It may not have the sugar rush immediacy of the Strokes, and at times it's downright indulgent, but Phrazes for the Young shows that Casablancas has more than enough ideas for several albums on his own and with his band--and perhaps most importantly, he sounds more enthused about making music on it than he has since "Is This It."

Ultimately, it's Weezer's deft mixing of immediately hummable rock with lyrics that reveal Cuomo's own melancholy gaze on the pop landscape that makes Raditude a passionate surrender to growing up and a throw-your-arms-up-and-scream ride down the other side of the mid-life roller coaster.

Carrie takes a much stronger presence as a writer here, co-authoring seven of the 13 songs, and she's attracted to hookless showstoppers designed to showcase her powerful voice, all glory notes with no glory. When she sticks to tunes written solely by the professionals, Play On does have some slick pleasures.

Together, usually accompanied by little more than acoustic guitar and piano, they create emotionally rich musical miniatures that only ever take up as much room--both musically and lyrically--as they need.

Nothing here is quite an embarrassment, but compared to his other albums of this nature, including the muddled World of Morrissey, there's a distinct lack of humor and hooks, or anything else memorable.

Amerie returns with In Love & War, an album that is much more creative than its title indicates while also playing out a bit like Because I Love It redux.

Hints of this could be heard on the live comp From the Muddy Banks of the Wishkah, but this is a complete document of Nirvana in full flight and one of the greatest live rock & roll albums ever.

Not all Glee members are created equal--Cory Monteith (the show's hunky football captain) and Dianna Agron (the alternately caustic and vulnerable head cheerleader) can't sing nearly as well as their co-stars--but this soundtrack has enough star power to keep things trucking along, especially when powerhouse alto Lea Michele takes the wheel.

The first listen or two to World Painted Blood might be a bit confusing for the seasoned Slayer fan, but that changes quickly, and the sound of those drums blasting in one's head will become a more than welcome presence in the mix.

That Nirvana sound forceful isn't a surprise, but they also sound surprisingly tight--a little bit looser than they would sound within a year, but they're clearly marshaling their forces, gaining strength and skill.

This is an impulsive album, an odd piece of work that manages to be puzzling without alienating the listener.

Love Comes Close is a strong debut not just because Cold Cave embraces their darkness so fully, but because they find so many shades within it.

Invisible Girl is no-frills rhythm & blues and rock & roll done right, and the King Khan and BBQ Show get on the good foot with a mixture of sincerity and wailing abandon most of their contemporaries can't match.

Jones' faith in her own creative judgment is well-founded, and this is a work whose modest scale belies its emotional strength.

Introducing is strong enough to qualify Brilliant Colors as one of those bands to keep an eye on.

Chances are, Extended Vacation won't rope in fans of Gray's and Kotche's respective bands Wilco and Gastr del Sol, since it's a far cry from alt-country or math rock, but those looking for something that's avant-garde but fairly easy to digest might find this minimalist mood piece strangely soothing.

Flashmob is some of Vitalic's most artful, even subtle work. It may or may not be as profoundly influential as "OK Cowboy," but it's just as engaging and even more cohesive.

All the unearthed Stones material is strong--particularly the pair of acoustic numbers, "Prodigal Son" and "You Gotta Move"--but in comparison to what made it onto the LP, they do sound like outtakes (to be fair, the LP did have some minor overdubs whereas these five cuts seem to be unadorned with additions), and they're also overshadowed by the absolutely terrific opening sets.

Themes may be revisited, but Escape 2 Mars stills comes across as fresh and meaningful and fun.

Greatest Hits isn't arranged chronologically, which isn't a detriment; if anything, skipping through the years emphasizes just how consistent the Foos have been, always delivering oversized rock & roll where the hooks are as big as the guitars.

It's striking stuff--definitely not easy listening, but well worth the effort, even if it feels like a slightly lopsided affair, with the final four tracks overshadowed by one terrifically effective and truly inventive epic.

Albums like this pretty much ask you right away to either turn it up or throw it out, and there's no denying the polarizing nature of D.I.Y. indie rock, but Jookabox is consistently visceral, darkly funny, and wholly unpredictable enough to warrant more than a cursory spin around the neighborhood.

There's something quietly but persistently unique about the duo's work that suggests its own realm, quirky and wry but not simply a showcase for lyrical wit, gently swinging and twangy without losing a sense of calm hush.

Islands is by no means a bad record. It's pleasant but it's unnecessary, and in an era of so many bands and so many releases, that's just not good enough.

Banhart's persona emerges intact despite the mainstream sound, however, and What Will We Be becomes a pleasantly fresh album to follow the ponderous, sprawling "Smokey Rolls Down Thunder Canyon."

Strict Joy is a joy from start to finish, as few bands manage to mix intimacy and sweeping songcraft with such finesse.

It's the contrast between their writing styles and voices, slight as they may be, that works to make Sainthood another rich and rewarding album.

Some of McKnight's devoted fanbase will find the album rather fascinating since it's a change of pace, more a collection of loose sketches than a highly polished set.

A tighter, cleaner band than the scruffy renegades of the '80s, but still the same band, which is evident here in ways it never was on the perfectly fine R.E.M. Live. That was a production. This is rock & roll.

Sometimes needlessly complex and, at its worst, goofy for the sake of being goofy--proper boots-in-a-dryer bizniz with shrill flotsam swirling about--these tracks can be as off-putting as they are exhilarating.

This is still insanely large-sounding music, and is heavy in the extreme, but its new tenets give listeners more to hold on--and perhaps dream on--than simply low-tuned, ponderous riffing.

If this is not the most live-sounding dance album made with synthetic instrumentation, it must be pretty close.

Not so much a soundtrack to a film that was never made as it is music that demands images to accompany it, this is a welcome return after the four years of silence that followed Tender Buttons.

Fans hungry for SM material won't mind at all, since after three years a redundant track beats no track, and while all of it seems familiar, the crew deliver the material with new life, suggesting they're mad happy to be back on the grind.

Cosmic Egg [is] a mature sophomore effort, particularly if it's just judged on all the sonic textures Wolfmorther serves up, but as the album closes with a series of meandering mysticism it's hard not to miss Stockdale's previous reliance on nasty repetitive riffs.

It's all pleasing enough, flowing better than the American Songbook albums, and not feeling as karaoke as the Rock album, but it's so comfortable, so easygoing, it verges on the forgettable.

This kind of "redo-the-hits" project--very common from veteran artists in the 21st century--is almost always a mixed bag, and Never Been Gone is no exception.

It's an experience, to say the least. At the same time, The Great Misdirect is the type of overblown record that asks the question, "Is there such thing as being too ambitious?"

While Midnight Soul Serenade may not be the best Heavy Trash album (their debut takes that honor), it's still some of the best rock & roll around. Anywhere, anytime.

It's a holiday album for people who have never wanted to hear a holiday album, let alone own one.

The Best of the Black President is simply a stellar collection that bests any two-disc collection out there as it represents the continued evolution of Fela Kuti's music from the 1960s through the 1990s.

There are some solid breakdowns to sink your teeth into, and the choruses are still huge and anthemic, but the rest might be a little too watered down for serious metalcore devotees.

A weird psychedelic mindset is woven through everything, and even though everything constantly seems on the verge of combustion, the songs on Fits always manage to hold together and work themselves out with exciting, engaging results.

While the comparisons were apt at the time, 'Kiss with a Fist' turned out to be a red herring in the wake of the release of Lungs, one of the most musically mature and emotionally mesmerizing albums of 2009.

At times, Chapman seems in danger of being too earnest or letting his ambitions get the better of him, but Turning the Mind ends up being a significant step forward for Maps' music.

A more hypnotic and lulling ride overall, Tarot Sport may lack some of "Street Horrrsing's" pure visceral impact, but it's just as satisfying on its own terms, as well as an impressive step forward for Fuck Buttons.

These songs are nearly as wide-ranging and comprehensive as an actual atlas, but Cox keeps charting new territory.

It's a Business Doing Pleasure with You bristles with Kroeger's barely veiled, unwitting hostility, something that the big-hearted McGraw doesn't wear well--not in the least, because it sounds like a boneheaded swipe at his jetsetting wife Faith Hill--and it's something he wisely side-steps on the rest of the record, choosing to mine a sentimental, meditative vein, musing on major changes in his life and wondering what will happen after he's gone.

Adding drums might have spoiled the introspective and feather-light feel of the record. Anyone who's been on their bandwagon all along will be glad of that, as they'll rejoice that Declaration of Dependence turns out to be another autumnal treasure from the Kings.

This darker, heavier tone makes the majority of Kill less of a party than "Fire" or "I Shall Exterminate Everything Around Me That Restricts Me from Being the Master," but splendidly, Dance Commander rears his head to make demands like "Shake that tambourine/Shake that shaking machine!" in 'Egyptian Cowboy' and encourages mass consumption in the splendid 'Body Shot,' which devolves from a grunge-disco jam into a wonderful, dubbed-out frenzy.

As lyrical a musician as he is, without his commanding use of language (the song cycle is entirely instrumental), the BQE loses some momentum near the end, but by then it's become clear that, as is the case with all of his projects, the term "half-assed" does not apply.

Considering the circumstances, FOTC's second Sub-Pop outing, I Told You I Was Freaky, has some worthwhile moments.

Spiral Stairs remains a pleasing, if not especially exciting, singer/songwriter and Real Feel showcases both of these sides effectively, rambling on nicely as it strolls through its songs, but never quite getting into any interesting territory.

There's no way around the fact that most of Machine Dreams is icy electro-pop, but it is not as if the truly singular Yukimi Nagano, an enamoring vocalist, has switched to drone mode, forsaking her grounding in R&B.

Her raw vocal skills remain impressive, as does her taste in soul, and even if this feels off-kilter, not quite achieving a balance between retro and modernity, it does beat with a messy human heart, one that was subdued on Introducing, so perhaps she did need to break free.

As before, Lyle gravitates toward gentle, moody songs, with Tommy Elskes' slyly sarcastic blues, 'Bohemia,' being the liveliest of the bunch, opting to give Natural Forces some humor and tempo through his originals.

It's the core group that delivers the most astonishing displays of hardcore fury and progressive musical exploration on Axe to Fall

Die-hard Slits fans who aren't put off by the band's newfound professionalism or the greater reliance on keyboards at the expense of guitar will find their faith rewarded by Trapped Animal.

If you weren't already on the Russian Circles bandwagon, this is the perfect opportunity to jump on.

One Fast Move or I'm Gone might have evoked Jack Kerouac more vividly with other vocalists besides Farrar, but as a composer and producer, he's done right by his lyricist, and the results are modest but rewarding.

The sonic touches Hagg adds to her songs only makes them better. The combination of their gifts has resulted in something pretty special, possibly the best work either of them has done to date, and hopefully something that will continue.

Impressively impressionistic, New Clouds is a rare mix of restful and engaging, and a significant step forward for Forkner.

So did Do Make Say Think actually intend to attach this level of conceptualism to 'Do,' 'Make,' 'Say,' and 'Think?' Probably not, but it sure is fun to listen to that way.

This is the most compelling recording Youngs has cut since 2004's "River Through Howling Sky," though it doesn't resemble it a bit, and is, in its way, considerably more beautiful, unquestionably more accessible, and equally as magical.

This band may take their time between releases now, but they get exponentially more sophisticated and adventurous, not only in their composed material, but in their approach to making records. This is just stellar top to bottom.

Perkins has always carried the torch of vintage Americana, and he covers all his bases here.

Despite a few upbeat moments that stick out like a thumb that isn't sore, songs like Grizzly Bear and Victoria Legrand's "Slow Life," Editors' "No Sound But the Wind," and Bon Iver and St. Vincent's lovely, truly odd "Roslyn" are morose enough for die-hard Twilight fans and stylish enough to please the most discerning music snobs.

Conditions runs out of juice during its second half, where the anthems of the A-side give way to minor-key ballads and middling rock.

Little about Embryonic is clear-cut or straightforward -- these noisy, pensive, sometimes meandering songs take awhile to decipher and often feel like they're still in the process of becoming. These very qualities, however, make these songs some of the Flaming Lips most haunting and intriguing music in some time.

As a whole, Out of Ashes is a solid record and a fine opening volley for Bennington's solo work.

Apart from the breakneck 'Must Be Santa,' which barrelhouses like a barroom, Dylan doesn't really reinterpret these songs as much as simply play them with his crackerjack road band, dropping in a little flair--restoring "we'll have to muddle through somehow" to 'Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas,' singing the opening of 'O Come All Ye Faithful' in its original Latin--but never pushing tunes in unexpected directions.

This is a ferocious album that's not afraid to be genuinely beautiful. One of the best hard rock releases of 2009.

Songs are allowed as much time as they need, but the album as a whole is economical and right-sized at 11 tracks. This is highly enjoyable weekend music from the underground, nothing more, nothing less.

D.N.A. is more a natural development than a series of drastic shifts, and while it will please the majority of the fan base, the material does not allow Mario--a vocalist more versatile than many would like to admit--to do much more than toggle between a Lothario and a softie.

Har Mar Superstar's never been known for solid full-lengths. He's a song-based artist, and Dark Touches features some of his best singles.

Vijay Iyer's maturing at a rapid rate, while at the height of his powers on this incredible effort that sounds like much more than a mere piano-bass-drums mainstream jazz trio. This is an incredible CD, and a strong candidate for best jazz CD of 2009.

McKeown's in fine voice throughout and the backing players add subtle polish to her finely constructed tunes. Her fluid vocals remain the centerpiece of the album, while her lyrics reveal the heart of a poet and the wisdom of a soul wise beyond her years.

The production (a return engagement from Tucker Martine) remains relatively economical throughout, leaving plenty of room for Thao's distinctive warble/weep to unfold its tales of passion spent and soured.

Regardless of whether or not the band lost whatever career momentum their debut generated, as a piece of music, Three Fact Fader fully delivers on the promise that was left hanging in the air for so long.

With a somewhat re-jiggered lineup, they pick up the thread of that release with the follow-up, Light a Candle.

Easily the singer's most stylistically wide-ranging album, it is also one of his brightest, poppiest, and most fun.

While it isn't quite as honed as "Standing in the Way of Control," on Music for Men the Gossip sound perfectly at home in their new digs, while remaining true to their essence.

While the band's subtlety and consistency threaten to work against them at times, XX is still a remarkable debut that rewards repeated listens and leaves listeners wanting more.

Heartbreak can tear a songwriter to shreds, but it serves the opposite purpose here, lending a sense of vulnerability to Fink's baritone and adding some much-needed drama to the band's music, which previously concerned itself with twee-styled progressions and summery melodies.

Fortunately, he hasn't matured out of his core strengths: his vitality, his expressiveness, and his knack for twisting the vagaries of everyday life for urban youth into material for songs.

Air remains a deceptively subtle band, but repeated listens to Love 2 reveal that Godin and Dunckel aren't just remaining true to their aesthetic here, but that even a smaller-scale album from the duo has plenty of wit and surprises to offer.

He's still writing finely observed vignettes that manage to intersect life as we live it with life as we wish we could live it, and as such, he has more in common with a short story writer than he does with the typical singer/songwriter.

Besides connecting the dots between the chugging side of Neil Young and the slightly warped alterna-pop of the Flaming Lips, Built to Spill continue releasing some of the most affecting, beguiling indie rock of the 2000s.

As David St. Hubbins said, "It's such a fine line between stupid and clever," and Saenz's locker-room humor wears thin quickly. Even cameos from Slipknot's Corey Taylor, Anthrax's Scott Ian, Nelson's Matt Nelson, the Donnas' Allison Robertson and Brett Anderson, and the Darkness' frontman Justin Hawkins can't keep the same dick joke interesting for 40 minutes straight.

Thanks to the production, the performances, and the songs, the Raveonettes have delivered on the renewed promise of "Lust Lust Lust" and made a very good, almost great, noise-pop album.

While Tokio Hotel may not have matured enough to hang with the big boys yet, they are most certainly the dark horses pacing up and down the Disney fringe.

Lou Barlow is still the poet laureate of hiss and heartbreak, and although the hiss is missing on Goodnight Unknown, that's the only defining quality he's lost with the passage of time.

Exploding Head is a fine step forward for A Place to Bury Strangers, and shows they're among the best bands bringing shoegaze into the 21st century.

The List is a renewal and a testament to life, and it belongs to her father as much as it belongs to her, a beautiful restatement of her father's passions, only now, they've become his daughter's treasures, as well.

The Sound the Speed the Light falls a few feet short of the level of excellence Mission of Burma have set for themselves in the past--though most contemporary bands would be overjoyed to make an album as interesting and compelling as this one.

The warmth it conveys is immense, and along with the happiness it provides, the album also shows that the Clientele continue to be one of the best pop bands around in the 2000s.

On This Is Us, the group sounds great for their age, and they sound like they're at their peak.

When they stretch out, they get intriguing, if mixed, results.