By the time we get to the end of disc two, the broad strokes have coalesced into something quite remarkable; as Williams searches through the nooks and crannies of her songs, you sense she's discovering things that she didn't expect to find, and it's a tremendous thing to hear.

Never have the usually mischievous Boredoms sounded this focused and, well, downright elegant really -- a masterful pairing of cosmic rock and spiritual jazz references.

While there's a sense that both artists went a bit too heavy on dark atmosphere, given that both usually inject more whimsy into their creations, 13 & God is still a consistently intriguing, frequently beautiful experiment that offers ample rewards with each new listen.

It's safe to say that Cold Roses is the record many fans have been waiting to hear -- a full-fledged, unapologetic return to the country-rock that made his reputation when he led Whiskeytown.

Unfortunately, although Snaith may sound novel expanding upon his indie forebears of ten years ago, when he begins conjuring the ghosts of Krautrock ("A Final Warning," "Bees") or trip-hop ("Lord Leopard"), as he does here, he's entering the company of talented producers who have ploughed the same ground.

With its imagination, startling creativity, and sheer pop soul, Oceans Apart is the first great Go-Betweens' record of the 21st century.

The group sounds a bit like Guided By Voices at times, only a Guided By Voices that want to kick your sorry can up and down the length of the bar.

While the music here isn't as good as that on Bachelor, the strict structure does help give The Forgotten Arm direction, helping shape it into one of her more consistent albums.

Quite frankly, this is the record that NIN should have released if Reznor had wanted to capitalize on the success of The Downward Spiral.

Wedding might not be Oneida's most way-out album, but it's as satisfyingly restless as anything in their catalog.

A major disappointment to say the least, Pretty in Black is such an indifferent and transparent record that it makes one reconsider the quality of the album that preceded it.

The big differences are that guitars are much more prominent than on any Soul Coughing releases, the lyrics have a more personal perspective, and the additional sounds of the album come from warmer sources like piano, Fender Rhodes and horns rather than a sampler.

Celebration Castle confirms what anyone who heard Laced With Romance suspected -- that the Ponys are growing into one of the best and most powerfully pleasurable rock bands of their generation.

Madlib has formed a tighter frame around his productions than ever before.

Homespun creativity has rarely sounded bigger -- or better -- than it does on Our Thickness.

Unfortunately, however, the adjectives that need to be attached to this record -- workmanlike, customary, unembarrassing -- aren't going to make music fans flood the record stores seeking copies.

Ultimately, it's a flimsy album; though it's pleasant enough as background music, upon closer listening it falls apart.

Blinking Lights and Other Revelations is blessed because of -- not in spite of -- its excesses.

While there is a warm undercurrent of tenderness that runs through Silverman, it's never cloying or clichéd; rather, Folds can take the simplest notion, insert a gorgeous piano motif, and hit that one line in falsetto that gives you goose bumps... without breaking a sweat.

A record that's far removed in feel from the stark, haunting Nebraska, but on a song-for-song level, it's nearly as strong, since its stories linger in the imagination as long as the ones from that 1982 masterpiece.

It's a gloves-off catharsis occurring in real time for the gifted singer/songwriter, and it leaves a mark on the listener as well.

It's personal, it's cryptic, it's hilarious -- it's Laughter's Fifth, and Sam Jayne is definitely some kind of genius.

Touch has a better batch of songs than All I Have.

Overall, Roots Manuva may have a lot to say during the verses, but when his choruses consist of little more than a repeated line shouted over and over ("Awfully Deep," "Too Cold"), listeners won't be hanging around long enough to decipher his rhymes.

Autechre certainly aren't launching any new styles, and there's no innovative music to be heard here, but Untilted does represent the duo returning to the green fields of their youth after a few years sowing their wild oats.

Ex Hex can't really be called a return to form because Timony never lost it in the first place, but it's probably the most immediately appealing album in her solo career for Helium fans who missed that band's bite on her other albums.

Overall, the album is more competent than distinctive; maybe next time, the 22-20s will show more depth and personality.

This isn't edgy work by any means -- and for as hooky and chorus-driven as it is, it's music that becomes memorable through repeated plays, never quite catching hold upon the first listen -- but it's more colorful and well-constructed than a lot of contemporary mainstream rock in the mid-2000s, and it's arguably more appealing than Matchbox Twenty's earnest guitar rock.

Here Come the Choppers may not win the songwriter many new fans, but because of its consistency and terminal uniqueness, it will certainly keep his fan base coming back for more.

Everything on In Case We Die, from the intensely sweet melodies and vocals to the widescreen production, delivers the kind of playful pop majesty that Fingers Crossed's best moments hinted were within Architecture in Helsinki's grasp.

It might not be as hip as it thinks it is, nor is it as catchy as it should be, but it's smooth and listenable.

It's an enjoyable record, but it's hard to escape the nagging feeling that Garbage has painted itself into a corner: they haven't found a way to expand their sound, to make it richer or mature -- they can only deliver more of the same.

Sunlandic Twins is an album to leave playing while you're going about your daily business. Then see how quickly you discover its 13 tracks burrowing so deeply into your skull that it's as though you'd lived with its jerking, burbling, and never less than transcendental swirlings for ever.

It's her fierce nature -- whether saucy and confident or just plain wrecked -- that makes every twist and turn of this impressive debut so easy to fall in love with.

[A] fine collection of city-weary poetry.

Ultimately Mudvayne gets lost between thrash and diluted Slipknot devotion.

D.U.M.E.'s witchy, heavily eyelinered approach may appeal more to fans of bands like Numbers or Ersatz Audio's own Tamion 12 Inch than admirers of Adult.'s normally sleek, distant neo-electro, but the harsh, nervous allure of tracks like "Don't Talk (Redux)" and "Hold Your Breath" is undeniable.

Fans of Radiohead's more melancholic moments on Pablo Honey and Keane's chart singles should enjoy the bliss that is Let There Be Morning.

Elkington has crafted an uplifting, despondent, and always atmospheric collection of elegant indie rock that never takes itself too seriously.

This album feels alive and breathes honesty.

From the songwriting to the production to the performance, the whole package that the Books present with Lost and Safe works wonderfully and makes for a very rewarding listen.

Odyssey makes their transition from flag-waving fashionistas to serious, rewarding band smooth and entirely believable.

While it's far from being truly bad, Elevator is a disappointment, and a perplexing one: everything seems to be more or less in the right place, but still doesn't quite fit together.

On My Way to Absence offers many new areas of musical exploration, suggesting a more mature arranger.

There's less brooding menace and more giddy insanity -- without ever giving way to total chaos.

A record of quiet fire, fueled by an electric/acoustic guitar dynamic and the determined waver in Molina's vocals, which have strengthened considerably since Songs: Ohia.

The First Lady is terrifically balanced in its distribution of club tracks, midtempo grooves, and slow jams.

While it's undeniably polished, it's a bit too dark, a bit too quirky, and a bit too individualistic to be part of the mainstream, while being too slick and professional to be on the fringe, but the album is all the more ingratiating for being caught between two worlds.

Okkervil River continue to deliver the quality of Down the River of Golden Dreams, and though sonic evolution is barely existent from that recording, perhaps it doesn't need to be; certainly Sheff's songwriting still floats above that of his peers.

Warmer Corners is like most Lucksmiths records; it's meant to be swallowed whole, and in an age of singles with albums attached to them, it's both refreshing and nostalgic at the same time.

A thoroughly enjoyable LP that sounds warm and familiar upon the first play and gets stronger with each spin.

Some of the playful songs are as joyously boisterous and willfully corny as anything in Smith's past, making Lost and Found an entertaining and thoughtful album for young kids and their parents to listen to and talk about.

The punk-inspired spark that made their 1997 debut, Word Gets Around, so impressive is rekindled.

The Bravery isn't sonically mind-blowing, but the new millennium new wave revival remains intriguing.

If hip-hop had existed in the days of the Filmore, Woodstock and the Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test, Edan would have been right on the bus.

Those looking for a direct story of how Beanie earned three years in the clink will be somewhat disappointed, but these chunks of insight into the man's turmoil -- and the couple party tunes that go with them -- add up to one hell of an album.

The mix of the old, the new, and the unexpected... makes Live at Earls Court one of the most successful albums of Morrissey's career.

While they offer few surprises on Hyperactive, they also offer no embarassments, and it's likely that any fan still faithfully buying records nearly a decade after Moseley Shoals will enjoy this record.

He isn't really trying to break new ground on this relatively accessible collection of concise, melodic songs, but he is trying to add something to his influences instead of settling for a nostalgia trip.

It's the best kind of pop album imaginable. It can be enjoyed on a purely physical level, and it also carries the potential to adjust your worldview.

Perhaps it doesn't have the kinetic energy or sense of adventure that mark the genre's true classics from No Dice till Girlfriend, but Alternative to Love also exists in an era that's enamored with the past and doesn't take many risks, and on those terms, it's the perfect power pop album for its decade.

Although it wouldn't hurt if there were more "party" (the celebratory kind, not the political one) in Silent Alarm, it's still a fine debut album with a lot of passion and polish; it's hard not to respect, if not fully embrace, the intensity and integrity of Bloc Party's music.

The odd thing about Devil's Playground isn't that Billy pretends Cyberpunk doesn't exist -- frankly, any artist with sense would do that -- it's that he now pretends that he's always been a metalhead, as if his posturing in the '80s was more than an affectation.

While Picaresque follows its predecessor's -- the treacly Her Majesty -- predilection for seafaring and mythology, its boot-covered feet are more firmly planted in the present, resulting in the group's most accessible -- and decidedly upbeat -- product to date.

Apart from the lovely ambient instrumentals that open and close it, the album is all valley and no peaks.

Out Hud have, in a roundabout way, developed into the most original dance band on the planet.

Several of the instrumentals recapture something of the Prefuse 73 magic, but Herren isn't entirely successful even when in cut-and-splice mode.

They are so good, so natural on Lullabies to Paralyze that it's easy to forget that they just lost Oliveri, but that just makes Homme's triumph here all the more remarkable.

Black Forest is a little less scuzzy and raw than the band's earlier work, but it passes the test: the later at night and the louder you play it, the better it sounds.

Despite the talents of the musicians here, on several tracks the music simply lacks the physical strength to handle the lyrical weight of Chesnutt's material.

The Best Little Secrets Are Kept is loaded with a raft of inspired songs that burst out of your speakers like they were on fire, mixing the sparkle of the best glam rock, the low-down crunch of the best of classic rock bands like the Stones, and the direct lyrical approach of poets like David Lee Roth or... Bon Scott.

Though few songs are second-rate, their similarities make them bleed into each other too much.

For Cave fans who have been patiently and exhaustively compiling this stuff in all sorts of dodgy ways, this set is a righteous archivist's gift.

Lif and Akrobatik have a long history, so they sound natural as brainy verse-swapping partners, and they're sharp throughout, whether they have their sights set on the Bush Administration or are simply batting boasts back and forth.

On the quietly electrifying No Earthly Man, Roberts takes on eight classic murder ballads from the British Isles with dizzying results.

Ultimately, too much of Forever Hasn't Happened Yet is made up of songs that don't quite hit their target, either musically or emotionally; it's full of fine moments, but doesn't cohere into a solid whole.

The Fallen Leaf Pages is the kind of record that holds no surprises or excitement, the kind that sounds over before it reaches the halfway point.

Human After All ends up being just not-bad (a first for Daft Punk); that may be hard to accept for fans that demand nothing less than brilliance from them, but just because it isn't an instant classic doesn't mean that it's totally unworthy, either.

Employment is an uneven but still very promising debut that suggests that one day the Kaiser Chiefs will pull off something even more ambitious.

Ultimately, Origin, Vol. 1 is a look back through the past -- musically, personally, poetically, and culturally -- as a way of moving toward the future, celebrating its influence and shaking free of its baggage.

There's a young man's honest pain behind all of the flowery English vernacular.

Everything's OK is the home run Green fans have been dreaming about. It may not replace Let's Stay Together or I'm Still in Love With You but you could play it back to back with either of them and not hear much difference other than time.

Exquisite Corpse is a near perfect blend of the densely packed, sample heavy, nearly symphonic electronica and off-kilter hip-hop that the last three albums have featured.

The Evens not just a step forward in the creative careers of MacKaye and Farina, it's a major leap.

The Blind Boys of Alabama still know how to get to the soul of the matter.

A surprisingly strong and assured record.

A dazzling debut.

Hersh's songwriting is as detailed and dynamic as ever, but the intricacies are less apparent when delivered with such heat-seeking power.

A tight, mean set of songs.

Stars rely instead on melody, charisma, and lyrics as sharp as any modern essayist, and it's all they need to sell the quiet grandness of Set Yourself On Fire.

A cohesive blend of intelligent '60s rock and power pop that sounds like an extension of New Pornographer A.C. Newman's Slow Wonder as played by Cheap Trick.

[A] knack for re-creating the already re-created sounds of their peers keeps rearing up on Hurricane Bar, and it docks the album points in the genuineness department.

A Few Steps More balances the intimate charm of Monade's previous work with a slightly more ambitious, but still off-the-cuff, feel that should please Sadier fans.

Story of My Life is polished, but it's far from slick; it's honest, wears its heart on its sleeve and is full of imagination, grace, and spit.

At worst, it feels unfinished, and at best, it feels like a mixtape cobbled together from mostly choice tracks but without that overseer's polish.

Doves' best yet.

Perhaps the only match for the cerebral weirdness and eventual beauty of Mars Volta's lyrics is their music itself.

It's refined and focused, but also sexy and intimate.