This album marks the return of former bassist Twiggy Ramirez to the band, but as ever the Manson personality/persona towers over everything else, and his two or three musical ideas are repeated throughout the disc, with only a few exceptions.

Everything about Amanda Leigh is just a shade too precise--the production too transparent, the singing too on the nose, the mood too subdued--to achieve the homespun quality Moore so cherishes, but a large part of Mandy's appeal is her good taste and her clean way with a song, something that is readily apparent and often winning on Amanda Leigh.

On Eating Us, Black Moth Super Rainbow prove that they can grow up a little without growing boring, and still deliver exactly the same amount of unhealthy sweetness as before.

It's a fair guess that he has a workshop full of chorus, flange, and delay pedals from that era at his disposal, considering that every instrument and vocal line is run through one effect or another, making most of the album unintelligible or indecipherable, but it's just that limitless, everything-including-the-kitchen-sink way of working that makes Blank Dogs so special and interesting.

Monoliths and Dimensions succeeds because it is the sound of a new music formed from the ashen forge of drone, rock, and black metal.

While Fake Surfers might not have the immediate impact of Finberg's earlier albums, but it takes his music in some bold directions without losing its smart-alecky, catchy-despite-itself essence.

Harmonium gets tiresome toward the end. However, fans of light, clean, crisp and non-threatening psychedelia--as in '60s children's TV music, library music, groovy instrumentals with a flute lead, etc.--will be delighted, and rightfully so.

A big part of the energy of Dave Alvin and the Guilty Women comes from the musicians, and while some might think Alvin might be aiming for novelty factor by recording with five women, one listen will wipe those thoughts from your mind.

Ciao! is at once a tremendously enjoyable piece of dancefloor fluff and an impressively unified statement from a master synthesist of electronic pop pleasures.

The Glass Bead Game is the most forward-thinking and sublimely executed of James Blackshaw's releases to date.

There's almost a subversive aspect to how City Center doesn't play to Thomas' known strengths, but the risk pays off: City Center adds another fascinating dimension to his music.

At her best, like on the slow-burn opener 'I Hate the Way,' the lovelorn Xanax and sambuca anthem 'Other Too Endless,' and the rousing single 'Nitrogen Pink,' she successfully bridges the gap between teen pop and adult alternative rock, but when she gets stuck in the confessional too long, the results are more indulgent than powerful.

His flow is so good, his wordplay so sharp, it seems churlish to wish that he addressed something than his long-standing obsessions and demons.

Thanks to the meticulous production values, the insane catchiness of the hooks, and the pure and true emotional underpinnings below all the gloss, the album is a total success of both sound and vision.

Amos doesn't record as much as most artists, and it must be tempting to give fans everything she can, but in this case, it's hurt her a bit. Still there, are many tracks here worth adding to one's Amos shelf.

Compilations can be tricky to assemble, but Around the Well is both comprehensive and conveniently presented, with each disc representing the two amorphous halves of Iron & Wine's career.

Yours Truly is more cohesive than many of those past albums, a comforting hybrid of west coast beauty and stark, isolationist expanse that bodes well for his solo career.

The songs here pulsate with perversion, a middle-aged man making damn sure that he's going to get with a tight 23-year-old body yet again; it's the sound of a fetishist turned sexual omnivore.

If open to it, the album can be even more enveloping than the debut. The added warmth and a little extra depth go a long way.

Romanian Names holds the unfortunate and surprising distinction of being the very first John Vanderslice album to feel like just another John Vanderslice album.

The original deserves the top spot, but think of this as the "Godfather Part II" of reckless boom-bap rap and you've got an idea of how well this Blackout! satisfies.

Thanks to Monahan and the strength of the songs the trio wrote for the album, this stands as Au Revoir Simone's best work so far.

A handful of similar tracks suffer from this same problem of ambition over inspiration, but for every miss, there's a hit.

Just Go, slightly more so than Coming Home, tends to be a happy (and comforting) medium between Richie's familiar approach and contemporary R&B.

Of the many excellent and diverse projects Joe Lovano has produced and won critical acclaim for, this ranks with his very best, as strong an album as he has ever produced, with musicianship at an extremely high level, and well-conceived compositions that continue to identify him a true original.

The style of music being obscure to modern listeners makes this project's viability a good one, and La Llama reveals material of quality from a great ensemble of musicians.

All of these are very good tunes, but it's the heartfelt content at the album's thematic core that makes 'Em Are I not just Lewis' most consistent album, but also his most truly affecting and easily his most successful outing to date.

One hears a variety of influences on this 2009 release, including no wave, psychedelic rock, art rock, 1980s post-punk, Brit-pop, and even folk at times; all of those influences serve Clues well, and all of them add to the intrigue on their promising debut album.

Espoir is one of the great surprises of 2009.

The songs here all sound very samey. Not to say it's an easy listen. It's a dark one, and many songs lose themselves in sleepy, drawn-out droning. However, extended jams should be nothing new to those well-versed in the Warlocks catalog

The band manages to have 21st Century Breakdown work on a grand scale without losing either their punk or pop roots, which makes the album not only a sequel to "American Idiot," but its equal.

The same anything-goes-attitude, the adherence to all kinds of folk music, whether it's from across oceans, terrains, or alleyways, whether its roots are rural or urban, permeates this recording, making it an Earle record most of all; and that is about as fitting a tribute as there is to Van Zandt.

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.

While Quicken the Heart isn't bad, its slide into the nondescript is certainly disappointing.

Sewn Together suggests that the Meat Puppets are following their bliss again, and if it's not quite up to the standards of their classic material, there's no question that it reconnects with the qualities that made them so special.

Just 22 minutes long, We Be Xuxa doesn't waste time in proving that Mika Miko can expand on their Cali-punk roots without losing what made them vital in the first place.

For fans of Andrew Kenny's past work, Magnolia is a sobering counterpart to American Analog's gentle buzz, a soundtrack for those moments in which dreams give way to the slow ascent of morning.

They have done many good, verging on excellent records, over the past decade, but only this has the songs and the atmosphere to be placed next to their best albums.

Divided by Night is indeed varied and polished, and it includes guest features by the bucketful, but it reveals again that, more than anything, the Crystal Method are merely clever regurgitators of the past, particularly chained to making extroverted dance music that never innovates and rarely excites.

No one should have expected getting Blood from a Stone to be easy, but it's a shame it had to be this much of a chore.

Enigk's undeniably rich and powerful voice has never sounded better, and his enigmatic lyrics remain resplendent with biblical imagery and magnetic poetry-engineered spiritual vagaries, but in removing the complex arrangements that have haunted nearly every one of his post-Sunny Day projects, he's exposed his weakest batch of songs to date.

Fussless and fluid, loose but never lazy, Desire Lines is another fine feather in the caps of Rune Lindbaek and Idjut Boys, who now take their place alongside fellow travelers Studio, Hatchback, and Quiet Village as creators of some of the finest, hippest, and coolest chillout music of the late 2000s.

They will need to move on eventually, but for now Bricolage are just fine doing what they are doing, and their debut delivers on the promise of their early singles and then some. Edwyn (and Vic and James) should be proud.

This is some of Saint Vincent's most complicated music, but its fearless creativity rewards repeated listening, as Clark has few rivals when it comes to seducing ears and challenging minds at the same time.

There are also plenty of moments that aren't groundbreaking, but still show that Merill Nisker has a lot to say about sex, music, and pop culture nearly a decade after Teaches of Peaches was released.

Oberst himself seems swept up in the motion--he's dropped his vocal affectations, his grandiose couplets, he's happy to be leading a group that feels like a band of brothers--one that might not always sing in the same voice, but share a sensibility, something that gives Outer South a big human heart.

Seemingly undaunted, Seth Olinsky, Miles Seaton, and Dana Janssen recruited engineer and co-producer Chris Koltay, and enlisted nine other musicians to create the most far-reaching, margin-breaking set of the band's career to date.

This is the record that finally matches the excitement Harper generates in a live setting and is not to be missed.

Even if Ciara imaginatively develops the "Super C" superhero introduced in the disc's booklet, she and her collaborators will have to work extra hard on the next album to ensure that she does not stall in a creative cul de sac.

Cause I Sez So is clearly David Johansen's album, and it's a great showcase for one of the great rock singers of his generation. But is it the New York Dolls? Well, that's what it says on the front cover, and if the sound is different, the "Whatsit to You?" spirit of this set is as keen as ever, and that counts for a lot with these guys.

It's far from revolutionary and it's certainly not deep, but as often as not, Entertainment at least manages to live up to its title.

As bold and listenable as it is, Primary Colours is occasionally scattered, giving the impression that the band is trying on different sounds for size--although the fact that most of it works so well is actually more surprising than how different it is than their earlier work.

What makes Outside Love most compelling is that grim sort of optimism, delivered through a well-crafted sound that is as sedated as it is passionate, and simple as it is profound.

Roadsinger is an utterly solid catalog entry under either his adopted spiritual name or his former one. Longtime fans will not be disappointed, and the rest of us should take note, too, because this kind of songcraft is seldom come by anymore.

Wavering Radiant works as a single piece of music rather than a series of songs, and it is cohesively played by an ensemble that is more interested in the dark majesty of metal than its potential for expressing anger.

Shifting into metalcore territory is a tricky decision, since a lot of their initial appeal was due to the fact that they were making their own personal stamp on revitalizing punk--a genre that's becoming increasingly saturated with commercialism. Here, they seem less unique.

So if the first disc of Enter the Vaselines is absolutely essential, the bonus disc is for fanatics only.

Chrisette, naturally, sounds outstanding throughout, as a supernaturally talented vocalist whose songs are nonetheless easily relatable to anyone going through a breakup--or, to a significantly lesser extent here, newfound love--but the album could have really used more rhythmic punch than a token throwback strutter.

Cryptomnesia is a tough, rugged, and wildly ambitious set of far-reaching--sometimes overly so--compositions reflecting the rapid growth of one of the new century's most genuinely talented and visionary musicians.

It all adds up to a good but frustrating album of really solid highs and really annoying lows.

If anything, though, what Replica Sun Machine calls to mind is a previous attempt to meld aesthetics from about ten years back, the Beta Band's "Hot Shots II"--it's not a question of exact similarity by any means, but there's a similarly easygoing feel in the arrangements and the beats, something that invites drift and a steady crunch in equal measure.

His debut for Domino, 2009's Insides, is his first record that many people will hear and it's a promising, but flawed, debut.

The band sounds the most engaged on the early hardcore numbers like "Suicidal Maniac" (Suicidal Tendencies), "Thirsty and Miserable" (Black Flag), and "It's the Limit" (Cro-Mags), while nods to the metal gods such as "Ghosts of War" (Slayer) and "Escape" (Metallica) are blistering and volatile enough to warrant inclusion, but feel a little rote.

This is elsewhere music one can feel eternally at home in, no matter your place of origin.

Even if Lee's songs of solidarity are basically sweet in nature, his puppy-dog earnestness winds up being off-putting in the long run on The Rebirth of Venus.

Colonia may share with the Cardigans' late records that polished yet entirely too comfortable sound that reveals few insights, but it deftly presents Persson's uncomfortable vision of a world with little left to hold onto.

Sonically, this is right in line with Dylan's 2000s albums, the sound of a well-lubricated traveling band easing into the same chords they play every night, but this isn't strictly roadhouse rock & roll: Dylan remains fixated on pre-rock & roll American music, emphasizing the blues but eager to croon love-struck ballads.

While the Osbourne-fronted and Dio-fronted versions of Black Sabbath are, again, very different bands, this is an album that matches its moment every bit as perfectly as "Paranoid" did back in 1970.

These are slight, subtle progressions but what impresses is how thoroughly My One and Only Thrill lives up to the promise of her debut, offering another album that is as enchanting in its sound as it is in its substance.

Even without 'Neon Jesus'--the single that garnered Crocodiles quite a bit of web attention just before this release--Summer of Hate stands strong as a tremendous debut: one that pays heavy tribute to its influences while never seeming overly derivative.

Remind Me Where the Light Is ultimately concludes as the luminous successor to "Trading Twilight for Daylight"--bright where that album was nocturnal, open-armed where "Twilight" was introspective, and altogether illustrative of Great Northern's growth as songwriters and performers.

High on Jackson Hill doesn't quite trump "Fables" the way that album outclassed its precursor, but it's hardly accurate to call this a disappointment.

Following on from a much earlier collaborative single, the first full-length effort pulling together Modeselektor and Apparat--despite a name that suggests a Depeche-loving rodent--has plenty to offer without entirely being a full-on slam dunk.

This is an interesting diversion giving insight into the band's coordinates.

You might not trust Thee Oh Sees to give you a ride home after a gig, but if you're looking for a seriously buzzy rave-up, Help certainly delivers the goods.

Maybe it's a clue that Jones has already moved on and that there's not much here to get excited about, past some high-powered singles.

As a whole, it's not one of their best records, considering the size of their discography, but it's not a bad little record. Fans will like it since the band is still shining as a tight unit and hasn't lost a step musically.

The performances are hit-or-miss--and many of them are trumped by Folds' own pair of songs--but the originality remains fairly consistent, yielding an album that should delight a cappella enthusiasts and, at the very least, interest the average Folds fan.

Empire of the Sun's debut offering of electro-pop experiments and dancefloor daydreams is well timed indeed, arriving just as the buzz surrounding MGMT's "Oracular Spectacular" has started to recede.

They're in a slump with their songwriting, and subject-wise, every song here has a companion piece on some earlier album, but that doesn't mean the party is spoiled.

Dark Days is vibrant and alive, an ever-flowing, ever-shifting, carousel of sound--some might miss the emphasis on song, but it's a ride that's hard to resist.

Bun E's very presence suggests that Tinted Windows might have a bit of Cheap Trick's feverish rock & roll, but the group errs on the side of caution, the product of a bunch of longtime veterans getting back to basics and playing their first love. While the former cancels out the latter ever so slightly--there's not much abandon here, only precision--the pleasure of the popcraft outweighs much of the caution in the construction, especially when the insistent hooks are delivered with such puppy-dog earnestness by Taylor Hanson.

On the whole, Sounds of the Universe is a grower, relying on a few listens to fully take effect, but when it does, it shows Depeche Mode are still able to combine pop-hook accessibility and their own take on "roots" music for an electronic age with sonic experimentation and recombination.

A slightly more polished and accessible album than their last, showing the band tightening their reigns slightly and turning in some of their tightest, cleanest work to date.

They may be eternal adolescents, but they're also true believers in what made rock & roll great in the first place. They won't hide--can't hide--that enthusiasm, and it's contagious on Art Brut vs. Satan.

Potato Hole isn't a slab of greasy Stax soul, either. It is what it is, a new Booker T. Jones album, and hopefully it won't take another 20 years to get to the next one.

Asleep in the Bread Isle is an everyday suburban rap album, if there is such a thing.

Mean Everything to Nothing has its moments and shows Hull to be a decent enough songwriter, but there's ultimately too much outright mimicry on display and not enough originality for it to have any longevity.

Too intelligent and well-crafted to dismiss but too disjointed and self-indulgent to really embrace, Love the Future is equally frustrating and promising.

If My Maudlin Career falls a tiny bit short of "Let's Get Out of This Country," and it does, it's only because that album was so wonderful.

Upon the first listen, The Bright Mississippi merely seems like a joyous good time, but subsequent spins focus attention on just how rich and multi-layered this wonderful music is.

Even if this isn't much "Deeper" than the average Three 6 Mafia album, the glitz and guts of Deeper are a big step up, making Ross sound like a Miami-fied version of Young Jeezy.

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

As a cold description, this modbilly beat sounds pretty interesting, especially because the group goes to great pains to rearrange many of its covers, but as an album Modbilly drags, offering endless permutations of the same plodding boogie.

Cage the Elephant didn't exist until 2005, but as this self-titled album demonstrates, their ability to be influenced by alternative rock and classic rock simultaneously is a definite plus.

The stories are told over attractive folk/country/rock arrangements, which to some extent ameliorate the gloom.

Listeners will have to wait and see on that score, whether she grows up and calms down or if age only sharpens her rage, but for all her all-too-human flaws, with a set of songs this strong, it's safe to say her time has already arrived.

While it's a little uneven, Dance Mother is often fascinating, and a big step forward for Telepathe without losing what made them distinctive in the first place.