Tori Amos'second full-length solo effort has often been considered a transitional album, a building on the success of Little Earthquakes that enabled her to pursue increasingly more adventurous releases in later years. As such, it has been unfairly neglected when in fact it has as good a claim as any to be one of the strongest, and maybe even the strongest, record she has put out. Able to appeal to a mass audience without being shoehorned into the incipient "adult album alternative" format that sprang to life in the mid-1990s, Amos combines some of her strongest melodies and lyrics with especially haunting and powerful arrangements to create an artistic success that stands on its own two feet. The best-known tracks are the two contemporaneous singles "God," a wicked critique of the deity armed with a stiff, heavy funk-rock arrangement, and "Cornflake Girl," a waltz-paced number with an unnerving whistle and stuttering vocal hook.

The songs on Solitude Standing, Suzanne Vega's second album, had years listed beside them on the lyric sheet, so you could see that some of them dated back to 1978. But that bold admission heralded the album's triumph – its diversity was what made it so good. Partially, that was because the old songs were the equal of anything on the first album – tunes like the a cappella slice-of-life "Tom's Diner" and the warmly romantic "Gypsy" simply wouldn't have fit thematically on the debut. On Solitude Standing, however, they became part of an album of story songs set in a variety of musical contexts; many had band arrangements, and in fact, members of Vega's touring band often were credited as co-writers. Additionally, Vega had developed more as a singer without losing the focused intonation that had made her debut – one of many compelling elements which helped make "Luka," a character song about domestic abuse, a fluke hit.

After languishing for ten years in the rock wilderness, the Scottish stadium-shakers are back with Black And White 050505, which has been trumpeted by manyas a mighty return to form. And yes, Jim Kerr's vocals are still tremulously emotive, Charlie Burchill is as stirring as ever on his jangling, soaring guitar and the songwriting errs, as always, on the side of supersize anthem. But this spanking new effort, while powerful, boasts a distinctly ethereal quality, softening the stomping stridency of the Simple Minds we knew in the 1980s. Opening track "Home" flirts with an intriguing new sound, haunting yet uplifting with Kerr at his dramatic best, while "Sparkle In The Rain" shimmers with chiming glory. Packed with potential crowd-pleasers, Simple Minds may have stuck wisely with their winning New Gold Dream formula, but they've brought it rocketing up to date. Fans will be gleefully punching the air within minutes. Dissenters, well, they might just be converted.

That the opening bars to Cry finds Jim Kerr opining "It's difficult to love you when you do the things you do time and time again" almost implies that the hideously unfashionable Simple Minds are once again anticipating getting stabbed in the buttocks by poison pens and have decided to save their critics the bother by writing the reviews for them. Well, if that's the case, they've done themselves a little bit of an injustice. The good news–and from this world, not the next–is that Jim Kerr has not reneged on his commitment to making an indecently modest pop record, one where any delusional notions of stadium rock empires are held in check and where melody is a stronger currency than reverb and hot air. Although the cleaner-than-a-kitchen-showroom production is out of step with the contemporary, scuffed-up sounds of "now"–Simple Minds remain hamstrung by their own outmoded brand of professionalism–Cry has more than enough decent tunes to entice persons beyond the well-creased folds of their fan base.

"Bualadh Bos" means "Clap Your Hands" in Irish, and popular Irish alternative rock band the Cranberries encourage their audiences to do just that on this collection, the group's first official live album. Bualadh Bos: The Cranberries Live features 15 songs recorded between 1994 and 1998 at concerts in the United States, Canada, Norway, and Sweden, with the group performing most of their best-known songs for enthusiastic fans. Selections include "Linger," "Zombie," "Dreams," "Sunday," "Ridiculous Thoughts," "Free to Decide," and many more.

Neon Lights is Simple Minds' covers album. Frankly, these projects often serve little purpose beyond announcing that the artists concerned have run out of original ideas. With the Simple Minds' new album of freshly composed material, Our Secrets Are the Same, now shelved due to legal complications, the Minds have opted to doff their caps in the direction of the heroes of their youth, such as David Bowie, Lou Reed, and the Doors. This is the material the band performed when they were scrawny Glaswegian punks called Johnny & the Self-Abusers. The arrangements here are slightly dated techno-rock efforts, albeit without the expansive pomp and bluster of their stadium-straddling 1980s heyday. Even so, Neon Lights is probably too respectful. Many of these numbers–Echo & the Bunnymen's "Bring on the Dancing Horses," Bowie's "The Man Who Sold the World"–are identikit presentations, while electro-rock assaults on Them's "Gloria" and the Doors "Hello I Love You" are monotonous and misguided. A very interesting revision of Pete Shelley's "Homosapien" and a faithful, powerful reading of the Velvet Underground's "All Tomorrow's Parties" are much better.

Simple Minds signed to Chrysalis for Néapolis and saw the return of Derek Forbes on bass. Néapolis signals a return to form while remaining on the cutting edge. Unlike U2, the band they have been most often compared to, Simple Minds have not lost themselves in techno beats and processed samples. Longtime fans will embrace this album; from the opening track, "Song for the Tribes," through the two singles, "Glitterball" and "War Babies," one immediately recognizes that classic sound. Other standout tracks include "Tears of a Guy," "Superman V Supersoul," and a potential third single, "Killing Andy Warhol." The biggest surprise on the album is "Androgyny," a welcomed instrumental in the tradition of their earlier works (see Empires and Dance, Sister Feelings Call, and Sons and Fascination). It's nice to know that in the 1990s, one classic new wave band hasn't forgotten what it is all about. Unfortunately, Chrysalis felt there was not enough of a following outside of Europe to justify the worldwide release of the album.

Reuniting with all their original members plus original producer Stephen Street just over a decade after their swan song Wake Up and Smell the Coffee, the Cranberries recapture the sound of their earliest records on 2012's Roses. Nearly 20 years have passed since their breakthrough Everybody Else Is Doing It So Why Can't We?, so it shouldn't come as a surprise that there are some signs of age on Roses, notably in an increased sense of professionalism in the band's craft and also in a slight stripping of the ethereal echo that gave their debut an appealing floating quality. Without this dreaminess, the Cranberries are merely pretty, but unlike the turgidly ambitious Bury the Hatchet and Wake Up and Smell the Coffee – or on Dolores O'Riordan's pair of perfectly fine solo albums – Roses has definition and momentum, momentum that doesn't derive from artificially enhanced electric guitars, either.

While 1995's Relish proved Joan Osborne was a smart and idiosyncratic lyricist with a big, strong and soulful voice, the unexpected success of the album (and the single "One Of Us") proved to be as much of a burden as a blessing. Touring kept Osborne out on the road for the next few years, and troubles with her record company prevented her follow-up, Righteous Love, from arriving in stores until 2000, after which it died quickly on the vine (though the album deserved a better fate). As Osborne was blocking out plans for her next album in the fall of 2001, the terrorist attacks of September 11 upended her musical priorities, and for How Sweet It Is, Osborne has indulged herself in the musical equivalent of comfort food by cutting covers of a dozen classic soul and R&B tunes from the 1960s and '70s, with the exception of three reworked rock numbers (Dave Mason's "Only You Know and I Know," the Band's "The Weight," and Jimi Hendrix's "Axis: Bold As Love").