be, with simpler melodies and fewer turns of phrase that pop like the twisted bumper-sticker slogans she once threw out.

Songs are built on weird, chiming chords or little fragments of picking and echoes that make her purposefully modest arrangements feel interesting and unique every time.

The result is a border-blurring convergence, one likely to propel whatever dance floor is lucky enough to receive it.

Expertly appointed but emotionally inert homage to the place that he says made him.

The band’s debut for respected imprint Rough Trade--which has served as home to bands including the Raincoats, the Smiths, Warpaint and dozens more--features short, beefy rock songs that run just long enough to make the point.

Once a groove machine that favored the warmth of live instruments, N.E.R.D has roughed up its sound to match these themes; No_One Ever Really Dies is full of heaving beats and harsh digital textures that catch the day’s chaotic spirit in the same way that Williams’ and Hugo’s flashy production work as the Neptunes reflected the prosperity of the post-bling era.

But where Jay-Z raps with style and elegance to spare, Eminem hits clunker after clunker on Revival, his clumsiest record to date. It’s not just the corny jokes and goofy puns, either, although those are plenty bad

Singalong-ready and set to tempos determined not to leave anyone behind, the record marks an explicit return to the spirit of U2’s ultra-earnest mid-’80s work, and also to that era’s eager commercial ambition.

They [Sia and Greg Kurstin] bring effervescent energy to dance-minded tracks such as “Santa’s Coming for us” and the Phil Spector-inspired “Candy Cane Lane” while investing real sincerity into more introspective numbers including “Snowflake” and “Underneath the Mistletoe.”

The result, by definition, breathes, which leads your ear initially to hear Björk’s voice as just another wind instrument; her lyrics don’t jump out the way they did in early stuff like “Hyperballad” or “Possibly Maybe.” But the words on “Utopia,” once they permeate your consciousness, are actually among her most intimate and affecting.

Soul of a Woman catches Jones at her liveliest and most defiant as she lets her powerful voice loose in catchy, funky songs about overcoming hardships and dealing with fickle lovers.

I’ll venture to call it her most focused, most cohesive album yet.

Dylan’s vocal is low in the mix, rendering certain lines difficult to discern, especially to anyone not already intimately familiar with his clever roster of creation stories he cooked up for so many critters. With the distance of nearly four decades, it’s possible now to look back at this period and recognize that yet again, the Bard from Hibbing, Minn., was doing what he’s done so consistently through all phases of his career: challenging orthodoxy.

The band’s fifth album both honors the ideals of classic country rock and rages against it with a freewheeling reflex to push at the genre’s edges.

For all its familiar emotion, though, The Thrill of It All demonstrates Smith’s impressive growth as a vocalist and a songwriter. His singing has gotten deeper and richer.

Yet for an album that promises revelation, Meaning of Life is full of generalities.

Like kindred spirit Dawn Richard, Kelela veers from the requirements of mainstream R&B to explore her own course, and the result is a portent on the genre’s future.

Featuring synthy dance beats, electronic flourish and propellant energy, the record sits alongside similarly infectious endeavors from his impressive discography such as “Odelay,” “Midnight Vultures” and “The Information.”

Breathtakingly beautiful.

Yet another compelling collection of expertly and inspiringly crafted songs that remind us just how wondrous pop music can still be.

Though Acetone wouldn’t seem a likely band for such a treatment, the project makes a solid case for a historical update.

Cyrus’ self-styled country album might be the most weakly considered event record of the year, with lumpy melodies, slapdash rhythms and lyrics that border on self-parody (and not in the way that Nashville’s finest know how to do).

The songs aren’t hackwork--they’re catchy and funny and sexy and daring.

It all sounds great, too, with contributions from a vast array of players and producers, including Matthew Koma, Jacquire King, guitarist Greg Leisz and fiddler Gabe Witcher. The problem is Twain’s singing. ... [Her voice is] lower and less flexible than before, and that works out OK in the slower, moodier stuff here. That’s not the case, though, in the uptempo material, which feels flat and robotic.

Perhacs sings of universal truths and natural wonders, pondering sad winds and spiritual growth through lush, layered vocals and gusts of sound. “Eclipse of All Love” swirls with folk guitar and a sung duet between Perhacs and Sansone. Best are the Holter collaborations.