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.

Song for song, Rebirth has more energy and better hooks than her other albums.

Spektor is an engaging performer throughout the album, and despite her arty quirks, she's never pretentious.

The genre-blending charm and sweetness that made Brushfire Fairytales and On and On so nice doesn't change that much, but does it really have to change?

Back to Me is a powerful and affecting album from an artist who is quickly establishing herself as a major talent.

Angel of Retribution does indeed rock just hard enough to please longtime fans and convert a few new ones along the way.

Make Do With What You Got sounds like an overly anxious attempt to re-create the sound of vintage R&B sides that gets the surfaces right but never quite captures the heart and soul of the music.

Stone Roses fans who haven't tracked Brown's musical progress after that band's breakup will find much to love on Solarized, another mini-masterpiece that perfectly balances mood and melody.

It's their seamless and agreeable blend of rock & roll, country, and Roky Erickson-style psychedelia, matched with a keen lyrical wit, that makes them fascinating to both sides of the pond.

Fans of the newly resurgent psych-folk scene should definitely investigate the record and the band, too.

It wants terribly to be an important record, but its songs are merely good.

As a cohesive work, The Beekeeper holds together better than nearly any of Tori's more ambitious albums, but there's a certain artsy distance that keeps this from being as emotionally immediate or as memorable as her first two records.

Ward's voice is a slap-delayed pastiche of Ron Sexsmith's easygoing croon and Andrew Bird's closed-mouth drawl, and like his front-porch fingerpicking, it's as effortless as it is effective.

Clem Snide's fifth album holds no surprises for anyone who has heard albums one through four. End of Love is just as whip smart, goofy, and satisfying as any of them.

Actually one of the band's most enjoyable releases.

It's often impenetrable and there are a couple derailments... but it's never off-putting.

Ida continues to create slow, sad music that maintains interesting depth within the ache.

Stand[s] alongside Something to Remember Me By as his strongest album.

So darkly delicious you have to admit it's their masterwork.

Woman King is too short to be considered the high point of Iron & Wine's career -- it certainly points in that direction, though.

The negativity removes the focus from Busdriver's sizable musical talents and rests it squarely on his lyricism and themes (not a good idea).

Though die-hard Mogwai fans are probably the most likely to pick this up, Government Commissions works so well that it could also double as a Mogwai greatest-hits collection.

This is a subdued, lying in bed and staring at the ceiling kind of album, and coming after the majestic peaks and valleys of Shivering King and Others it initially feels a little disappointing.

Somebody will really have to pull off a miracle to top Nashville as far as intelligent, honest and entertaining guitar pop goes in 2005. Or any other year.

The music alone nearly justifies the cost, improving on the dense atmosphere pervading Aesop's mostly self-produced Bazooka Tooth, and returning ace producer Blockhead to his prime role in the control chair.

The curiously lifeless production means that several listens are necessary before the songs' charms are fully revealed.

Like just about everybody else these days, Murphy's more skilled at creating isolated tracks than making full-lengths, even though this particular full-length has few weak spots and unfolds smoothly as you listen to it from beginning to end. The bonus disc, containing all the stray single tracks, adds a great deal of value.

Take Fountain is a solid Wedding Present album, one that will satisfy those who have been following Gedge all along.

The songs are wearier than ever and full of life at the same time, with each element seeming to fall into place by sheer luck.

This is one of Ladd's most accomplished albums to date, proving once again that he's one of the most forward-thinking artists around.

Overall, the Sage may be polemical on a level like few other than Dead Prez, but he also has a metaphysical side matched by few other than Jeru tha Damaja.

Burn the Maps is an elemental journey that tugs at the heart and sticks around in the mind.

An utterly mesmerizing and magnetic album, almost unfair in how incredibly ambitious and impressively pulled off the whole thing is.

Their darkly whimsical music has ties to the sweetly strange work of '90s groups like the Sundays, Sixpence None the Richer, and (especially) Belly, but there simply aren't many bands that sound like Eisley around in the 2000s.

Out of Breach isn't much different from 2003's Afro Finger and Gel, flitting between left-field house that is remotely danceable and bracingly atonal sheets of noise, often within the span of one track.

A devastatingly accomplished album.