While Far is far from bad, it doesn't quite live up to expectations, either, based on all the talent involved in making it and how fully Spektor expressed herself on "Begin to Hope."

Presumably it's not enough for Patterson Hood that he fronts one of the best rock bands in America--Murdering Oscar shows him stepping into an equally impressive solo career, but when the songs he's set aside for himself are this good, you can't blame the man for wanting to share.

Spinnerette also feels a bit overcooked at times, possibly because of the long time it took to make. At its best, however, Spinnerette shows what Dalle can do outside of the Distillers' context, and suggests that maturity and life after punk rock can actually be fun.

As carefully crafted as it is, this is the group's most accessible record yet. And it's a damn fine one at that.

It can be incredibly difficult for an experimental group to continue experimenting for years on end without getting stale, but Tortoise achieve that balance effortlessly.

By sacrificing grit, some of the charm that made the debut a success is lost along the way, but the sleeker production is only a minor setback and some of the songs onboard are Deer Tick's best thus far.

Pentatonic Wars and Love Songs ends up being an urgent, stubborn, and sometimes overly dark view of love in all of its unavoidable permutations. In other words, it's exactly the kind of album of love songs you'd expect from Taylor, one that is direct and as baffling as it is challenging.

Travels with Myself and Another distinguishes Future of the Left from Mclusky without completely severing ties, and proves they're a band that can keep post-hardcore exciting with righteous anger and merciless wit.

For all its abundantly positive qualities and minor but clear distinctions from prior efforts, is still an archetypal Dream Theater album; one that's unlikely to broaden their audience all that much, but is conversely guaranteed to thrill their hardcore converts with its renewed devotion to the most exigent and stimulating facets of the band's chosen musical domain.

It would be easy to call this album an exercise in dabbling if the quality of these songs weren't so strong--and it's that quality, along with Bibio's continuing flair for crafting distinctive atmospheres, that are the only constants throughout.

Singular pop craftsmen (and women) who can successfully tow the line between commercially viable and artistically sovereign are few and far between in the 21st century, which makes the arrival of Eugene McGuinness a true cause for celebration.

God Help the Girl should probably just be viewed as a flawed work or a semi-successful adventure by a solo artist who needs his band to be truly great.

Person to Person is a pleasant enough listen rather than a gripping one, somewhere between enjoyable inspiration and careful exercise, a flavoring in the general indie rock milieu of the early 21st century that, for the moment, can have no greater impact.

this hodgepodge approach should certainly bring Alexisonfire some U.S. rock radio airplay, especially such standout tracks as the leadoff single, 'Young Cardinals,' as well as the album-opening 'Old Crows,' 'The Northern,' and the surprisingly tranquil and sweetly sung album closer, 'Burial.'

Their sound will never grow tiresome; it only gets better with repeated use.

This album ultimately emerges as an erratic project, its highlights spread too thinly to do much good.

If Morello and Riley hadn't been involved in such great projects before, this would be acceptable, but in hindsight, it doesn't really live up to their past accomplishments.

Vines and Trying Times the seams are showing, which makes it a little bit harder to enjoy, even if there are certainly moments where all their craft and charm click, resulting in some fine pop that points out what's missing from the rest of the record.

Some listeners may find this approach riotous, since the humor is pushed right toward the front, while many may miss how their original recordings blurred the lines between real rock and fantasy.

The results are impressive standard-bearers for dancehall, displaying the duo's ample facility for floating the type of productions that have made dancehall the most experimental and extreme type of commercial dance music since it dawned in the mid-'80s.

It's this Grand Royal mish-mash style of mixing genres that makes this such a fun, cartoonish, joy ride.

Forget about long shadows--Williams steps out into the light on Here with Me and proves she doesn't need to use the family name as a crutch.

Seventeen years old and already turning the heads of critics, producers, and session musicians alike, Sarah Jarosz is not only a jaw-dropping talent but a multidimensional one, as well.

In sum, Spirit Moves is a welcome departure for Douglas, who has been working with his longtime electric band and more recently with his great Keystone group.

David Longstreth isn't quite trying to make things easy for his listeners on Bitte Orca, but there's far too much pleasure in this music for its eccentricities to put off anyone who is open to its gleeful, eclectic, internationalist heart.

Sonic Youth's freedom to follow their bliss is what holds The Eternal together; just as paradoxically, the changes they make on this album not only bring excitement to their music, they reaffirm just how consistently good the band has been--and continues to be--over the years.

Battle for the Sun, the band's sixth album and first with drummer Steve Forrest, is given a steel-reinforced production by David Bottrill, a sound that could conceivably be placed on mainstream rock radio if that format still existed, or if it were used as a vehicle for something else than Placebo's music, which remains resolutely pitched toward a niche audience, no matter how many little frills of horns or farting synths grace their guitar grind.

He comes up with a mind-bending, low-key triumph, the kind of magnetic album that takes around a dozen spins to completely unpack.

The E.N.D. (Energy Never Dies) is a mess of pop/dance/rap crossover.

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 ambitious album that finds Miller really stretching himself as a songwriter, but it's hard not to wish there were more songs like the nervy 'If It's Not Love' on board to help the medicine go down.

It's unrelentingly grim, relieved only by Snider's dark humor.

At five songs and 15 minutes long, Rainwater Cassette Exchange is a quick tour of what Deerhunter can do and how well they do it, and more proof the band's inspiration is at its peak.

There's no lack of artists making similar sounding music--MGMT, Pop Levi, White Williams, and even Animal Collective come to mind--but Miike Snow is ambitious and fun enough that they're worth checking out.

There's a lot of ground covered here, of course, yet the band never loses sight of its destination, and those who can keep up are in for a tuneful journey.

While weeding through the wreckage of science, sociology, and religion for the quivering individual may seem like heavily guarded Radiohead territory, Dredg pulls it off with the human heart still intact. At 18 tracks, it can be a lot to swallow, but keep in mind that many of these are transitional pieces and rarely overstay their welcome.

Even if People or the Gun does nothing to break new barriers musically, fans of their early work will be pleased to hear a return to form.

On its own, listeners may be lulled to the chilly deeps of sleep, but paired with the accompanying DVD, they'll be wiping the salt spray from their brows and pulling long rows of kelp out of their teeth.

Joan of Arc's work on a whole generally tends to be pretty loose, but sorting through the remnants and mood pieces on Flowers can make "Boo! Human" seem absolutely cohesive in comparison. Oh well. It's still totally listenable and likeable.

Anyone expecting a courageous game changer will be disappointed by all the swaggering, sexual bragging, and irresponsible pimping the duo frontload onto the effort, but coming to terms with the overall weekend attitude is quick and easy, thanks to rock-solid hooks and Quik's production.

There's a lot of Busdriver on Jhelli Beam, while his themes and lyrics have become even more dense, which makes for a challenging listen that only fitfully rewards the scrutiny.

Here and Now is good enough that you can't help but wish Holsapple and Stamey cut another album before they start getting their Social Security checks.

The Blackout thunder and squall through a batch of songs that deal with the usual topics of heartbreak, betrayal, isolation, and frustration with romance and society and have a familiar sound (sweetly sung vs. rabidly screamed vocals, heavy riffing, cavernous drums, and great walls of processed guitars), but generally have a fresh and vigorous feel that keeps things hopping throughout.

"Electronica that falls somewhere between rock and dance" is probably the best way to sum up Freeland's Cope.

It's quite a stunning sequence, and evidence of the breadth of Nosaj Thing's compositional prowess, which extends from a fine ear for minute detail to a rare sense of album-length sweep.

Of the Cathmawr Yards is a weird album, but sometimes weird is exactly right. That's the case here.

It is also one of the strongest senses of true ambient music as originally proposed, where volume is secondary to overall impact.

The sound of the SACD is vibrant, present, and life-like, particularly in the little match girl passion. Highly recommended for fans of new music.

All this means is that Chickenfoot's big picture is roughly in place but the pieces don't quite fit, but that doesn't stop the group from trying to force it, with Sammy sounding as awkward singing about south-of-the-border drug runners as Satriani does spinning off complicated riffs on party rockers.

Where "Avenue B" was a pretentious mess, Preliminaires is flawed but significantly more successful.

Despite the occasional stuffiness, there's a lot of good material here and it's all executed well, but it's hard not to shake the feeling that this is a collection of leftovers masquerading as a main course.

What makes Big Whiskey & the GrooGrux King the Dave Matthews Band's richest, and quite possibly best, album is the implicit message that all the love and loss can be felt and shared through the music, that the creation of the music itself is the reason why they're here--and that's not just a moving tribute to LeRoi Moore, it's a reason for the band to keep moving on.

This large, cavernous sound camouflages the lingering emo elements which largely surface in the angst-mining lyrics, as well as the occasional bellow, and even if this lack of stridency may alienate some longtime followers, this gleaming pop-punk makeover is the band at its most immediate and easy to enjoy.

This is a beautifully crafted, stripped-down recording, showcasing once more that E uses searing honesty and a canny sense of pop, rock, blues, and everything else to chronicle his own strange path through life and its labyrinth.

Not only was the wait worth it, Archives feels like it was 20 years in the making. It's an extraordinary work that redefines what an autobiography can be.

Rancid's been doing this a long time and while they'll never recapture the exact same power and glory they exuded in the '90s', on Let the Dominos Fall they show they've got more than enough of each to get by in grand style.

While it is neither as monumental as "Donuts" nor as exemplary as the "Dillanthology" discs, Jay Stay Paid is close to a must for any casual Dilla admirer.

Roadhouse Sun sounds like he's still making his "Greetings from Asbury Park"--the kind of record whose clunkers are obvious enough to put a chink into the album's very real virtues.

While not every song is a rousing success, Blood feels fresh and alive--and underscores that Franz Ferdinand should take chances like this more often.

Crossing the Rubicon is the sound of a band reaching their potential as artists and it's very satisfying to see and, more importantly, to hear.

This one leaves its generational competition in the dust and is wise beyond this songwriter's years, and to be frank, leaves his own previous identity as simply a bedroom balladeer to history.

It captures him as a working musician, pushing his first album hard, trying to get his name and music known, not caring about anything outside of the moment--all things that offer a potent, stirring reminder of Buckley's power and grace.

Because the album is so continuously lush and candy-coated with a shoegaze gleam, no particular song really sticks out. Instead, hooks surface slowly from the electro-wash, rewarding repeated listens.

It's clear that Veckatimest was made for a lot of listening. Nearly every song feels like the musical equivalent of a big meal: there's lots to digest, and coming back for second (and thirds, and more) is necessary.

Beyond containing the band's best, most efficient songwriting, the album also stands apart from the first three studio albums by projecting a cool punch that is unforced.

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.