Like the title suggests, Warm Slime is gooey but curiously inviting stuff, and sinking into it might not be the safest way to pass the time, but it's a genuinely pleasurable experience.

Scissor Sisters are record fans from way back, so they structure nearly every element of Night Work to relive the heady days of AOR (aka album-oriented rock).

It may be flawed and the rapper's attitude is sometimes one step ahead of his output, but he hasn't sounded this unfiltered and proud since The Marshall Mathers LP.

This is a welcome return for Miller, and a must for modern electric blues fans.

It's lively and fun, and it's Sting's most satisfying record in a long time.

Archive 2003-2006 is well worth a listen for Department of Eagles and Grizzly Bear fans, especially those intrigued by how albums get made--or don't get made, as the case may be.

Serotonin may offer less immediate pleasures than Twenty One, but it promises to reward repeated listening.

This is the sound of seasoned veterans still finding new ways to play old favorites.

Trendy South African rhythms and austere strings spin a web around Davidson's poetic lyrics, and in this intricate, introspective setting, their talent becomes very clear.

Not everything here works, not by a long shot, but the overall impression is that Liz Phair has finally reconnected with the spirit of Girlysound--which, contrary to popular opinion, wasn't all serious--and is on her way to once again being a compelling artist unafraid to take risks.

It's not as if any of this breaks new stylistic ground (in fact, it bears no small resemblance to his pals and sometimes collaborators Thee Oh Sees), but it sure sounds like Segall is having fun, and it brings some additional heat and spice to his rich brew of sound.

As with most of The House, songs like the folk-inflected opener "I'd Love to Kill You," the Eastern-tinged "The Flood," and the yearning and pretty "Red Balloons," take time to build and grab you slowly with deft, biting lyrics and Melua's lilting, burnished vocals.

The album doesn't quite knit together seamlessly, but that doesn't mean there isn't plenty of interesting stuff here. If anything, Where The Messengers Are is an easily measurable improvement over their debut.

Back with the 808 boom, the stone-cold rhymes, and that sturdy, warrior soul, Bun B is officially crowned consistent with his third solo effort, the satisfying Trill O.G.

Weareallgoingtoburninhellmegamixxx3 is a logical progression from his hectic early work as genres like dubstep and grime have since appeared to increase the pressure. Extended runs of uptempo numbers are something new for the man, and the album refuses to chill until it takes a breather on track six

This feeling of isolation envelops the bulk of Apparitions. It's a psychedelic, claustrophobic mush of layered synthesizers, organs, drum pads, and breezy voices reflecting against the walls of wide-open corridors; evocative of the unsettling feeling of being completely alone in a very big space, a la David Bowman or Sam Bell.

In sum, this the most representative outing from Grace Potter & the Nocturnals to date, and displays, however slickly, a heady quotient of strut, crackle, and groove.

As ridiculously high as his [Quinn Walker's] voice may be, and even though it may take several spins to become acclimated to it, the melodies are sharp and enticing.

We Walk This Road is a consistently surprising tour de force that moves easily through rock, blues, R&B, gospel, and more, sometimes bringing them all together at the same time.

Fantasia doesn't invest the songs with subtle emotion so much as she indulges in balls-out emotional overdrive, overloading these simple songs with histrionics that are compelling in the short term and even if they're exhausting over the long haul these full-throttle pyrotechnics make Back to Me her most interesting album.

Whether it works or not depends on whether you're in the love him or the hate him camp, but no compromise is just what his fans signed up for in the first place. The Darkside, Vol. 1 is a mean beast of an album that will surely make Joe's army re-enlist for Vol. 2.

The better surprise is his heavy dose of talent that doesn't necessarily dazzle but does charm, and is deep enough to keep things interesting for a whole album.

The Final Frontier still brings Iron Maiden closer to their aesthetic legacy and triumphant year 2000 rebirth than its two predecessors.

In the end, a necessary acquisition for fans or an easy way for newcomers to judge whether they are wacky enough to join the Major's cyberpunky reggae party.

Rose's own songwriting gifts are on ample display throughout Own Side Now, with lyrics that show a knack for poetic turns and artful understatement in equal measure -- a combination too seldom found in young songwriters' work -- and humble but hummable melodies that make the most of her grounding in both alt-country and pop.

Cowboy's Back in Town reveals that this singer can do one thing well; but he does it really well -- and that's offer tough, utterly masculine, contemporary country-rock -- check the closer "Whoop a Man's Ass" -- convincingly.

The man is full of contradictions and lyrics that demand deciphering, so Str8 Killa becomes an excellent entry point, maybe by default and maybe by design. Either way, it's a necessary purchase for gangsta rap fans and a gateway drug that will send you straight to the mixtape underground.

While some of this album feels a bit rushed at times, as a whole Tomorrow Morning is a welcome contrast to the darkness of its predecessors, and a deft summertime pop record. Lord knows, a little optimism in these strange times is welcome--even if it comes from an unlikely source.

Sometimes, this careful approach serves as a detriment to the bandmembers, who'd do well to crank up their amplifiers once in a while and see what their pop sensibilities sound like at high volume. On the other hand, Let It Sway is the sound of a band doing what it does best, and it's nice to hear SSLYBY get their groove back.

Throughout all this--both the old ways and new directions--the ever-present weak link would have to be Cronise's emotionally deadpan vocals, but, as was the case with earlier Sword albums, they ultimately don't matter as much as the group's pulverizing twin guitar attack.

Overall, though, this is an enjoyable, danceable working holiday from Sitek, one that shows aspects of his music that bode well for his many other projects.

It's also nice to hear vocals like Carey's which gently suggest a Brian Wilson sense of harmonizing instead of fully pushing the point--refreshing given so many of Carey's compatriots in indie-leaning rock music.

Not as cohesive as The Salvation Blues, Many Colored Kites is still a worthy and brave album that finds Mark Olson continuing to find new ways of sharing what life has taught him through his music.

It's fairly inoffensive rock, but the music and melodies are remarkably accomplished, especially for an early outing.

Red Velvet Car has something of a meditative mood -- the punchy Townshend power chords are used as color, not fuel -- triggered somewhat by a preponderance of textured, acoustic-laden arrangements and miniature epics, all elements that hearken back to Heart's golden age yet wind up feeling right in line with their vibe in 2010.

Ultimately, Interpol isn't a statement of purpose as much as it is the end of an era for the band: With Dengler gone and back on their original label, they have the ability, and perhaps necessity, to go in any direction they choose.

Though they should've rocked out a couple times for some variation, Personal Life is a good example of a band growing up without growing old.

With each track designed as a showcase for the featured guest, Mean Old Man winds up playing a little like a collection of moments but it's hard to complain when the moments prove that you can still be vigorous and vital at the age of 74.

He can clearly make a piano do just about anything he wants it to, and Solo is a project that puts the thought that went into its construction right up in your face, but it's never breathtaking in the way a truly great solo piano performance can be.

Sometimes being bad can be more fun than being good, and on Phosphene Dream The Black Angels hit that sweet spot more often than not.

BM have upped their ante with Wilderness Heart by concentrating more on excellent songwriting and close-cornered arranging than sprawling heavy rock bacchanalia.

Sex with an X is proof that Kelly and McKee were right to get back together, and while they don't pick up exactly where they left off, it's close enough to make their fans, both old and new, ecstatic.

You Are Not Alone is a solid outing that somehow amazingly manages to be both secular and sacred at once, and there is a stripped-down timelessness to it.

With the wall of static dialed back a notch, the songs breathe more, allowing for Welchez and Rowell to construct some of their most immediate material.

Minotaur is as essential as anything else the band has released and whether as part of Bonfires or on its own, the record stands as a welcome addition to their legacy as one of the great indie pop bands of their era.

Fields is intriguing in a low-key way that grows with repeated listening and will make Gonzalez fans into Junip fans.

While they might miss some of the drive that the band brought to the table in their earlier work, the depth of slower and more spacious songs like "Take Me (As You Found Me)" should ultimately prove more rewarding in the long run.

The six-song Heretofore breaks down fairly neatly into a clutch of songs where the more unsettled side of the band's work exists as shading to fairly formal compositions and one big song where that overtly exploratory side is front and center.

This album's often a bracing, propulsive listen, the hardest rock Yorn has ever recorded, even if it does suggest Yorn is like tofu, adapting the characteristics of whatever spices he's paired with.

Losing Sleep is a heartwarming tribute to Collins and a statement that, although he's still on the mend, he's still got a lot more to give.

As an experimental piece of electronic music, Old Punch Card is an engaging and soothing album that will reward the open-minded and baffle anyone who expected the album to carry on in vein of his previous, more Sea and Cake-like efforts.

Ultimately, Mixed Race, with its simmering tension, is a worthy follow-up to Knowle West Boy, and a fine entry in Tricky's catalog overall.

Each EP has a handful of standout songs--the melodic thrust of "Make for This City" on Morning, the escalating drama of "Porcupine" on Night--but what lingers is James' controlled mastery of mood, how the band never pushes too hard yet never settles over the course of this quietly satisfying set.

Fidelity! is effective, suggesting that Jones has an appeal somewhere between Glen Hansard and Jeff Tweedy, an impeccably messily manicured roots troubadour who works hard to make everything look easy. He's ingratiating, but his charm is strengthened by Hynde's reaction to him.

This is too short and scattered to put on his top shelf, but it comes awfully close, which is downright astonishing considering the circumstances.

The strength of the album is that it doesn't sound like it was written by a bunch of Nashville pros--its mellow vibes and occasional soft romantic touch feel true to Currington.

A study in how to be settled without settling, this album is a very welcome return.

Pop Negro is just as impressive as the debut was. It's just that the indie landscape has shifted so much over that time span that someone blending all sorts of African, Latin, dance, and pop elements and influences into a whirling, glittery disco ball of sound isn't exactly enough to stop the presses.

If Everything Under the Sun often seems a bit candy coated, it's a high grade of confectionary that they serve, and most folks who get a taste of this album are likely to come back for more.

These largely acoustic songs, occasionally embellished with electronics and other effects, are geared for a quiet evening spent alone. Subtle, touching albums like this should be made more often, preferably by Selway and his associates here.

The best track on 7th Symphony is "2010," which features a guest performance by Slayer drummer Dave Lombardo, who drives the music ferociously, a speeding train straight into hell. But too often, using cellos to play metal riffs (as on "Bring Them to Light," which features vocalist Joseph Duplantier of French avant-metallers Gojira) just winds up making the album sound like "A String Tribute To [Insert Metal Band Here]," and not in the cool, rethinking-the-material way that earlier Apocalyptica releases did.

Sinners & Saints is the most confident, self-assured, and consistent recording Malo's done, and it showcases his own playing and songwriting at an entirely new level of skill.

Camu Tao's thoughts and structures are more fully fleshed out, more songs than just ideas and sketches, and here, what he was and what he could do, and could have done, seem so much more fully whole.

The 16 songs sequentially chronicle an astronaut's journey from liftoff to landing, and Minowa seems as on top of his game as ever as he deals out uplifting lines like "All our anxieties are in a box I mailed to Pluto" over imaginative soundscapes.

Anyone who bought the limited edition of MM..Food? has the video proof, as much of this album is an audio rip of that package's bonus DVD. Redundancy aside, this is a fantastic show fans won't mind revisiting.

To sum it all up succinctly, there is no shortage of psychedelic jams to be found throughout Quest for Fire's Lights from Paradise.

Covers aside, this is the most personal music of Sadier's career, and a promising glimpse of what she can do on her own.

On Post Electric Blues, they're a worldly pop/rock band, showing off their Scottish roots on the Celtic numbers and channeling the American heartland.

The Tallest Man on Earth, keeps it sparse with a summertime EP of fingerpicked acoustic guitar and vocals, written on the road just after the release of The Wild Hunt.

This one is for those who would still love The State vs. Radric Davis even if the breakthrough hits "Lemonade" and "Wasted" weren't included.

While some of the tracks sound like rough sketches that were simply given a bit more shading, most of Senior captivates as a full-length experience.

Though It's What I'm Thinking, Pt. 1 finds Badly Drawn Boy still getting back on his feet, it has enough encouraging moments for fans to stick around until he hits his full stride.

While The Ghost Who Walks occasionally feels a little long and scattered, it's still a beautifully made album that earns Elson a place among moody songstresses such as Neko Case, Amanda Palmer, Hope Sandoval, and Paula Frazer.

The coolest thing about this mess of orgiastic sound is that it's totally possible to envision it being played live; it feels present, inside your skin, under your muscles, and inside your veins. Shadow Temple is physical music that evokes the spirit world; it rocks, but it soars too; creating a soundtrack for some kind of apocalypse.

Despite their changes, PVT remain as hard to pin down as ever, and Church with No Magic is admirable, if not exactly embraceable.

To say the record isn't "challenging" is an understatement, especially when looking at his early work, but it's easy to overlook how skillfully the man crafts positive music that's sunshine, and yet not sugary.

Musically, Kasher is all over the place, laying down enough staccato horn sections, sweeping strings, and quirky time signatures to give Sufjan Stevens a run for his money. What the Game of Monogamy occasionally lacks in hooks, it more than makes up for in style.

All Birds Say isn't concerned with aping anyone else's sound, though, and it wields the sort of casual confidence that's rarely heard on a sideman's solo project. If Carl Broemel ever decides to quit his day job, he's got a promising future here.

Ultimately, Beautiful Dreamers is a wonderfully balanced trio exercise.

There is a Hell finds Bring Me the Horizon at the top of their game, and its lack of over indulgent production makes it an album that'll not only please fans of the band, but may surprise fans of bands like Converge who are interested in seeing what the kids are up to these days.

Surely, it's a revival for Leon Russell, who has spent decades in the wilderness, but it's not a stretch to say The Union revitalizes Elton John just as much as it does his idol: he hasn't sounded this soulful in years.

The guitar riffs are appropriately fuzzy but a tad messy; the harmonies are well-placed but imperfect. Stoltz is a vintage enthusiast, but he's no copycat, and To Dreamers' best quality is his ability to reinterpret those sounds for an audience weaned on lo-fi albums.

Two minor complaints aside, For the Ghosts Within succeeds as both collaboration and an aural portrait of what a complete standards recording by Wyatt could offer.

While Blue Giant has the freshness and enthusiasm of a debut album, it also boasts the artistry and intelligence of a band with years of experience, and this music brings forth the joy of the best of both worlds.

Kid Cudi's Man on the Moon II was released in a year where rap album sequels were common, but unlike most of the competition, this sequel has a very strong link to its predecessor.

The quietest moments tend to be as tense as the loudest, and the contrasts -- lambent, sparsely played guitar offset by skittering and rattling cymbals and transitory electronic thrums, for instance -- are deeply affecting with close listening.

A funhouse mirror of an album, Mini Mansions is a few shades lighter than Rekords Rekords' usual output, but it's still twisted and catchy enough to win over those more familiar with Shuman's day job.

Like the album's namesake, The Fire starts with a small spark that quickly builds itself into an emotional blaze that burns steadily across all 11 tracks, taking the listener on an exceptional musical ride.

It's an unhurried, affectionate tribute, the News riding grooves that are considerably cleaner than the classic Stax sides they love so much, but they nevertheless wind up with a warm, soulful vibe.

The concentration on writing and arrangement is disciplined, with a strong set of dynamics, a terrific mix, and great production, and of course the lavish package lives up to the band's reputation as well.

While producer Dave Cobb's arrangements don't self-consciously re-create every element of the musical eras the sisters dig into, they don't add any superfluous modernizations either, keeping the sonic framework just as timeless-sounding as the Secret Sisters' style itself.

As Darnielle's first release on his new label, Merge, opening a new chapter in his career, Undercard may not be a total knockout, but it's an eminently worthy diversion from (or preface to) the main event.

Taken as pieces, these songs are prime 2000s indie rock; added together they make Play It Strange a satisfying step forward for the band.

Like their Chicago contemporaries the Handsome Family, Cotton Jones feels a kinship to the country-folk tradition, but is not bound to it, and with each new collection of songs, they add another couple of lines to the genre's weathered face.

Not Music is all over the place in the best possible way, and fans who love Stereolab's gracefully intellectual side will especially appreciate it.

The Constant has enough strong moments to make it a promising debut from a group with plenty of confidence, personality and potential.

The big difference on this two-disc set, however, is the occasional, recognizable drum pattern, mostly snare strikes or cymbal crashes, that give the rest of the music a wider dynamic range.

Helpfully rounds up 18 of these guest appearances, including a cut by the Jones-fronted country cabaret outfit the Little Willies, and what impresses is the range of collaborators and the consistency of the music.