Writer's Block is the work of a band at the absolute peak of its writing and performing skill.

It does signal a turn toward a more thoughtful, artistically ambitious sound than before, not just maintaining the Scottish neo-prog quartet's penchant for forward movement but catapulting them out of minor-league status.

Enough of Alright, Still works -- as pure pop and on the meta level Allen aims for -- to make the album a fun, summery fling, and maybe more.

There's definitely an unfinished and tentative feel here.

Its ragged, unfinished nature illustrates that she's more interested in pursuing her art than recycling Come Away with Me, and if this third album isn't as satisfying as that debut, it nevertheless is a welcome transitional effort that proves her artistic heart is in the right place.

Youth Group's poignant and thought-provoking lyrics and storytelling style have pushed the group into the emo bag, but with their incandescent music, they're far too glittering to be left with that label for long.

RoadKillOvercoat will certainly win him some fans who have previously avoided hip-hop, but for those same reasons, it might also cost him some, too.

Bracken makes thoughtful, reflective music, like Brian Eno, or even fellow anticon labelmates Alias or cLOUDDEAD.

Visitations may not be as immediate as Walking with Thee or Winchester Cathedral, but that's exactly what makes it intriguing -- and a welcome return to form.

As good as The Runners Four was, Friend Opportunity just might be even better.

He's orchestrated a unified, dramatic album -- it's a tapestry of impeccable, sorrowful, yet sultry soundscapes -- but given the pedigree of this band, it's hard not to wish that the album offered more of the quartet just playing, gussied up with no effect. Nevertheless, as an album The Good, the Bad & the Queen is singularly effective.

Wincing the Night Away is the sound of the Shins acknowledging where they've been and moving on to new territory, and while it probably won't change your life, it probably will make it more enjoyable.

It's a challenging yet ultimately rewarding album -- and one that definitely requires some thoughtful attention on the part of the listener.

Friend and Foe may be part unbridled energy, part thoughtful arrangement, part innovative experimentation, but it's the synthesis of these that makes it so fantastic.

When F&M stick to simple dance melodies and wound-up instrumental grooves, they're as good as anyone else out there.

Woke Myself Up captures the wide range of sounds and emotions of her music, and all the nuances of them as well.

The Enemy Chorus is a strangely formidable album, and in its own way, a daring one, too -- these songs of revenge, oppression, emptiness, and despair might puzzle some fans at first, but they certainly are impressive.

A work of absolute beauty, chaos, seductive darkness and cosmic light.

Learn to Sing Like a Star was certainly worth the wait, and if fans will listen closely enough, they'll understand that Hersh's sophistication as both a singing poet and composer has grown almost immeasurably.

Arbouretum's songs are visceral and elemental, a loose-feeling mix of blues, folk, tribal beats, stoner rock and jam-based influences that belies the solid songwriting and musicianship at its core.

So many bands confuse being laid-back with being comatose that it's good to hear a band who give their richly layered tunes some heart and soul.

Song-wise, this is a stronger album from Mellencamp than we had any right to expect, and an excellent from-the-cradle album when we need it most.

Ce is an enjoyable, finely crafted, and elegantly executed album, but at the same time very far from Caetano's best.

This is a record that gives up its secrets slowly, while being charming and delightful at every turn.

Hip Hop Is Dead is not Illmatic.

While the title of this disc seems synonymous with Have Some Leftovers, it's not at all stale, if not nearly as spectacular as its precursor.

The Destroyed Room is a creative -- and quintessentially Sonic Youth -- approach to the rarities and B-sides comp.

Jeezy does little to make this disc different from Let's Get It.

If the dance production on The Sweet Escape were better, these hipster affectations would be easier to forgive, but they're not: they're canned and bland, which only accentuates Stefani's stiffness.

As expected, there are plenty of tracks geared toward letting loose and dancing, and most of them do deliver, even if they don't seem quite as fresh as Ciara's past hits.

The Re-Up has plenty of that serious heat that influenced Eminem to go aboveground with the release.

A lean, furious, cold-blooded album that is vividly to-the-point.

On Light Grenades, they are a tightly focused, purposeful band, shifting moods and textures at the drop of a dime, proving that they have become a rare thing: a modern heavy rock band that actually grows and improves with each album.

Breaking Kayfabe is a cohesive set of songs, backpacker in the best of senses, smart and witty and provocative, experimental and well-produced, but at the same time very raw and very real-sounding.

A display of complacency and retreads.

With Beast Moans, Swan Lake has married the talent and off-kilter intelligence of all three of its members with something more abstract, more visceral, something that sets it apart from all of their individual work.

Far from being a bold reinvention, a Beatles album for the 21st century, the Martins didn't go far enough in their mash-ups.

Orphans is a major work that goes beyond the origins of the material and drags everything past and present with sound and texture into a present to be presented as something utterly new, beyond anything he has previously issued.

The Devil and God Are Raging Inside Me is the completion of their pop-punk molting process and one of the best surprises -- that isn't really a surprise at all -- to come out of 2006.

A house party celebrating Snoop's whole career.

There are moments of quirky holiday splendor -- moments akin to some of the best material on Greetings from Michigan and Illinoise -- that make plowing through the entire five-EP set a pleasure.

If you have the 2002 LTM reissues, there's no need to obtain the disc; it would be completely redundant. If you don't have them, you'll be getting the vivid gist of a sharp and short-lived band -- one that delivered brief, spastic shards of over-caffeinated post-punk with skittish vocals on the verge of spinning out of control.

Yes, Ys is a demanding listen, but it's also a rewarding and inspiring one.

So Divided's remarkable balance between the band's grandeur and power makes it far from a disappointment.

There's no precedent for an album that worships a no-show so hard on one hand, flips the bird to hip-hop protocol with the other, and knowingly refuses to push things forward, even flaunts it.

A minor but pleasantly unexpected surprise.

9 is by no means a failure, or even bad, but it dulls in comparison to what Rice can really produce, which makes it disappointing overall.

This may not be a concept album, but it's structured as a narrative, mirroring the plot of the movie. Unfortunately, this doesn't give The Pick of Destiny the weight or grandeur of a true concept album, because a lot of the music sounds as if it serves the movie, and doesn't stand tall when separated from the film.

Even with its flaws, When Your Heart Stops Beating possesses a surprising vulnerability, which gives the album an understated strength and makes it such an enjoyable listen.

[A] fascinating detour.

The man writes honest, beautifully crafted songs that are adult enough to ponder, tough enough to rock, and tender enough to pull -- not tug -- on the heartstrings.

The Evens' first disc was pointed and protesting, to be sure, but here, on Get Evens, the raw feeling of the record makes the message here more pointed, more specific, and more meaningful.

Here, as with most of her career, Harvey doesn't go for the easy choices.

An exciting introduction to an extraordinary artist captured at just the right time.

Ultimately, Saturday Night Wrist is satisfying, though it may take a few listens given all the changes in individual cuts that tend to blur together the first time or two through.

Pretty Little Head sounds like a record from a woman coming out of girlhood -- more confident, more wise about love, and more focused about her concerns, if no less passionate.

His easy delivery, contrasted with Adams wiry production, creates an emotionally honest, deeply moving recording with the best traits of both men shining forth.

No, Endless Wire is not perfect -- its parts don't quite fit together, and not all of the parts work on their own -- but it is an endearingly human, impassioned work that more than justifies Townshend's and Daltrey's decision to continue working as the Who.

That he fails is not the fault of his individual performance; it's the fault of botched execution.

The worst thing about Playing with Fire is that it's too stale and inept to inspire laughter: it can only elicit weary groans.

In the Absence of Truth is as solidly explosive and as adventuresome as Panopticon, but their elemental control over the music is greater, therefore creating a more even production.

While Once Again might not get as much attention as its predecessor, it's more assured and sounds nothing like an experiment to see what sticks.

It makes for a record that's their strongest, most cohesive yet, even if it isn't quite as weird or compelling as it should be given the group's lofty ambitions.

Sparta... sounds like a beast that's broken its chains and is fighting between the road ahead and going back from whence it came.

This captures a less self-conscious Oberst, which is often a better Oberst.

A little messier than its inspiration but with the same freewheeling spirit, the Walkmen's Pussy Cats feels like a musical wake, rooted in just having fun making music with friends.

This is by far +/-'s most mature work to date.

Calamity is slightly inconsistent and could be described as a hit-or-miss affair, but the hits outnumber the misses.

The softly spooked-out acid folk of The Pirate's Gospel is a captivating debut from Alela Diane, whose enthusiasm and ability for a then-extremely-fresh learner on guitar is quite something.

Too often, his words and melodies end up drowning in their busy surroundings.

Enigk sounds like a mixture of Peter Gabriel, U2, Sarah McLachlan, and a little bit of Elf Power, and tries too hard to be profound and meaningful.

All told, the number of memorable hooks on display here is surprising.

He is writing and recording music that is profound, funny, topical, worldly, and ultimately, necessary.

This is Gill's masterwork.

One of the livelier and better country records of 2006.

Barnes' accordion playing has grown leaps and bounds since Noon.

Young Machetes is occasionally exhausting, but it definitely won't disappoint fans of either the band's earlier or more recent sounds.

The songs themselves are easy to approach if difficult to decipher, and the production details reward repeated listens.

A quietly compelling album, this will please not only fans of Hinson's other solo work, but those who were introduced to him through the Earlies and the Late Cord as well.

The feel is late night, on the edge of quiet, and full of pathos.

Normal Happiness is more in the tradition of his best work with GBV -- sixteen short songs (only one over three minutes, seven under two), with plenty of hooks, lots of guitar and no more fuss than necessary.

Merritt doesn't deviate from his signature lo-fi synth pop and brooding vocals, but he certainly sounds like he's having a whole lot of fun.

Be Still Please is another hidden treasure from one of the truly important bands, and persons, in pop music today.

The highlights are way high, but the album as a whole is "fans-only."

Though some might find it on the meek and lightweight side, many more will likely revisit Long Island Shores again and again.

Ultimately, the band has arrived with a poppier-sounding album while their signature sour earnestness remains intact.

For the most part, the ladies have chosen not to stray too far from their plainclothes rootsy sound, and while that may disappoint some fans, there's enough quality stuff here to light a fire in every train yard oil drum from Vancouver to Halifax.

This mixture of clattering, ramshackle arrangements and smartly put-together tunes... is an intriguing new direction for a band that previously seemed more interested in artsy, diffident post-rock.

On most of Inside In/Inside Out, the band sounds like a more energetic Thrills or a looser Sam Roberts Band, maybe even a less severe Arctic Monkeys at times.

It's filled with sophisticated yet welcoming changes in texture, dynamic, and form/genre that seem effortless, not forced or idiosyncratic for its own sake.

If you give it time, The Information eventually reveals itself as Beck's tightest, most purposeful album yet.

But even if the music doesn't really work, it's hard not to listen to it in slack-jawed wonderment, since there's never been a record quite like it -- it's nothing but wrong-headed dreams, it's all pomp but no glamour, it's clichés sung as if they were myths.

This is a smoking little record. Its focus is small, its reach is large; it's a winner.

While the tracks are longer and more realized, they're still distinctly remixes instantly recognizable as DFA output -- a mark of individual distinction many remixers strive to attain but few reach.

They're a little less baroque, they're a little less depressing... but they're just as emotional and affecting, which makes Gang of Losers very good indeed.

Some cuts, like the English murder ballad "Shankill Butchers" and "Summersong"... sound like outtakes from previous records, but by the time the listener arrives at the Donovan-esque (in a good way) closer, "Sons & Daughters," the less tasty bits of The Crane Wife seem a wee bit sweeter.

Given Brown's talents, it could have been much more.

Sonically, it captures the Evanescence mythos better and more consistently than the first album... but without the songs, it doesn't resonate.