Their heavenly mix of mix of giddy silliness, pop smarts and pop culture overload makes Hey Hey My My Yo Yo a fun-filled, joyride from beginning to end.

Eisley's mix of old and new, and accessible and unexpected, makes their music utterly charming, and Combinations is a blend of bewitching contradictions.

Though it lacks their star power and radio-ready hooks, it offers instead songs that are written and sung with a heartfelt authenticity neither McGraw nor Hill can rival.

Sheff has proven himself again and again to be a gifted wordsmith, and Stage Names features some of his finest parlor room romanticisms and slacker-poet observations to date.

Sojourner is an aptly titled monolith, one that invites fans of Magnolia Electric Co. with a "thank you for believing," even as it urges them to take in more of the picture than ever before.

Not bad at all, but unless you're a die-hard fan you'll want to be a little selective.

It's hard to call an album this spirited and alive irrelevant.

The album includes a handful of well-placed and effectual guest contributors, including Bilal, Dwele, Lily Allen, Common's dad, and the one and only Primo. Still, it's a shade less satisfying than "Be."

Which may make it a change of pace for Korn, but it sure doesn't break them out of their midlife slump--if anything, it exacerbates it.

There is much to like about Cookies: Jackie McKeown has a perfect yelping voice to pull off the sarcastic, knowing and sassy lyrical pose, the band is tight and raw but able to rein things in on funky tunes like 'Arcade Precinct,' and Butler keeps things quite simple and gets a remarkably punchy sound out of the trio.

Amid the many features and incredible dynamism that mark every UNKLE full-length, there are no songs to grab onto and little of real essence.

Planet Earth is the sound of a working musician working, which makes it a bit of a passing pleasure, yet there's no denying that it is indeed a pleasure having him turn out solid records like this that build upon his legacy, no matter how modestly.

Underclass Hero is ingratiating enough as background music—it's hooky enough to have momentum but not enough to linger in the memory—but they've never sounded quite so toothless and it's all down to this increased ambition.

The only thing lacking after the debut were the pop songs. This was evident with each successive proper album, but this flaw is put into too sharp of a relief on Absolute Garbage.

The songs on the album complement each other, play off the other's strengths, and make the record very much an entity, instead of simply a collection of tracks, setting it off as an impressive step forward in their already commendable discography.

Is Is may not be the Yeah Yeah Yeahs' most immediately accessible music, but it is some of their most compelling work in some time

The Broken String ups the ante considerably, reworking ten songs from the EP cycle and two new cuts into lustrous indie pop notable for its versatility, clever lyrics, and offbeat instrumentation.

The bottom line is that The Horseshoe Curve becomes--perhaps unintentionally--one of the finest moments of Anastasio's post-Phish solo career. This one is absolutely essential not only for his fans, but for anyone interested in any of the above musics. A must.

The production is still huge and full, although audiophiles may be disturbed by the overdriven acoustic guitars on certain songs that give an unnerving sensation of blown speaker cones. It's a forgivable stylistic decision, and doesn't detract much from the overall solidarity of the disc.

Young Modern is a highly ambitious work that happily jumps from glam rock to sweeping orchestral pastiches and almost everywhere in between.

Those the Brokes is a looser, livelier album than its predecessor, significantly less cloying and precious than the debut.

We Are the Night is no departure, although it does reveal Tom Rowlands and Ed Simons showing some build-to-suit character instead of angling for the straitjacket-tight and over-serious dance music of their past ten years.

O pure musical terms they're more gripping than many of their peers, displaying a restless sense of musicality that often makes Paper Walls interesting even if means they can stray toward areas that are just a shade too indulgent for their own good.

This is a decent album; it bears a craftsman-like solidity and many fans will no doubt be satisfied (and, more than that, happy) with it. But <i>An End Has a Start</i> is simply not the best album Editors are capable of putting together.

Calling the World might not be radically inventive, but its solid songcraft and playful shout-outs to rock history are a lot of fun.

With each album, the Cribs have gotten a little sharper and more focused, and nowhere is this clearer than on the brilliantly named Men's Needs, Women's Needs, Whatever, the band's major-label debut.

Beauty & Crime is, without reservation, the defining creative moment of Suzanne Vega's career thus far.

The mere fact they've been able to come together to make an album as solid and coherent as Rise to Your Knees is little short of miraculous, but it pales in comparison to the Meat Puppets best music and suggests that they still have a ways to go before they're fully back in fighting shape.

Corgan repeatedly buries his threadbare melodies beneath squeals of guitar that are too processed to either soar or sear. More than anything, it's this digitally dulled sound that saps Zeitgeist from any impact it may have.

It feels like half of an album by a band making sure their songs that fit the mold of what they've done before, and half of an album by a band using their major-label leverage to push their boundaries.

Concise and lively, Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga is a remarkable blend of focus and creativity.

Admirably random samples dug up from underground sources like '70s Italian prog-rockers Goblin, combined with a reckless abandon and an adherence to melodic hooks, makes Cross one of the most interesting electro-crossovers since Ratatat, and the guys in Justice do an excellent job building on Daft Punk's innovative foundation.

Time on Earth a haunting yet comforting affair that is quite unique in Neil Finn's body of work, yet functions as an oddly appropriate, utterly worthy, comeback as Crowded House.

The second half of The Else is so good that it's a little frustrating that the entire album isn't this solid. Still, there are more than enough good moments to keep longtime fans happy.

Goodbye is striking and rewarding in its own way; it just might take a little more time to sink into the murky new agey abyss.

Three Easy Pieces is the sort of reunion album that happened for the right reasons - because these players still work well together and have good songs to share - and anyone who ever cared about this frequently underrated band will want to hear them in this impressive return to form.

This is a remarkably mature and impressive debut from an artist who seems like he's just getting started and his best stuff lies ahead of him.

Super Taranta! is the culmination of superb musicianship, endless energy, and an inborn sense of fun and a dedication to progression and innovation, and if that's not something to celebrate and dance to, it's hard to know what is.

New Wave is crisp, direct, and sharp. It's clean, but not glossy; it's defiant; it's brash; it's heartfelt.

It's an orchestral record for those who prefer the simplistic, a darker one for those who prefer theirs twee, love songs for the scorned and sad songs for the content, an engaging and alluring combination that makes Marry Me nearly irresistible, and one of the better indie pop albums that's come around for a long time.

It is a fetching 40-minute album, with each song supplying its own set of penetrating hooks, ear-ticklingly sharp guitars, moody synthesizer gauze, and mobile rhythms.

It finds that the guys don't just still have it, but they sound goddamn rejuvenated, bristling with electric energy and undeniable fervor.

This record is more cohesive than the debut, partially due to the presence of Weiland's old STP producer, Brendan O'Brien, who lends the recording color and texture that enhances the melodies while still giving the guitars considerable muscle.

The material tends to be kind of insidious, rather than hitting you immediately or going through one ear and out the other, and it's significantly more R&B-oriented.

The album is generally enjoyable, and it's doubtful T.I. has to worry about being dethroned within the near future.

Easy Tiger delivers what it promises: the most Ryan Adamsy Ryan Adams record since his first.

The Mix Up is not a major statement, but that's the nice thing about the record: it's as personal and idiosyncratic as any old funky soul-jazz LP that you'd find deep in the crates of a second-hand record store.

While Bad Brains never quite match the intensity of their early days, this is easily the best record they've released since Quickness.

It takes time to make music as effortless and elegant as this, to construct songs this finely detailed.

There are no hooks, nothing to suck in the many adults that liked Clarkson's first two records.

Even though there certainly are a few tracks ("Swift and Unforgiving," "Hey, Thanks," and "Apartment") distinctly lacking for a little more oomph in their execution, the album's overall balance is overwhelmingly positive at the end of the day.

Desire is a taut and focused work that energizes, packed densely with typically Monch-like quotables that might take a couple listens to catch.

In all, it's a winner, a solid, consistently crafted "new country" record that wears rock & roll proudly on its sleeve.

The melodies are far more varied than on previous outings, and the sense of dynamics and balance of tension in these songs -- and the arrangements that accompany them -- are the most sophisticated this group has ever pulled off.

With its fuller sound and relaxed flights of fancy, Icky Thump is a mature, but far from stodgy, album -- and, as is usually the case, it's just great fun to hear the band play.

There's a delicateness to Golden Pollen, in the double- and triple-tracked vocals, the soft instrumentation.

It's a Bit Complicated proves that Art Brut are masters of writing pop songs about loving pop songs passionately.

Sometimes it's electronic music you can rock to, sometimes it's neo-disco tech-house you can sing with, but it's always the fringe of dance-pop at its peak put together in a razor-sharp package.

Even with the band, what comes through most clearly is Votolato's voice, which is better than ever here, rough and emotive, honest to a fault.

Lost Highway recalls nothing so much as a latter-day Bon Jovi record in how it balances fist-pumping arena anthems with heavy doses of sentiment.

It's exhilarating, the best rock & roll record yet released in 2007.

The sound quality is ultra-clean, it makes the listening experience relatively risk-free and also brings attention to the fact that there's not a lot of ground being broken here.

If musical adventurousness and short attention spans are viewed as positive attributes, then these 13 short songs offer ample rewards.

Someone to Drive You Home is one of those albums that's honest to goodness fun, and pulling it off with as much pastiche as the Long Blondes makes it one of the year's nicest arrivals.

On the surface, it's bright and accessible, as easy to enjoy as the best of Paul's solo albums, but it lingers in the heart and mind in a way uncommon to the rest of his work, and to many other latter-day albums from his peers as well.

Three consecutive Timbaland productions, including one suited for a black college marching band and another that effectively pulls the romantically co-dependent heartstrings, enhance the album rather than make it more scattered.

A little exposure to his constantly morphing flat baritone goes a long way.

Another beautiful record that stands right alongside the group's best work.

A stellar accomplishment from a truly singular band.

As focused as it is ambitious, Boxeris riveting.

Mirrored is unlike any recording out there at the moment. It's loud, funny, and astonishingly sophisticated, and doesn't feel pretentious in the least.

Those whose favorite form of Wheat is the aforementioned major-label effort, or even the elegant chamber pop of Hope and Adams, might consider this willful album an exercise in self-indulgent noise, but in the context of the duo's career as a whole, it sounds much more like a deliberate stylistic retrenchment.

The Bravery are an easy target -- after all, they were often seen as also-rans even when their kind of music was the hot new thing -- but, unfortunately, The Sun and the Moon's hesitant, unfocused feel doesn't do much to dissuade that notion.

If some of the ballads aren't as distinguished as the livelier tracks, they nevertheless are as sharply crafted as the rest, and the end result is that It Won't Be Soon Before Long is that rare self-stylized blockbuster album that sounds as big and satisfying as was intended.

Even if Lies for the Liars has the appearance of a crossover album, a la The Black Parade, it doesn't have the substance.

Where Wolf Parade dips into more than their fair share of upbeat, even disco beat-driven, music, Handsome Furs instead pull back and strip down their songs.

While Erasure certainly didn't need the "return to form" album at this point in their career, they nailed it and brought better songwriting along for the ride.

As lyrically eclectic and clever as it is musically, this is one fascinating album.

It isn't everyday one comes across an honest, and honestly surprising, set of love songs such as this.

While these songs are lushly produced, often with full orchestration, and while Wainwright has a knack for pretty, lilting melodies and concrete imagery there is nonetheless a distinct lack of pop hooks here.

Sky Blue Sky may find Wilco dipping their toes into roots rock again, but this doesn't feel like a step back so much as another fresh path for one of America's most consistently interesting bands.

Tio Bitar is Dungen's most realized album yet and should resonate with anyone who likes rock music at all.

This is as good as it gets right now; it'll be the country album to beat in 2007.

Funeral for a Friend not only displays an increased sense of ambition on this sweeping great leap forward, they also display a greater sense of accomplishment, as writers and musicians.

It finds the perfect balance between the vibrancy of her poppier work in the '90s and her experiments in the 2000s.

God Save the Clientele is another stroke of magic from a band that has few peers in delivering music that can make or break your heart with a vocal inflection, swath of strings, or gentle arpeggio, music that can devastate you in one breath and lift you to the heavens with the next.

No Shouts, No Calls might be some of Electrelane's most accessible work, but it's far from safe; in fact, its sweet vulnerability is exactly what makes it so special.

Another gorgeous album.

Though some of the songs here, especially the earlier ones, can be quite simple, even raw at times, there's a sad, clean sweetness that comes through despite the occasional bit of tape hiss, of tinny chords.

Honestly, none of it makes a lick of sense, but unlike, say, the Beta Band -- whose entire shtick was that the parts of their music never fit into a coherent whole -- there's a shapeliness to Zootime that suggests the record was constructed from some inscrutable blueprint that's just naggingly out of reach.

Human the Death Dance may be his most personal effort, but it's also an incredibly well-built full-length -- even when it borrows from a handful of genres -- and it's arguably his best lyrical effort, undoubtedly his best production-wise.

Strength & Loyalty doesn't overcome its challenges; it just sidesteps them and works hard to reward fans for a decade of patience.

Spellbinding.

Anyone who has already decided that jazz is dead, that the great innovators have come and gone, needs to listen to the Bad Plus to be proven dead wrong.

Send Away the Tigers never seem heavy-handed, which is something that even their best albums often are. So, this isn't merely a return to form, then--it's also a welcome progression from a band that only a couple of albums back seemed stuck in a rut with no way out.

The Magic Position loses a little focus near the end, but flashes of inspired lunacy like the jarring arrival of a spectral Marianne Faithfull on the spooky "Magpie" help to make this unpredictable collection of Victorian-peaked electro/folk-pop so hard to dislike.

Her musical vision and production skills are almost astonishing in places. [But] American Doll Posse is a work that has its problems due to its sprawling nature.

A painfully disappointing artistic failure.