Fleming may have lost some of the outsider charm that bubbled through the first Diane Coffee record by going big, but he went big in such a sure-handed and spectacular way, it's hard to complain too much. In fact, an album this crazy and good deserves nothing but praise and adulation.

The album sometimes amazingly sounds as if the Zombies had reunited in 1980 for an album produced by the Buggles' Trevor Horn, resulting in a joyful, 50-minute orgasm of chamber pop jubilation.

With a playing time of over an hour, and a reflective, more often than not formless complexion, even acknowledging its subtle whimsy and California roots, Eucalyptus goes by like a long drive through the plains, rewarding the patient and attentive.

The Desaturating Seven is unlikely to attract new fans. Typically eccentric, it's an interesting exercise, although nonessential outside the sphere of Primus/Claypool devotees.

McCombs and crew have painted a portrait of endless highways, ghost towns, and sunburnt moments of ecstatic possibility.

The songs that pull in the attention are the lumbering riff-rockers, the ones that open the album and set a muscular, nostalgic tone that, if you're of a certain disposition, is pretty hard to resist.

The soulfulness and melancholy of these songs make them special among Tellier's body of work, giving more depth to Confection than might be expected.

The lo-fi production often makes Baenziger's laments hard to decipher, but her delicate voice drips with a heartache and loneliness that makes the tunes hard to resist.

This is bold pop-rap at an "Arena" level, and while partying like a rock star means cohesiveness takes a hit, Strange Clouds is still thrilling and persuasive.

It's a debut with potential, especially if Howler find their own identity as completely as they borrowed others'.

The result is an interesting, unexpected piece of work, devoid of a militantly commercial single like Empire's self-titled track, and lacking the shaggy Madchester vibes that Christopher Karloff brought to 2004's Kasabian.

It’s an explicit leap into new territory for the band, and though the second half may drag a bit, songs like “Natural Selection,” “Joy Factory,” "The Answer," and “On a Wire” make for some of UNKLE’s all-time best singles, ones that rank right up there with “Rabbit in Your Headlights” and “Lonely Soul.”

If the album seems somewhat slight, it’s purposefully so: Head First is a love letter to the frothy, fleeting, but very vital joys of pop music.

His ability to pump out the music is admirable, now he just needs a filter to sift the crap from the gold. If he hones in on his vision, there's spectacular potential. Until then, we'll have to take the bad with the good or self-compile a "greatest-hits of Wavves 2008/2009" mix tape.

The truth of its fineness and devastating beauty is in the hearing.

A heartfelt tribute that's among Clapton's most purely enjoyable albums.

What gives it some distinction is that there's a freshness to the music, largely dervied from its quick recording, a quality that has been lacking in his records for many years now, arguably since Big Daddy.

Though it is still faithful to much of the feel of Let It Be, the presentation of Naked, including the slight bits of modern-day editing, reveals that it is revisionist history, not the final word. Which doesn't hurt it as a record -- these are great songs, after all -- but it is a bit disappointing that this long-awaited project wasn't executed with a little more care and respect for the historical record.

Typically cryptic and loaded with tasty guitar, Songs and Other Things is an excellent return for Tom Verlaine.

Devin's target audience, on the other hand, embraces sleaze, porno, weed, and hip-hop with plenty of memorable stingers, and seeing as how Landing Gear delivers on all counts, fans of Texas' most blunted rapper will once again be pleased.

It's just a solid album, and just another example of Boeckner and Perry's tingling creative chemistry.

Defying Gravity builds on the skill set that gave listeners "Love, Pain & the Whole Crazy Thing" and takes it further, seamlessly combining hook-laden crafty songwriting with a pop sensibility in the modern country vernacular that blazes a new trail and underscores Duke Ellington's dictum that there are only two kinds of music: good and bad. This is a shining case in point for the former.

Even though Cryptacize remain difficult to pin down, the chances they take on Mythomania bring them a little bit closer to reach.

His limited dynamic range creates an intense, almost suffocating feeling of intimacy, and is, therefore, in its way, dramatic.

Ellipse is some of her most wide-ranging work, physically and musically speaking.

Nurses proceed to provide exactly what is expected of them and what their audience presumably expects.

While Pearson would likely be flattered to be told that this disc resembles a hybrid of Michael Mayer's Immer (stern, dramatic; Joy Division) and Triple R's Friends (comparatively brighter and outgoing; New Order), he might also find the description a little limiting. Yet this disc does have each one of its elder siblings’ charms: a gentle buildup and easy finish, extended trance-like passages, spongy rhythms, seemingly incongruent tracks melded with ease and restraint, almost subliminally tense transitions from menace to bliss, and even some whispered vocals.

Invented, as tuneful as it may be, still plays an odd role in Jimmy Eat World's discography, since it can't quite figure out how to transcend a genre -- one that Jimmy Eat World helped invent, no less -- that exclusively caters to younger listeners.

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.

It's true that Tre3s still finds Chikita Violenta seeking a sound completely their own, but they're closer than ever, due in large part to the improved quality of the songwriting and arrangements.

A Dream a While Back is an essential additional document in Higgins' legacy and adds to, not diminishes, Red Hash's legacy.

Within the digital production, which is acidic and cavernous, there are hints of the Kills (fuzz blasts, crunchy mechanical drums), Clinic (vacant vocals), and Animal Collective (watery, circular melodies).

Buried beneath the relentless, grinding beats and wobbly bass tremors, Welcome Reality is home to a potentially great but unfinished sci-fi blockbuster soundtrack, but unable to sustain its early momentum, it ends up being merely a solid first offering rather than the trail-blazing spectacular that was anticipated.

As a hair metal album, Balls Out is finely crafted and well produced, evoking the glossy sound of the era, but as a joke, it's pretty one-note, so either you're going to get it or it's going to grate on you.

The target audience should think of it as a bag marked "regs" that comes with no organic flavor or transcendent buzz, but is easy to roll and surprisingly dank.

When compared to the Revenue Retrievin' onslaught, which was sorted into thematic sets (Day, Night, etc.), these unwieldy Block Brochures come off as a hyphy data dump, leaving all executive production up to the listener.

Though there's no arguing the strength of her vocals on Long Distance, comparing these takes with the originals casts greater light on what she's lost rather than what she's gained in her stylistic transition.

On a Bedroom Wall is an impressive record from a "joke" band, full of emotion and hooks, which should get them taken seriously by lovers of '80s-influenced sounds done in a thoroughly modern manner.

Fortunately, all of it's enlivened by Gray's ability to (mostly) deliver strong performances that don't sound like they've been labored over.

Cruel Summer is a mistitled fireworks show from Kanye West and his G.O.O.D. Music label/roster/empire, one that comes off as mixtape-minded follow-up to his flossy Jay-Z team-up Watch the Throne.

Certainly, Night Train is huge, but its size feels derived by divine proclamation: it is big simply because it was intended to be big but at its core it feels weary, a little hollow, and not at all fun.

The highlights are all casual, subtle, finely detailed midtempo numbers and slow jams. What's truly disappointing is the absence of energetic songs descended from soul and funk.

One Direction deliver another immediately catchy mix of dancey pop that maximizes the group's shared lead-vocal approach and peppy, upbeat image.

The band hasn't strayed too far from what made it successful in its beginnings, but with Naomi, they've shifted their energy into producing the aural equivalent of a cloudless summer day.

Late for Nothing finds the band not missing a step despite losing an integral member, as LaPlante ably fills the rather formidable vacancy left by Cameron.

With The B-Sides, fans are treated to another side of the band with a collection of live tracks, acoustic versions, covers, and unused studio cuts. While you could always describe the band's sound as raw, there's a sense of practiced composure on their albums that's refreshingly absent from the acoustic home recordings of "The Queen of Lower Chelsea" and "Boxer."

Dark Arc is a mixed bag.

La Grange's newfound electronic experimentalism also fits nicely next to works by her similarly inclined contemporaries like Goulding, Grimes, and Alex Winston, adding a unique and unmistakable twist to the subgenre that makes it seem all her own.

Some of the songs could have been fronted by anybody. Hudson occasionally sounds disconnected from the material, but the singer, as powerful as ever, still leaves her indelible mark on everything.

Like much of Boratto's previous work, it's all superbly crafted but not much of it leaves a lasting impression.

Although it may not be his most cohesive release, it's nothing if not completely original and begs the question of where he'll go from here.

This is a distinctive, ambitious record that takes advantage of her natural talents in surprising ways.

The songwriting on I Worship Chaos is impressive, as if the quartet format forced COB to focus on delivering tunes of real substance before anything else. The performances are equally inspired--the material is so good, it challenge the musicians to pull it off.

While much of the material here falls pretty squarely in each vocalist's wheelhouse, there are a few surprises.

Tthe way she's moved forward on this date, wedding her musical identities, makes for a striking if uneven listen and bodes well for future recordings.

Some of the album's more delicate tracks still feel a little formless, and there are a lot of other bands mining similar musical territory, but The Hanging Valley's best moments suggest Cold Pumas are just tapping into their potential.

It's clear Matthew Milia has the talent to do any number of things, but thankfully he's happy to continue making music, and Enter the Kingdom is yet another reminder that Frontier Ruckus are one of the best things to come out of Michigan since Faygo Redpop.

A worthy update of 7AM's tone poems, 8AM proves that seven years can feel like only an hour later when the music is this transporting.

Hayman's later solo work has relied more and more on this type of historically oriented conceptualism, with the Thankful Villages project being among the most unique offerings of his career. Like the first volume, this set is a warmly captured and richly envisioned endeavor that is unlike anything else in pop or folk music.

Often, Montana gets lost in the guest shuffle, but of the six tracks where he's riding solo, he showcases his own skills well enough.

This can result in highly intriguing experiences, such as the industrial drift of opening track "One on One" and the riveting "My Body," which matches its physical lyrics with muscular, glitchy drumming. Other tracks seem to meander a bit, however, and are hard to grasp at first. Still, the duo's haunting blend of challenging electronics and introspective, sometimes cathartic lyrics sounds unmistakably unique.

Dando remains a sensitive, nuanced interpreter and, as produced by Matthew Cullen, the Lemonheads sound amiable and charming: the best college bar band you could imagine stumbling upon on a Saturday afternoon.

Emerald Valley isn't the slam dunk that Invitation was, but it's more than good enough to suggest this project has legs, and here's hoping the participants find time to cut a third album sooner than later.

For the most part, this approach works about as well as it did on their early releases, resulting in a warm but weary amalgam of the Everly Brothers' innate musicality and the Avett Brothers' homespun approachability with a touch of Elliott Smith's downcast ruminations tossed in for good measure.

The Ritual Begins at Sundown pays affectionate tribute to Zappa's influence and spirit, but this music is also filtered through an idiosyncratic vision that balances complexity and technique with fun, the will to creativity, and an incessant urge to dance.

There's some ambling charm to Greendale, but Return to Greendale won't convert doubters. Instead, it'll play well to the album's fans, as this sounds like a leaner, muscular version of the studio set.

What's striking about the compilation is how a roster as diverse as Eric Clapton, Shaggy, Mary J. Blige, Annie Lennox, Herbie Hancock, Sam Moore, and Julio Iglesias doesn't sound especially eclectic; when the common denominator is Sting, all the guests adapt to his particular ways.

The good news is they're clearly getting better at this, and there are plenty of compelling places the Districts could go next from this vantage point.

You & I is a nourishing, adult examination of love and relationships that matures the singer and her catalog in the process.

Not every track on Welcome 2 Collegrove is essential, and the quality gets spottier in the final quarter, but the album stays consistently fun if not entirely engaging.

The guys are aging gracefully, playing to their strengths -- catchy, high-energy anthems that blend pop-punk with good ol' fashioned hardcore -- rather than trying to rehash any of that youthful intensity and rawness of their early albums.

Four may not be as cohesive as Silent Alarm, but it just might be more vital.

Its ragged, unfinished nature illustrates that she's more interested in pursuing her art than recycling Come Away with Me, and if this third album isn't as satisfying as that debut, it nevertheless is a welcome transitional effort that proves her artistic heart is in the right place.

A resounding success... She won't get the same press that Loretta Lynn got for her "comeback", but this may even be more impressive an accomplishment because it come out of nowhere.

Small Black haven't quite mastered balancing their newfound polish with memorable songs, but New Chain's sound is so appealing that it could be considered one of the first chillwave albums aimed at the mainstream.

This is a back to basics effort with no superstar Lil Wayne guest shot, and plenty of mixtape flavored production mostly from the hands of Skitzo or araabMUZIK.

The album sounds as if it were cut in the living room late one night, the bandmembers easing into songs they've always loved but never played.

While Gonzalez still hasn't hit the perfect balance between her experimental leanings and undeniable pop skills, Liquid Cool turns the strengths of her debut and One Second of Love into her most consistent album yet.

It's sturdy, well-written power pop, but it falls prey to some of the faults of craftsmanlike pop -- mainly, it's possible to hear the craft behind the pop instead of just getting sucked into the sugar rush of the melodies.

Norrvide strips the project to its barest essentials and allows listeners a chance to really hear the perpetually uneasy emotions at its core.

As fringe collections go, it is worthwhile, especially for fans of Mathematics. Just don’t be surprised when the faithful turn against the set: they already have too many “pretty good” comps to choose from.

It's a damn good debut from a guy worth watching out for in the future.

Diamond Rugs is a lot more fun and less self-conscious than what Deer Tick usually delivers.

Best to ignore these two misfits [ballads "Sob Story" and "In a Bad Way"] and think of all the finely played and sung modern guitar pop that surrounds them. Because that stuff will make fans of Prefab Sprout, Orange Juice, and all the bands who have stolen from them through the years very happy and satisfied indeed.

Though the album's openness does require some amount of patience on the listener's part, it's a beautifully crafted album that expands upon the ground laid by the recent experiments of Earth, and will provide anyone willing to explore the depths of tracks like "Walkin' with a Woman" or "The Shroud" with a rewardingly trippy listening experience.

If you're fond of the notion of rock & roll as folk music, A Productive Cough is something you'll want to hear, an album that captures the roar of the masses in an unexpected way, and if you've loved the songs of Titus Andronicus as much as their music, you'll find this isn't quite so different as you might think.

The record may not have the same depth and variety that It Was Easy had, but as a document of what a Title Tracks show in 2011 sounds like, it's pretty much perfect.

Come and Get It!--his third LP and first for a major label--feels a bit like an unearthed relic, built on songs and sounds that could pass for unheard gems if it wasn't for Reed's unapologetically white voice, free of affectations and ticks.

Their debut album, Colour Trip, is more of a nostalgia trip as they delve deeply into shoegaze, dream pop, noise pop, and generally seem to be auditioning for a spot on the Creation roster between My Bloody Valentine and Ride.

[The album's] drifting momentum makes 2:54 a lot like taking a trip on a train, allowing listeners to simply sit back and enjoy the scenery without needing to think too much about how they're getting from one end of the journey to the other.

Even at their most psychedelic on Golden Age, Grandchildren remain a memorably melodic, utterly listenable band.

This is, no doubt, one of the most flagrantly lecherous commercial R&B albums of its time. It also has sharp hooks and slick productions to spare.

While it's often an absorbing listen, it's hard to fathom this appealing to anyone but the terminally obsessed.

If you give Who Killed Harry Houdini? a serious listen and can get past the initial surprise and mild disappointment, the quiet beauty of the songs, the tender performances, and the beaten down but not broken soul of Emanuel Lundgren are enough to break your heart.

While it's a pleasant enough listen, the entire album falls short of the potential opulence hinted at by its best tracks.

Sometimes it sounds like Ennio Morricone, sometimes the Penguin Café Orchestra. Mostly it sounds like its own thing.

The Beauty of the Rain is Dar Williams' first recording that truly expands upon the sound of the album before it.

The problem is Lavigne is still so young she's listening to the radio hits of the '90s and early 2000s: she's Pink when she's bucking authority, Alanis Morissette when she's angry, and Jewel when she's sensitive.