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

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.

Frankie Rose and the Outs have made a record that put her old band the Vivian Girls to shame, and instead of proving to be bandwagon jumpers, they instead made a record other girl pop bands can emulate and someday hope to equal.

The press pumps up the fact that Shontelle is Barbadian, just like Rihanna, but her functional dance-pop material and temperate ballads could be delivered by any moderately talented vocalist from the Midwest.

Boasting a mere seven songs, Brooklyn-based singer/songwriter Sharon Van Etten's sophomore effort hardly lives up to the lofty promise of its name, but where Epic fails to deliver in size, it more than makes up for in sound.

While Root for Ruin isn't the creative reawakening that Let's Stay Friends was, it might be the band's tightest and most polished album yet.

Cuomo doesn't suppress his emotion; he just prefers sentiment, but what he loves most of all is a pure pop song and Hurley offers up its fair share.

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.

From Flowers' five-dollar words to the operatic bombast, every little moment of Flamingo carries weight, which means every moment cancels out the one that came before: it's all sequined stage costumes shimmering under blaring lights.

Lisbon, like the rest of their music, is meant to be savored, the fullness of its songs allowed to develop over many listens.

It's as a joyous a record as you'll ever hear, a testament that the power of music lies not in its writing but in its performance.

The problem is, the subdued rhythms, riffs, and raps of A Thousand Suns wind up monochromatic, an impression not erased by the brief bridges between songs, sampled speeches, and easy segues, every element retaining moodiness without offering distinction.

If it didn't capture the fun of '80s pop, it just wouldn't be Chromeo. And for their third album, Pee Thug and Dave One are as campy and faithful to their roots as humanly (and robotically) possible.

While it's easy to see why some listeners may prefer the completely unhinged sounds of Grinderman's debut, this set, with its expansive sonics and studied bombast, is still full of so much adrenaline, nastiness, and rock & roll sleaze that it stands in its own league and kicks serious ass.

Though it's a little long and a couple songs veer toward filler, it's a return to form for of Montreal and more than justifies the hype and attention their live show has garnered.

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.

They get a little too close to trip-hop for their own good on a few songs, and their widescreen drama is missed occasionally, but Penny Sparkle is still another beautiful reinvention for Blonde Redhead.

They may not be the hippest band around in 2010 but they sound as fresh and important as they did in 1990, 1995, or 2001, and Majesty Shredding is the kind of album that'll make you glad to be a fan of indie rock.

Given its wonderfully crafted and performed material and stellar production, it is the country album of 2010.

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

It's recognizably the Charlatans--it's hard to disguise Tim Burgess's laconic drawl or the light psychedelic pull of his melodies--but they're unexpectedly abandoning their dad-rock handbook and taking risks, winding with their freshest, best album since they traded the Happy Mondays for the Rolling Stones.

Although this is hardly Underworld at their finest, the duo's songwriting fits the mainstream productions and results in a solid dance album for the 2010s--music for aging-raver activities like driving cars, pushing swings, or jogging on treadmills.

Harlem River Blues is utterly balanced, skillfully crafted, and exquisitely written and produced. Earle proves that he is a force to be reckoned with; in these grooves he embodies the history, mystery, and promise of American roots music.

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 a major step forward and for the adventurous hip-hop fan, it could very well be appropriately titled.

Gonzales isn't an innovative dance producer, and there's not much pop music in play here either, making Ivory Tower a rather run-of-the-mill soundtrack--one of the many that can't be separated from their films.

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.

Bachmann's contributions play a back-seat role to those by Taylor and Fink, who sound as convincing after a seven-year break as they did during Azure Ray's heyday.

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.

The result is part retro, part avant-garde, and part polyrhythmic elevator music, which is to say it sounds wholly Dungen.

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.

This is one heavy, messy, dynamite album--one that could take a decade to be fully processed.

The album's back half doesn't boast an outlandish moment like "I Invented Sex," either, but it is the strongest, most varied side of a Trey Songz album, just about flawless. It smoothly shifts through several moods.

Ultimately, Mirror is another Lloyd triumph. It may not shake the rafters with its kinetics, but it does dazzle with the utterly symbiotic interplay between leader and sidemen.

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.

Two thirds of the way through the Body Talk project, it's clear that this experiment is reaping rich rewards for Robyn and her listeners.

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.

Despite lushly detailed arrangements, Bareilles never pushes this distinctly commercial gift too hard, letting the songs flow easily and this gentleness is almost as appealing as those classically constructed melodies, tunes so softly insistent they could conceivably appear on adult contemporary charts anytime from 1971 to 2010.

The tempos on Reckless are more varied than those on their self-titled debut, but even the slower tracks pack the big emotional punch that bluegrass fans love, the kind of feeling that used to make country music dangerous.

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.

Most of the album stays sludgy though, and Seeing Eye Dog tends to drag more than it hits.

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.

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.

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.

It's always great to see a band that's able to tweak its sound without watering it down, and that's exactly what Stone Sour have accomplished here, showing that it's possible for hard rock bands to make their sound bigger without necessarily making it blunter.

Fin Eaves' mix doesn't have anything in it you haven't heard before, but you've never heard the elements put together like this before, either. It's a powerful, massively textured thing whose heavily treated grooves (yes, grooves) are drenched in ambiguous, deeply poetic beauty.

Our Cubehouse Still Rocks has no shortage of guitar firepower, and with tough six-string snarl dominating much of the album, these 16 songs have more than enough rock & roll muscle to give shape and power to Pollard's pop-flavored melodies.

What really sets Disturbed apart from other 21st century metal acts is their ability to consistently re-package and resell their sound in a way that avoids redundancy.

Its casualness sometimes surfaces in its tossed-off jokes or sing-song melodies, but that only underscores that Jenny & Johnny are having a good time -- and it's a good time that's easy to share even if one of the hosts doesn't quite hold up his own end of the bargain.

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.

Like most live albums, Dream Attic is more about the playing than the material, which is a bit different from the way a new Richard Thompson set works, but when it captures a band this good playing with this authority, that's hardly anything to fret about.

Bingham has delivered a set of songs that mirrors our uncertain times in a musical language that doesn't unduly distort or romanticise them.

Something for the Rest of Us is an album to play on the drive home.

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.

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.

It's a macho, muscular attack that fits the braggadocio of the title yet it's hard not to shake that this alt-metal grind feels like a forewarning of a Y2K annihilation, not something suited for a decade into the new millennium.

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

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.

If you were figuring that the Murderdolls were going to expand musically upon what they laid down on their debut album, Women and Children Last will prove your assumption wrong--they're sticking as close to their original vision as possible.

Strange Weather may get some static for not being groundbreaking or risk taking but that's okay. It's just !!! at their best and that's good enough.

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.

Rivers isn't as immediate as either Heartcore or The Snake, but fans should find it satisfying once they've had time to let it soak into their ears, brains and hearts. Rivers isn't as immediate as either Heartcore or The Snake, but fans should find it satisfying once they've had time to let it soak into their ears, brains and hearts.

The album itself is almost incidental to the self-styled fantasy that Katy Perry sells with this entire project.

Hawk isn't as startling [as Ballad of the Broken Seas], but it's encouraging to know that the magic between Campbell and Lanegan not only hasn't worn off, it's manifesting itself in new and compelling ways.

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.

For the most part, Versus falls in line with its parent release's mix of detached hedonism and pleading heartache.

The Orchard doesn't go down as easily as The Rhumb Line did, even though it still has some satisfying moments.

With an all-star cast like this, it's not surprising that Cloak and Cipher is beautifully played and layered. However, too often it feels like the album's overall sound comes at the price of distinctive songs.

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.

The guys still place more emphasis on mood than movement, but they're learning how to create atmospheres without resorting to stoner rock, which makes Sugar a step in the right direction.

While nothing can capture the true feeling of being flattened by one of Mogwai's shows except attending one, Special Moves is still a great live document.

Memphis is the most thrilling debut album since the Apples in Stereo's Fun Trick Noisemaker and should be embraced by anyone who likes pop music that sounds small but thinks big. These kids truly have some magic in them.

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.

The Reason Why is mature, exquisitely crafted, and radio friendly; it ups the ante for contemporary country in songwriting, performance, and production (the latter by stripping away excess). It's as near to a perfectly balanced recording as one will find in the genre.

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.

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.

Grass Widow set the mood masterfully and never breaks it. Past Lives may be a short album that seems slight on first listen but as you play it again and again, it sinks in deeply and magically.

With a slow, minimal style similar to producer Bangladesh, the Pac''s Young L handles most of the production on the album, delivering beats that favor impact over density.

This idealism, along with the music's sheer density and strangeness, will fascinate some--but while While Surfing the Void's admirable boldness is hard to dismiss, it's also not especially easy to like. Ultimately, it's a difficult album on many levels.

As per usual, the record is immaculately crafted, but a bit "proggy," which could serve to disappoint listeners who have been waiting patiently for the artist to return to the engaging, patchwork pop/rock of 2005's Illinoise. Fans of the quirky, less immediate moments from that album will find a great deal to love on this precursor to October's full length Age of Adz.

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

This debut only strengthens Lissie's potential to become one of folk music's newest sirens.

David Gray doesn't really purport to be anything other than a contemporary folk-pop singer, and Foundling finds him doing what he does best.

While fans of Darker My Love's earlier albums may be a bit put off by this sudden sea change, Alive as You Are marks a pleasant sonic shift for the band, offering anyone willing to listen a love letter to San Francisco's psych-pop past and the sounds of the paisley underground.

That Black City is Dear's most creative and individual album is not, however, up for debate.

Nearly everything else here is loving, sincere, and worthy of hearing by fans of the Beach Boys or Broadway.

As a record in 2010, the ten songs are an unapologetic throwback, not quite distinctive enough to suggest that a reevaluation of the band is in order, but certainly pleasing for fans -- and even if you're not a fan, it's hard not to be a little pleased that this forgotten chapter in the band's history has been published.

No Better Than This proves that good songs need very little to communicate instructive narratives and complex emotions, and that primitive recording methods are still sometimes the best ones.

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.

God Willin' & the Creek Don't Rise is a mixed bag. There's fine stuff here to be sure, but as a whole, it feels unbalanced; too much of one sound makes it drag a bit. Given that this is his debut as a producer, it's not unexpected; but after his previous trio of fine recordings, this one feels anticlimactic.

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.