It’s rare for an album to transport you so fully onto its own terrain, and Witching Hour is a worthwhile retreat.

By trimming thirty minutes off their standard record’s length, the members of My Morning Jacket have paradoxically managed to broaden their sound, cutting the fat to give us ten songs that jive, moon-walk and cock-rock in equal measure.

Somebody’s Miracle is a collection of pleasantly catchy, if unremarkable, pop songs.

This is an unambitious album in the best way.

At this point in his career, Slug seems fully aware of his own routine, and he’s either embracing it with a cheeky self-confidence (read: he’s getting boring) or he’s run out of interesting things to say but still feels like he’s somehow controversial in his honesty.

Metric fails to touch on anything profound.

Ahead of the Lions is pure press-a-button-out-comes-album radio pap.

Albatross is a slow bloom of an album, as likely to frustrate those looking for immediacy as it is to reward those looking for substance in repeated listens.

Perhaps Adams is just earning cheap sympathy with his strained, tour-weary voice, or maybe it’s just too thrilling to hear him revisit Gram, but Jacksonville City Lights does seem to come by its sound honestly.

Xcel’s production doesn’t stray very far from its R&B and soul influences, but this time it comes without almost any samples, relying sometimes on players from a homebrewed funk band to create clearance-free beats instead. Unfortunately, this new recipe doesn’t always hit the mark, and songs such as “Black Diamonds and Pearls” sound more like smooth jazz than What’s Going On-era Marvin Gaye.

Throughout the album, Crow's vocal melodies are her most ambitious and memorable to date.

Aside from those two songs ["Florida" and "Pull The Curtains"], however, there aren't many highpoints.

Bianchi doesn’t seem to be traveling down any new paths.

Where many electronica artists choose to mine vintage soul and hip-hop, very few have looked to 1960s folk-rock and guitar-driven anthems for inspiration. The results are quite astounding - if unexpected - and the change is definitely welcome.

Shows off the group’s ability to transform into a neo-classic Brit-pop band, lush layers and dark undertones intact.

The Modest Mouse influence is apparent but in no way detrimental to Wolf Parade's sound.

With Calla’s song structures and melodies more concrete, though, Valle’s desolate imagery has begun to lose a bit of its mystery, and consequently, some of its appeal.

Less than half of the eighteen tracks are worthwhile additions to Sean Paul's catalogue.

Just as she was becoming irrelevant, Lil’ Kim returns with her hardest, bravest and most exciting album to date.

Much of With a Cape and a Cane is plagued with over-the-top dance wankery and a bit too much recycled influence.

Set Free is a triumph, full of tunes that affect well beyond their modest means.

Made of equal parts detached beauty and inspired disintegration, it is a transmission from another place -- no matter where you live.

Hardcore 97’s fans may be disappointed by a few omissions (only two cuts from Wreck Your Life?), but Alive & Wired is a pretty complete package.

A curiously good time from beginning to end.

Cripple Crow is demanding because of its length - after twenty-two tracks on a single disc, nearly any artist would be difficult to tolerate. But the album is beautifully executed.

The lack of musical coherence here is jarring and irritating.

Your enjoyment of this album will depend on how open you are to cats meowing, telephone rings, and French spoken-word passages weaving in and out of the songs.

A solid set of tunes with some interesting musical elements not typically present in Beam's dynamic.