The Old 97's sound youthful and newly energized, having returned to Dallas and relocated that beloved crossroads between twangy country rock and tight, economic power pop.

The nice thing about the soulful shimmer of We Sing is that it's so slick that it's easy to ignore the gibberish spilling out of Mraz's mouth and just enjoy the sunny, easy sound.

Thing of the Past succeeds on three different fronts. Certainly, excellent song selection is one, inspired musicianship and arrangements another, but the actual sound of the recording is equally important in putting Thing of the Past across.

A couple tracks and a few stray lines aside, these verses could have been dashed off by the MC at just about any earlier point in her career.

This is the sort of psychedelia that space rockers and Nuggets fans alike can come together over.

This isn't Local H's best album, but it's certainly their most daring and emotionally naked, and the results are truly impressive.

There's a pronounced chamber music feel to much of the instrumentation, particularly with the liberal use of cello and violin drones, as well as harp accents. Often it's darker and tougher, however, than some other artists who follow similar lines.

Tooth of Crime is a smart, absorbing, and beautifully disquieting collection of songs that could have come from no one else but T Bone Burnett, and it shows that one of America's best songwriters may be working at a very deliberate pace but he still has some remarkable things left to tell us.

Splash's bratty Lil Wayne-meets-Michael Henderson falsetto can wear thin across 66 sprawling minutes (the crew would benefit from a second lead voice), but something far more problematic would have to be in play to impair this stomping good time.

It also strikes a blow for taking chances and not resting on your accomplishments, but most importantly, Couples is an exciting, challenging listen full of brains, daring, and plenty of icy heart.

Despite all the intensity, the Last Shadow Puppets have a light touch--their songs are short and don't overstay their welcome, and the whole affair is just arty and indulgent enough to make it special.

There was a variety of styles on Trust Me, none of which detracted from its overall sense of cohesion.

No Age turn noise into gold on Nouns.

Gavin DeGraw won't change things, either, as it pretty much offers more of the same as "Chariot," polishing up the sound, turning it into something bigger and slicker, but not changing his vaguely rootsy, vaguely soulful pop a whit.

The pop textures are more evident, the melodies are more hook-laden, and the overall vibe is more laid-back than past releases, varying in moods from positively gleeful to terribly melancholy.

While The Supreme Balloon's nostalgic synthetic playground is a smaller statement than some of Matmos' other albums, it's still a strong one.

As it makes these digressions seem funny, not fussy, and that's ultimately the charm of Momofuku: it's captures a loose, natural Elvis Costello, somebody that hasn't been captured on record in years. It's still a Costello that plugs Lexus, writes operas and plays jazz festivals, but here he's not trying to prove anything, he's just making music and that's why it's one of his most enjoyable latter-day records.

Home Before Dark offers aesthetic proof that "12 Songs" was no fluke. This is a much stronger, less "civilized" album.

Despite the occasional misstep, Scream shows that the bandmembers are ready and able to embrace their growing abilities.

The bottom line is that this diversity is not a lack of focus, but growth and development that make the band stand out from the pack, making the effort to spin this a few times yield very big rewards.

This is a stunning set, with lots of lyrical meat to chew on, and music to give one chills.

It's some of Firewater's angriest, most poignant, and most accomplished music.

It will take a minimum of several spins all the way through to even try to grasp all that's going on here. It's fair to say that perhaps you shouldn't have to work that hard, yet there is no real work involved; there is only delight, amusement, humor, and sometimes awe.

Her second act is ceaselessly enjoyable, one of the finer R&B albums to be released in 2008.

Here, the sad sounds aren't quite so soothing, but that human element of Portishead gives them a sense of comfort, just as it intensifies their sense of mystery, for it is the flaws--often quite intentional--that give this an unknowable soul and make Third utterly riveting and endlessly absorbing.

Even if Kensington Heights is the Constantines' least satisfying album, the band's sound is never less than mighty; it's just disappointing how easy it is to let so many songs here fade into the background

Jim is most reminiscent of the Southern deep soul of the late '60s, although recorded so well (and so dry) that it betrays its lineage. Add to that an assortment of unobtrusive guests (including Nikka Costa, Gonzales, Peaches, and Alex Acuña) and the result is a record that reveals soul and sincerity.

Robyn defines what she's all about. Even if it took a few years to put together the label and album (and a few more to get it released everywhere), this is the pop tour de force that Robyn has always had in her.

Hard Candy is as a rare thing: a lifeless Madonna album.

This is music that looks outward at the pan-continental landscape while staying firmly adherent to and respectful of its deeply American roots; this is the emerging--and hopeful--face of the new millennium, and an altogether shining accomplishment.

An album that's both revelatory and full of questions, an album that understands its place in the Roots' history and American history, and an album that continues to place the group as one of the country's most talented and relevant in any genre, no calculated crossover necessary.

While the American Smile is a worthy follow-up to Rainbow and Pink, it's the Japanese version of the album that makes it a masterpiece.

Bittersweet and poignant, The Evangelist is Robert Forster's most fully realized, seamless, and masterfully articulated solo record yet.

It's a partially successful successor to "Yeah!," following through on some of the overall feel and punch but lacking enough songs to truly bring it across the goal line.

All these happy concessions, along with the strong emphasis on instrumental interplay, give Mudcrutch the feeling of a true band effort, and even if it's not perfect--it is indeed possible to amble and ramble just a little bit too much--it's thoroughly winning because of its imperfections, as this is music that's all about cruising down the back roads on a sunny nostalgic day.

Nine Lives is deeper, heartier, and braver lyrically than anything he's ever done.

For Carly Simon's fans, this will ultimately be a most welcome return to her songwriting form.

While Heloise & the Savoir Faire don't come close to the effortless flair that Blondie had with mixing these styles, Trash, Rats and Microphones still has enough, well, savoir faire to make it worth adding to the mix.

It's not that there aren't any engaging moments here--'Restless' is nicely minor and introspective, and the simplicity of 'Oh Honey' actually works quite well--but there are too many misses in between, enough to mar the good parts of Langhorne Slim, making for a sadly unfulfilling release.

Cajun Dance Party aren't doing anything too unique or special here, but they do what they do with conviction and guts--and that's enough to make this a very good debut.

The Seldom Seen Kid is Elbow's most self-assured and enjoyable album so far.

Everywhere at Once is reminiscent of what's already been done, either by the rapper himself or by another artist, almost derivative of itself, and as a whole, altogether disappointing.

The scope of Mr. Love & Justice is often modest, but it speaks with grace, wisdom, and heart, and finds Billy Bragg a bit older, a bit wiser, and still committed to fighting the good fight; it's a return to form, a step forward, and a potent reminder of why Bragg's music still matters.

So even though these tunes remain brief and concise (only one song, 'Your English Is Good,' tops the three-minute mark), they're also varied, which makes Tokyo Police Club's official debut seem less like the work of hyper-caffeinated teens and more like the promise of a smart, evolving band.

Bittersweet World is the first time that she has made a record that lives up to her happily empty persona, something that's truly fun junk.

The music is clever and catchy enough to give it merit for repeated listens. Buy the DVD first to get the full story and then pick this up for road trip sing-alongs.

Hardcore fans will be down with every cold hard minute, everybody else gets a B+ effort, and the hip-hop game as a whole gets a really good reason to save Prodigy's place at the table for the next three-and-a-half years.

Add the Night Marchers to Speedo's roll of triumphs and feel free to rank See You in Magic as one of his finest moments. It's really that good.

From the Valley to the Stars is a fairly magical trip to the center of heartache.

Liars and Prayers' only flaw may be that its unflagging intensity is almost overwhelming, given that the album is nearly an hour long, but it's still some of Zedek's most thoughtful and full-bodied work.

It isn't a disaster by any means--well-recorded, enthusiastic sounding songs are always a treat--but it's in the end pleasant, not striking.

Like so much of "Emancipation" and E=MC2, which is a virtual replica of its predecessor in almost every way, 'Touch My Body' is all about sound, rhythm, and texture and not so much about song, something that helps sustain Mariah Carey's run at the top the charts, but something that also pushes melodic hooks, and in the process singing, into the background.

As super-stylized as its sounds and emotions are, Saturdays=Youth always seems genuine, even when it feels like its songs are made from the memories of other songs.

Everything about this album shouts masterpiece, a set that will thrill listeners for years, nay decades, to come.

At this point, Lady Antebellum is a group that seems to know the basics of contemporary country but isn't ready to move beyond them or redefine them for its own ends. Still, this is a good beginning.

Even with a few stumbles, Raise the Dead is among Phantom Planet's most enjoyable albums.

Despite relying on too many tricks from the Daft Punk playbook, they prove there's more up their sleeve than just vocoders.

Hellbent on pushing the envelope, Newcombe shines as a prolific madman once again and as recycled as the ideas are, My Bloody Underground is a fantastic new direction and a forward thinking album that indicates that however combustible, there is a lot more life left in BJM, in any incarnation.

It's intriguing that Live in Liverpool is the Gossip's first release for Columbia's Red Ink imprint--it's not exactly an ideal introduction to the Gossip's fiery music, but it is a great testament to why fans are so devoted to the band.

Just Us Kids is an album very much of its time that also speaks to the larger ideas of life in America in an uncertain age, and it's brave, smart, and pithy music that captures James McMurtry at the top of his game.

It's a highly polished, professional sounding debut, with Lewis hitting all the right notes even when she warbles up and down the scale.

What it all comes down to is that Dig!!! Lazarus Dig!!! is a Bad Seeds record that ups the ante once again.

It's meant to be taken as surface, perhaps skimmed for samples, but generally to be used as mildly unsettling mood music--a specialty of Reznor's, to be sure, but he's better and scarier when his ideas are more finely honed than they are here.

And, though the album covers a lot of territory--13 songs in 36 minutes!--it doesn't feel scattered; scattered implies no purpose, but Mountain Battles' songs land, eventually, exactly where they need to.

The two guitars pick out cascading notes--never chords--against one another, the bass borrows from both Interpol and Gang of Four, and Philippakis' voice cries out in repetition wonderfully, but it's these occasional horn bursts, the electronic chops and blips, that truly complete the songs, making "Antidotes" not merely a lesson in post-new wave noodling, but evidence of the power and excitement of the genre and music itself.

Walk It Off is hardly a disaster, but it is a strange, lopsided album--despite its focus, it just doesn't play to Tapes 'n Tapes strengths as much as it should have.

Do It! finds Clinic getting curiouser and curiouser, but that's the direction that suits them best.

It's still not exactly accessible, but it's their easiest listen to date, and a damn amazing and amusing one, if you're feeling creative.

Sings Live! is not a landmark album, nor even a superb "live" album, but the sound quality is decent enough (though the "acoustic guitar through the board" is a bit disappointing), and Meloy is a jovial host with his adoring fans, who ultimately this collection of songs was released for.

The only problem with the record is that there are no stand-out tracks.... That could be a fatal flaw except that the overall quality of the record is so high and the sound is so perfect, you don't feel like there is something so terribly important missing.

To be sure, In Ghost Colours is a triumph of craftsmanship rather than vision--a synthesis and refinement of existing sounds rather than anything dramatically new and original--but it is an unalloyed triumph nonetheless, and one of the finest albums of its kind.

Mixing and matching funk, rock, and soul with a little jazz and blues, and enhanced on occasion by some seamlessly incorporated electronics, Boo! delivers robust party material with plenty of straight-faced, sidesplitting/head-scratching humor...precisely what you'd expect from them, then.

For every tempest like "Lassoo" or "Neptune's Call," there's an unabashedly pretty moment like the almost serene "Wooden Heart" or "Sovereign," either of which would have been completely out of place on Cuts Across the Land — but it's the depth, power, and flair of moves like these that make Neptune the real introduction to the Duke Spirit.

The majority of X is exactly what it's meant to be: a collection of songs by a pop artist who is aware of her past achievements and doubly aware of her need to stay relevant in the face of unwanted diversion.

Recommending this album seems too light a course of action; requiring it may be more apt. Consider Hold on Now, Youngster...highly required, then.

On Last Night, Moby is as blissfully out of touch with modern club music as he is current.

To be sure, it's an accomplishment and one that showcases the Black Keys' deepening skills but at times it's hard not to miss how the duo used to grab a listener by the neck and not let go.

As comebacks go, that's relatively modest, but the very modesty of Accelerate is what makes it such a successful rebirth as R.E.M. no longer denies what they were or what they are, and, in doing so, they offer a glimpse of what they could be once again.

There are no surprises, but when you do something this well, there doesn't need to be.

The riffs are huge, the rhythms are sneaky and brutal, and the "guitarmonies" are effortless, due with little doubt to the band's epic touring schedule. In fact, everything's been turned up, except the vocals.

Kozelek is simply continuing on his way here, but that said, to stand apart from all the superlatives and just get lost in his creation here, he has made the best record of his career.

They are all solid examples of the band's unique blend of indie sweetness, psychedelic experimentation, and solid songcraft.

The trademark Proclaimers sound was still there, including the finger-snapping opening title track, the staccato guitar that introduces "In Recognition," and the thoughtful lyrics, discussing religion on 'New Religion' and 'If There's a God.'

To a large extent, the music on Shine a Light confirms this to be true, proving that the band retains a remarkable alchemy that has deepened over the years.

Nothing here is as gripping or as perfect as "Rock Lobster," "Private Idaho," or "Love Shack," and the songs that are borderline filler get pushed into one big forgettable lump towards the end of the album.

This is a deliriously jumbled, left-field delight.

Saturday Nights and Sunday Mornings is a rock record in the grandest and most polished sense of the word: it wears its lineage proudly, and imparts emotions directly and brazenly honestly no matter how pretty or shiny the picture is.

"Broken Boy Soldiers" lacked tunes like these, tunes with considerable weight, and these songs turn Consolers of the Lonely into a lop-sided, bottom-loaded album that's better and richer than their debut.

The simple arrangements and hands-off production add to the gentle but decisive impact of The Good Life, and the result is a fine calling card for a young singer/songwriter who may not have worked out every last detail of his sound but clearly knows where he's going, and it happens to be a place worth visiting.

The record has a sizeable amount of drama or gravitas as well.

While Elf Power haven't started to turn into Steely Dan on us, after a dozen years Elf Power has a lineup that can lay down a solid groove, add tasty guitar and keyboard accents and generally sound like a for-real band rather than a music fan's goof.

Silver Mount Zion were already way ahead of many of their contemporaries, but 13 Blues for Thirteen Moons sees them blazing past even further, up and away, to some unexplored, perhaps dangerous, but tremendously exciting new horizons of artistic expression.

Great Vengeance and Furious Fire is too uneven to be great, but its handful of fantastic singles makes for an extremely promising debut.

Red is at its best when it mines the new wave/Europop of Level 42 and Ultravox, especially on the infectious 'Clarion,' but those moments are few and far between.

Still, the best songs have more than enough energy and creativity to prevent this album from being an Awkward sophomore slump.

Beat Pyramid begins and ends in the middle of the same sentence, literally and figuratively, but it doesn't come across as contrived or insincere, thanks mostly to Barnett, who conveys his words in a manner that is simultaneously solemn and half-winking, as if he knows they could be totally wrong, but he's going to say them like they're all he's got left, anyway.

Midnight Boom is the Kills' most consistent, varied, and inventive album yet, and proof that passion and creativity trump cool any day.

On Trouble in Dreams, Bejar and Destroyer have also shown that they can continue to write the literate, complex songs they and their audience love and expand and explore new melodic territory successfully.