By now, you should know what to expect from Hawksley Workman. Meat is his eleventh full-length in about as many years, the latest in a string of similarly average singer-songwriter alt-rock records. Workman hasn’t really put out anything less than a middling-at-best album, but at the same time, he’s never produced much that is truly great. It’s a wonder that without a particular career-defining release, he’s managed to sustain such a successful career for so long. True to form, Meat toes the line more than anything, not really offering up anything that will surprise anyone who’s heard the man over the last ten years. Warbling piano-ballads? Choppy drum and bass-driven rhythms? Self-loathing, occasionally-awkward lyrics? All in abundance here. (Especially that last one—expect to hear plenty of bizarre lines, including “Cry my little chocolate mouth/The sun will come out/To seek a smile.” Seriously.) It’s hard to call Meat a disappointment, because it’s exactly in line with everything that Workman has ever done. He’s found his audience, and he knows how to deliver what they want. After ten years, he doesn’t ask more out of them, or of himself, opting to remain well within his comfort zone. (Isadora, www.hawksleyworkman.com) Kevan Hannah