‘Black Butterfly’

‘Black Butterfly’

Buckcherry (Atlantic)

Grade: A

Buckcherry staged a monstrous comeback with 2006’s “15.”

Led by frontman Josh Todd and guitarist Keith Nelson, Buckcherry clawed its way back to the top, and once again, Buckcherry brings a hard-living, take-no-prisoners style to their equally strong follow-up, “Black Butterfly.”

Shuffling between raw barroom rock and a few lighter touches, Buckcherry’s sex, drugs and rock ’n’ roll spirit goes just far enough without becoming a caricature — and the rest of the band (guitarist Stevie D, bassist Xavier Muriel and drummer Jimmy Ashhurst) are as tight a unit as you’ll find.

“Rescue Me” bursts the bubble on the pitfalls of the rock lifestyle, “Tired of You” is for those who need to kick a weak girlfriend to the curb and “Talk to Me” offers the battle-cry lyric, “Love don’t mean a thing.”

“A Child Called ‘It’” speaks to parental neglect and just plain swings behind a tight bass groove, they offer a romantic acoustic jam with “All of Me,” and pull no punches when it comes to controlling your own destiny on the smokin’ “Imminent Bail Out.”

“Don’t Go Away” and “Dreams” showcase some hard balladry, the latter offering lush reverb and a soaring chorus, and “Rose” celebrates that person that sticks by you.

The band’s star first rose in 1999 with the ode-to-substances smash “Lit Up,” and they hit the same unapologetic note here with “Too Drunk,” which is already getting some serious play.

There’s no denying it, Buckcherry is what in-your-face rock ’n’ roll is all about.

— John Kosik, Associated Press

‘Dear Science’

TV on the Radio (DGC/Interscope)

Grade: A

TV on the Radio’s “Dear Science” is quite simply a masterpiece.

Two years after their acclaimed major-label debut, “Return from Cookie Mountain,” the New York quintet’s new album raises the bar even more with original, artsy, layered and funky music. This is music for the heart, brain and soul — 11 tunes erupting with fuzz, organ, horns, falsetto and lyrics ripe with strange, beautiful, poetic imagery.

From the opening chant of “ba, ba, ba, ba, ba” and frenetic drumbeats on the album’s first track “Halfway Home” to the Prince-worthy sexual shouts and flute melodies on last track “Lover’s Day,” “Dear Science” proves TV on the Radio’s versatility and staying power.

The band’s frontman, Tunde Adebimpe, whose star will only rise with a key role in Jonathan Demme’s upcoming film “Rachel Getting Married,” creates snapshots of love and war, alienation and inspiration alongside big-bearded vocalist and guitarist Kyp Malone.

The pair splits the album’s lyrical duties, with band co-founder and talented producer Dave Sitek pitching in. Malone’s funky instincts and sharp words brilliantly balance out Adebimpe’s heady, dark ones.

— Solvej Schou, Associated Press

‘Big Bad World’

Plain White T’s (Hollywood)

Grade: F

The Plain White T’s, for all of the bluster over their Grammy-nominated No. 1 single “Hey There Delilah,” are incapable of thrills. They’ve played it shamefully safe on their new album “Big Bad World,” as if they had no clout at all.

Each turn toward the bridge soars just enough to let you know it’s coming, but not so much to stir the senses. Lyrics like “staring me down with those electric eyes” are thrust nonironically upon the listener, as if lead singer and songwriter Tom Higgenson had never heard of the 1980s and each of the 700 bands that used an eerily similar line before him.

“Meet Me In California” is about the love travails of Higgenson, and the elusive treasures that await him on a move to the Golden State. There’s a girl in the picture, of course, and the storyline might have held a measure of drama, had the band not drowned it in syrupy strains devoid of musical grit.

There’s simply no way to like this.

— Ron Harris, Associated Press

‘Time the Conqueror’

Jackson Browne (Inside Recordings)

Grade: B

It would seem unfathomable but Jackson Browne, a left-wing activist who is suing Republican Sen. John McCain for using his song “Running On Empty” in his presidential campaign, once thrived musically under Republican administrations. His finest, most eloquent albums — “Late for the Sky” (1974) and “The Pretender” (1976) — were released during the Ford administration.

But during the Reagan era, Browne’s albums abruptly shifted the focus from poetic, interpersonal introspection to political diatribes scolding American policy domestic and abroad. His fan base dwindled and his melodies failed him as he became more strident. “I’m Alive” in 1993 was a welcome return to relationship-based material but his two studio albums since then have been forgettable.

On “Time the Conqueror,” Browne, 59, has reclaimed some of the musical grace of his best ’70s work despite mixing political commentary (the Bush administration-bashing “The Drums of War”) with personal songs like the winsome “Giving That Heaven Away.” The latter, with its cheery organ and pop hook, sounds of a piece with side two of 1980’s “Hold Out.”

Only two songs keep “Time the Conqueror” from scaling Browne’s top shelf: the idiotic “Going Down to Cuba,” a tune so insipid — every woman in Cuba “has gardenias in their hair” he sings longingly — it could offend. At nine minutes, the plodding “Where Were You,” echoes Browne’s ’80s missteps. Still, eight out of 10 keepers is admirable, especially as it comes this late in Browne’s formidable career.

— Howard Cohen, Miami Herald

‘Love, War, and the Ghost of Whitey Ford’

Everlast (Martyr/Sony)

Grade: C

Everlast’s first album in four years begins with two tracks that carry the whiff of strong ideas past their sell-by date. Opening with a brassy flourish, the rapped “Kill the Emperor” might have been a fist-waver back in the Bush-bashing days of yore; now it’s like the last fanatic left shouting at an “Impeach the President” rally. And Johnny Cash’s iconic “Folsom Prison Blues,” cleverly spiced up with a familiar sample from House of Pain’s “Jump Around,” is still fun — but would have been revelatory a decade ago, when the Man in Black re-emerged as an outlaw godfather to hip-hop.

The rest of “Ghost” is more richly produced and rocking than past Everlast. Regardless, it largely settles into the familiar furrow he’s plowed since his 1998 smash “What It’s Like”: hardscrabble, blue-collar stories set to a shuffle equal parts hip-hop, folk and blues.

If it’s a well-worn groove, it’s also an accomplished one. Everlast probably will never have the detachment necessary to reach the levels of a Springsteen or even a Mellencamp, but the plain-spoken, first-person approach sometimes pays off with a song like “Friend,” a heartfelt acoustic track that’s one of his finest moments.

— Dan LeRoy, Hartford Courant

‘Gift of Screws’

Lindsey Buckingham (Reprise)

Grade: B

A decade ago, “Gift of Screws” was going to be Lindsey Buckingham’s fourth solo album, but a Fleetwood Mac reunion got in the way, and many of those songs ended up on Mac’s “Say You Will” in 2003. Now Buckingham has resurrected the title for his fifth solo work, the successor to 2006’s “Under the Skin.”

Mac fans will be pleased to hear Mick Fleetwood and John McVie join Buckingham on several tracks, including the bluesy stomp “Wait For You” and the unhinged garage-rock romp of the title track. And elsewhere, Buckingham resurrects the percussive experimentalism of “Tusk” (”Great Day”) and demonstrates his prowess at writing sunny and instantly catchy pop melodies (”Did You Miss Me”).

Sometimes his studio wizardry and guitar skills — Buckingham is an underrated guitar hero — get the best of him: “Time Precious Time” and a few others impress mostly as technical achievements. But they still impress.

— Steve Klinge, Philadelphia Inquirer

‘Grapefruit Moon: The Songs of Tom Waits’

Southside Johnny with La Bamba’s Big Band (Leroy)

Grade: A-

Southside Johnny Lyon isn’t the first singer to tackle an album’s worth of Tom Waits songs. Bluesman John Hammond Jr. produced a career highlight with 2001’s “Wicked Grin,” and even actress Scarlett Johansson took a shot this year. “Grapefruit Moon,” however, is a particularly inspired reimagining, resulting in a unique slice of Americana.

As the longtime trombonist for Southside’s Asbury Jukes (as well as the Max Weinberg Seven), Richie “La Bamba” Rosenberg is deeply familiar with Southside Johnny’s raspy-voiced style. His brilliantly unfussy big-band arrangements at times are a natural extension of Southside’s rocking, horn-stoked R&B, even allowing room in a few cases for the singer to blow his harmonica. Other numbers show Southside to be an elegant balladeer while highlighting the classic songcraft behind Waits’ gutter poetry.

Waits gives his imprimatur to the project, lending his familiar croak to a rambunctiously swinging duet on “Walk Away.”

— Nick Cristiano, Philadelphia Inquirer

‘Little Wild One’

Joan Osborne (Plum/Womanly Hips)

Grade: B

Joan Osborne took a rapid trip to popularity with her 1995 hit “One of Us” and maintained that standing in the years that followed as part of the Lilith Fair lineup, but her music has usually been too wide-ranging to fit comfortably into the mainstream. The 46-year-old Kentucky native rejoins the production team from her breakthrough on “Little Wild One” and spins a broad spectrum of rock tapestries married to warm, personal musings centered on a common theme.

The one-time vocalist for The Dead knows her way around eclectic brews, assessing personal wounds with earthy grit alongside the metronomic sway of “Meet You in the Middle,” and hooting with a gentle quaver reminiscent of Emmylou Harris on the folk-leaning “Light of This World.” Electric jangle colors the rumbling “Rodeo” as she loosens up to a near yodel, while her relaxed side lines the mellow “Daddy-O.” Contemplations of New York City are the consistent thread, whether in the enticing praise found in the simmering, roomy anthem “Hallelujah in the City” or the melding of hollow piano to broad, sweeping strokes built to convey Gotham’s physicality in “Cathedrals.” She nibbles at gospel with cool, mountain-style presence on the wistful valentine “Bury Me on the Battery,” embracing diversity that suits and enriches her subject matter.

— Thomas Kintner, Hartford Courant