DYLRM should be a mess, but the band has crafted a wintry, nuanced, and bold collection of epic songs that integrate the sweeping theatricality of Arcade Fire-era indie rock without all of the insularity.

The whining hasn't let up (see 'No Love' and 'Generation'), but the fun hasn't either. Credit the producers.

So while Free Somehow can't quite rival the energy of a Widespread show, it still offers something that those concerts cannot, making the album a worthwhile purchase for most dedicated fans.

They're still a quirky band, no doubt, but now they're using those quirks to make their most accomplished album to date.

Crow hasn't been this free or fine since "Sheryl Crow," but there is an emotional directness on Detours that makes this a progression, not a retreat.

So even when Lucky tries to turn down the glow, it still radiates with the oomph of a solid power pop release, making Nada Surf's fifth album a fine finale for a weekend well-spent.

Many of her fans will no doubt be delighted with this artful yet accessible return, and hopefully, those who embraced the younger, wackier, campy aspect of lang's persona will allow for the fact that there isn't anything close to that here.

No matter what instrument he's playing or what he's singing about, his music still feels the same, which is enough to satisfy his fans but not to win him many new ones.

By the measure of pure sound, It Is Time for a Love Revolution is a glorious feast of retro-rock pleasures--a feast of empty calories, perhaps, but sometimes fast food is more irresistible than a five-course meal.

It's a consolidation of Mould's considerable strengths, an album that showcases his gifts as a writer and record-maker, one that touches upon almost every phase of his career, yet it's filtered through a maturity that feels vital because of its unadorned honesty.

It may be considerably more commercial than their first album, but Promises Promises is, crucially, also much, much better.

Where the group used to sound like a bulldozer demolishing rubble, now they're more like a snow plow gently shoving away a winter wonderland. It's still good, but isn't stoner rock supposed to sound destructive?

High-pitched coos gatecrash the song's chorus like they've just been kicked out of the Rolling Stones' "Sympathy for the Devil," and a harmonized keyboard solo injects a bit of the Steve Miller Band into an otherwise minimalist, Southern-styled slow jam. Such unexpected moves seem to be a new thing for Collett, and they combine to make this his strongest solo effort yet.

Whatever the case may be, what's left is a record with some promise but too many flaws to be truly enjoyable.

Circular Sounds is altogether smoother than the musician's previous work, but it's far from slick, packed with enough grit (note the slightly off-key horns in 'Everything Begins') and solid songcraft to set itself apart from the retro-rock catalog.

Really though, just about any song could be singled out for praise. It's that strong of an album, strong enough to satisfy a desire for tattered glamour, for dramatic, inspired and powerful guitar rock that kind that only maybe the Bad Seeds at their best could once conjure up.

This should have been the album where the Mars Volta either wore the formula down to nothing or abruptly turned in a different direction, but instead the band created an album that nearly perfects what they've been working toward.

Fully realized debut albums like Vampire Weekend come along once in a great while, and these songs show that this band is smart, but not too smart for their own good.

Nobody else sounds like Xiu Xiu, and they've made themselves even more singular on this album.

He can certainly sing, but years of providing seamless harmonies for Gibbard have given his pipes a clear, breathy quality that threatens to lull the listener into a trance during the album's final stretch.

Rain balances sophistication and edgy smarts with a winning mixture of grace and confidence.

If "Love and Distance" was the album that pushed the Helio Sequence off the rails, Keep Your Eyes Ahead is the sound of the duo getting back on track.

The moments of rocked-out swagger are fleeting and ultimately drowned out by a musical and lyrical heaviness that turns the album into a real downer.

Protest the Hero is having fun with their creativity here, and Fortress is a better album for it.

As for this being a Shelby Lynne record, its quality and confidence is unassailable.

You get a lot of elastic, post-punk guitar explorations (à la Mission of Burma)--as evidenced by such standouts as the album opening 'Your Movement' and 'Tremble.' But then just when you think you have the Shackelton lads figured out, the Joy Division-ish 'Soft Heart' comes peaking around the corner.

While this is a forward-thinking and cerebral affair, as Yoav has a love of dance music, he often works with funky grooves and rhyming lyrics that should appeal to fans with a club-oriented aesthetic.

It sounds counterintuitive, but the unconventional nature of Human Bell is the very thing that holds it back.

By far the tightest record SFA has released since "Radiator"--boasting no song over five minutes and four clocking in under three--this is a concise, song-oriented record, which is somewhat ironic since it began its life as something as a concept album.

Natasha Bedingfield is a genuine pop talent who often flashes hints of a greater than average ambition that could turn her into something more substantial than the likes of Rhianna, but the awkwardly assembled Pocketful of Sunshine feels inorganic in a way that Unwritten did not, less personal and more vetted by various A&R executives.

Nimol's vocals are as beguiling as ever, Ethan Holtzman's Farfisa organ still swirls, Zac Holtzman's guitars still chime and chunk, and Paul Dreux Smith's drums clang happily along.

It's packed with stuff, but there's enough space here, and wonderfully warm atmospheres, to bring the listener right into the deeper sonic dimensions that Black Mountain is trying to create.

Uneven as it may be, Jukebox is still a worthwhile portrait of Chan Marshall's artistry.

Less than three weeks into 2008 it's hard not to escape the feeling that with this disc we may already have the best album of the year.

They have enough clatter and commotion to keep Mission Control moving at a brisk pace, but they could use some extra oomph.

The joy and silliness are enough to keep the record out of sleazy Har Mar Superstar territory, but it also means that there is a serious lack of substance on the record.

Despite the ever-present irony, the songs never feel insincere and the record is inherently strong throughout, making it a solid start to their career.

Matt Costa's sophomore effort, Unfamiliar Faces, finds the singer/songwriter delving into similar territory to his 2006 debut, "Songs We Sing," crafting hummable, somewhat intricate AM pop-influenced tracks.

A winsome and not entirely stable treat.

Here was a chance to show that the music was worthy, too. With a singing style in the cockney accent of Lily Allen or Kate Nash, he differentiated himself from these singers by actually playing the guitar himself, with mixture of skiffle and ska

The Portrait Is Finished and I Have Failed to Capture Your Beauty blends influences from two generally antithetical musical subgenres--hippie psych-folk and '80s U.K. art pop--into a languid, low-key whole that's perfect for both lazy, cozy lie-ins and middle-of-the-night headphone listening.

The 14 songs here seem stronger upon each listen, with the songs soon seeming indelible.

It's a double-sided hook that clears the murkiness from the remaining five tracks, while simultaneously improving the first half (especially tracks like 'California Girls' and 'Please Stop Dancing') when spun for a second or third time.

Liverpool 8 is a relaxed, amiable collection of friendly pop tunes: it's nothing too flashy and it has no one tune that calls attention to itself, but it's a well-constructed, casually charming pop record.

This is a significant improvement over "The Love Experience" in every respect--somehow displaying an increase in both modesty and ambition, as well as offering a more refined yet bolder set of material.

What impresses the most about Made of Bricks are her deft sketches of deteriorating relationships.

The newly varied arrangements, moods, and textures of this album, from the mournful piano-led cover of the Kinks' 'I Go to Sleep' through the horn-based R&B swing of 'Electric Bird' to the sarcastic bounce of 'The Girl You Lost to Cocaine,' make Some People Have Real Problems Sia's most engrossing and satisfying album yet.

Angels of Destruction! is an album that brims with joy, rage, and adventure, and deserves your attention.

She has been able to do what few others before her have: cater to her crossover audience without losing the essence of what she really is and where she came from, and so all of Growing Pains, from its upbeat beginning to its reflective, personal ending (though the last track, 'Come to Me [Peace]' is the only real miss on the entire album), doesn't seem forced or calculated.

Even considering the over-abundance of elaboration on all fronts, it's a credit to Lupe that he has made an album that cannot be processed after one or two listens, and if you have the time, its inscrutability turns into mere complexity.

Alone will stand as an idiosyncratic gem in his catalog, showcasing him at his eccentric best.

Whether they love it or hate it. It is a departure from previous releases and it does focus on melody and guitars and strings, but it is also lush and well-crafted and smart and addictive.

In stretches, it's perfectly entertaining, yet most of it goes in one ear and out the other, not leaving much in the memory.

As on their first two classic full-lengths, Thomas Bangalter and Guy-Manuel de Homem-Christo display excellent crowd control, pacing the record well, spacing the hits, and building the mood like the good crowd-pleasers they are.

Carnival, Vol. 2 strives to give the immigration problem a face, turning those thousands of marchers seen on the news into a thousand personal stories of struggle and hope. It does so while pulsating with life and displaying an unabashed love of music that's rich, daring, and delightful.

"Misstep" is certainly a word too harsh for The Big Doe Rehab, which is more "uneventful" than "wrong."

ADD is certainly one of the more interesting AmIdol-related records, but so much commotion without construction is ultimately as forgettable as Jordin's pageant-winner trifle, and perhaps a little more tiring to get through, too.

So while the performance isn't perfect, particularly toward the end of the show (where, after two hours of performing swing tunes and jazz standards, Wainwright is understandably low on steam), it's still nice to hear the singer in his element, crooning about dinging trolleys and zinging heartstrings with flamboyancy that only he can muster.

M.A.D.E. is Scarface doing everything right, delivering those cold, hardcore rhymes over uncomplicated, soulful beats.

The Boatlift [is] a fun floor-filler, but just not up to Pitbull's usual standards.

Winehouse's record has the feeling of being allowed to grow on its own--without being meddled with and fussed over.

On Idol, all this unformed youthfulness was endearing, but on this debut she just seems green, not quite ready for the big leagues she's been pushed into.

These eight songs may not be able to be covered by anybody else, but they are wonderfully constructed, beautifully textured, and exquisitely played.

While not all of the remixes hit these heights, overall it's a fun set, and a good complement to the eclecticism of D-Sides' first disc.

Even with the amount of expectation-lowering context heavy on the mind, Free at Last sounds like a very strong follow-up.

While the balancing act between the Hives' new and old approaches is a little lopsided, making this album less amazing than "Tyrannosaurus Hives," The Black and White Album should satisfy most fans while giving them a few challenging moments to chew on, too.

While Duran Duran have worked steadily since their 1993 comeback, "The Wedding Album," they haven't always sounded as stylish and creatively tuned-in as they do on 2007's Red Carpet Massacre.

It's an album of its time: it offers extravagance in the guise of self-help, which can be alluring in doses--especially those bizarre blues-rockers--but it's just too much of a very expensive yet not particularly tasteful thing.

System goes down smooth, even if it's rather strange that it is so nostalgic for the pre-Clinton '90s, but this is so much a production piece that, apart from the acoustic 'Rolling,' the only song that stands outside of the sheer sonic gloss is 'Wedding Day,' a genuinely odd piece of kitsch duet with Heidi herself.

And so even though As I Am is a flawed work--a little too poppy, a little too clichéd--it is also indicative of what Keys can and will do, and that she is someone, thanks to her curiosity, intelligence, and natural talent, who will be able to mature and grow for years to come

Sawdust does indeed contain some moments of grand pomp, but its scattershot nature works against the band as it winds up emphasizing the lingering question from "Sam's Town," that the group has a hell of a lot of ideas but they just don't know what the hell to do with them.

It can be inaccessible and terrifying all at once, but in a genre overly saturated with formulaic groups, Ire Works is a true standout.

The material tends to work best when they sound relatively relaxed, as opposed to when it is obvious that they are trying very hard to honor the originals while being over-demonstrative with their obviously gifted voices.

With Intoxication, Shaggy has once again found that perfect balance of slick and streetwise, and added career-defining single number three as the cherry on top.

This is a very good Jay-Z album. He is, for the most part, doing what he has done before: what he does best.

Hvarf/Heim isn't the album to mark a musical departure for Sigur Rós.

I-Empire is an easier record to like than "We Don't Need to Whisper," as it marks a very small, very tentative progression toward DeLonge realizing that he can expand his sonic and emotional horizons without abandoning the pop songcraft that remains his greatest strength

Smoke never sounds dated or rehashed--instead, it's a fresh, consistently creative, and consistently listenable debut.

If you can appreciate the style of dubstep employed by Burial, it's easy to fall head over heels for Untrue, an album on which there are absolutely no mainstream-crossover concessions, no ego trips, and no willful stylistic variation--an album where the music, a singular style of it, takes center stage with no distractions or sideshows, where there's never the urge to skip to the next track, because they're all part and parcel of the greater whole.

Blackout is state-of-the-art dance-pop, a testament to skills of the producers and perhaps even Britney being somehow cognizant enough to realize she should hire the best, even if she's not at her best.

While their willingness to experiment is admirable, despite the fact that they've gone overboard with their overdubs, the overabundance of studio polish leaves one to wonder if it's not because the songs just aren't as strong this time around.

The album is savvier still, crafted to evoke the spirit and feel of the Eagles' biggest hits.

Backstreet Boys don't have any songs that will lift them out of the adult contemporary world--but the audience who has turned from teens to adults with them will likely enjoy its easy sound, as there is nothing bad here. There's just nothing great, either.

Dirt Farmer is a hard-edged but compassionate and full-hearted set of roots music from a master of the form, and it's a welcome, inspiring return to form for Levon Helm after a long stretch of professional and personal setbacks.

It may take multiple spins for a few songs to really find their footing with fans, but those people will surely be rewarded handsomely in the end.

Teenager can stand as the group's crowning glory to date.

a few songs that lag a bit, this is easily Babyshambles' best work yet.

This doesn't make for an album that holds together thematically the way other latter-day Neil albums do, but its mess is endearing.

the album is simple ear candy for those who haven't studied the band's previous releases, and sweet resolution for those who can spot the references to older songs (specifically 'Blood Red Summer') and former riffs ('The Crowing').

Sound and feel do mean a lot, but country records really survive on the strength of their songs, and the remarkable thing about Carnival Ride is that it's stronger song for song than Some Hearts, some of this due to Carrie herself, who bears four songwriting credits here, often in conjunction with some permutation of Steve McEwan and Hillary Lindsey, who pen a bunch of other tunes here.

It's an ambitious egotistical solo release, and one with the chops to pull it all off. The well placed spaces and lithe textural moments of delicate instrumental engagement and interlude prevent Elect the Dead from going by in a blur.

La Cucaracha is the sound of Ween cutting loose, reveling in the lower budget and expectations an indie label brings, and playing music that simply sounds good.

A more electronic, better built, and altogether better deal than "Monsters," thanks mostly to the singer and-don't-you-forget-to-mention songwriter's better sense of self.

What seems to be an unlikely pairing in the duo of former -- and future apparently--Led Zeppelin vocalist Robert Plant and bluegrass superstar Alison Krauss is actually one of the most effortless-sounding pairings in modern popular music.

Bemis may be seeking to defend the emo genre, but his album instead illustrates the difference between run-of-the-mill emo--which, indeed, comprises most of the genre's output--and the imaginative, skillful tunes that flourish here. The only major downside is the album's length.

Things are decidedly darker this time around; although his music has always been psychedelic, Raposa's In the Vines aligns itself more with a bad trip than lazy, woozy-eyed stoner fare.

Crucially, all these nods to Blanche's influences end up enhancing the band's uniqueness; rooted equally in the traditional and more experimental sides of Americana, country, and rock, Little Amber Bottles expands what a Blanche album can be, and it's a joy to hear.

Nice to listen to and vaguely uplifting, but ultimately empty on the inside.