CD reviews 7/19

In a stroke of excellent timing, Shelton's new album arrives on the heels of the success of NBC's "The Voice," on which he serves as a musician coach-judge. On the show, he proved himself likable, funny, sharp, and able to perform in several styles. If only Shelton was delivering a better product to all those potential new fans.

This amiable set of pop-country hits all the expected buttons. There is the good-natured jaunt of single "Honey Bee," the jokey drinking song "Get Some," and the tailor-made wedding ballad "God Gave Me You." But for all its midtempo geniality and good humor (at one point Shelton offers not only to hold doors and purses for his loved one but also pick up "feminine products" for her) the album fails to dazzle. Shelton continues to shine as a singer, especially on the heartfelt "I'm Sorry" and the title track, a tender duet with wife Miranda Lambert.

Like the two nearly identical albums that preceded it, "All of You" puts a significant amount of force into the illusion of effortlessness; its scrim of summer-fun abandon obscures a stage busy with high-level record-making, with the help of Ryan Tedder of OneRepublic and others.

When Caillat and her partners are at their best on "All of You" -- as in the limpid "I Do," one of several songs that the singer says documents her ongoing relationship with her guitarist -- you buy the hocus-pocus without regret. When they aren't, the problem isn't that you suddenly see what's supposed to remain out of view; rather, it's that a song as precisely tooled as the reggae-lite "Think Good Thoughts" ends up glancing off your consciousness before it can make an impact.

About the only way Incubus could make a more dramatic shift than it does here would be if lead singer Brandon Boyd donned a tuxedo and fronted an orchestra. After a five-year recording hiatus, Boyd calls this new disc a "love letter to the world," and it's just as sappy as that implies: This isn't what Incubus fans expect. It probably isn't even what they like. Perhaps Boyd and company feel too old for the agitated, funky alt-rock that drove them to success, or maybe they're just feeling more centered than ever, their restraint underscoring their confidence.

Although the album feels more anonymous, more like timeless adult-contemporary fare, there's an inviting grace and serenity here in this passive brew of monochromatic near-ballads. But it doesn't work in the long run, the incessant serenity beckoning listeners to somnolence.