Summer Sun is so mellow and pretty that it feels uncharitable to call it one of their weakest albums in recent memory; many bands would kill to make music this accomplished.

As before, Ginuwine rises above most of his dozens of imitators in the contemporary R&B realm, with a set of productions -- from the returning Troy Oliver -- that fit his voice perfectly and rate as slightly edgier than the norm.

It is simply the bravest, most emotionally wrenching record she's ever issued.

His tracks are vibrant and imaginative, calling on fuzzed-out guitar solos and summer-day vocals that recall a raft of solid shoegazers.

If you're looking for irony, you're out of luck; if you want to hear a rock band confront the blues with soul, muscle, and respect, then thickfreakness is right up your alley.

Boomkatalog.One is a clever marriage of technology, creativity, and straight-up sass that gets away with being much more enjoyable than it might deserve.

Even when their brazen demeanor shifts tempo for the stainless melodies of "That's What They Do" and "Wake Up," Sahara Hotnights offers a musically cultivated sophistication that's missing in bands like the Donnas and the Vines.

Elefant frontman Diego Garcia must have memorized nearly every song by the Cure while he was growing up, because his band's debut album, Sunlight Makes Me Paranoid, is a shameless, abstract pop mix, a solid indie pop record heavy in new wave aesthetics.

While Source Tags & Codes might be a more cohesive listen and feature slightly stronger songwriting, Secret of Elena's Tomb suggests some promising directions for the band's next album.

Elephant overflows with quality -- it's full of tight songwriting, sharp, witty lyrics, and judiciously used basses and tumbling keyboard melodies that enhance the band's powerful simplicity.

The ability to make a genuine album -- and not just a collage of songs -- from a wide interest in musical styles is truly what makes this album such a delightful and great surprise.

Though the album could use a bit more grit and grime, it's still remarkably solid.

New fans will find Sleeping With Ghosts to be a good record. Old fans, though, might think the band wimped out while growing up.

Backed by stale songs, formulaic arrangements, and mediocre songwriting, Williams is forced to rely on his volcanic personality to bring this album across -- and despite a few strong performances, he sinks into lame self-parody time and time again.

A.R.E. Weapons comes across as partially put-together and all the way dumb -- not dumb meaning fun but dumb meaning dumb.

Unfortunately, Fear Yourself's intricate, careful sound results in a rather bland album.

While Silver Lake sounds like a Vic Chesnutt album through and through, it's also a better than average introduction to the man's work.

More than once everything connects perfectly.

Though her voice is hardly the most impressive instrument in country music, Cash knows how to compensate by using an understated approach to more quietly highlight the essence of a song.

Not a hint of pretense makes even the most formulaic tunes and lyrics ("Little Baby," "Party," "Come On!") seem inspired if not quite inspirational.

What seems less successful are the English language efforts.

The similarity of Meteroa to Hybrid Theory does not only raise the question of where do they go from here, but whether there is a place for them to go at all.

The Remote Part captures a divinely aged five-piece.

The overall mood is casual, laidback, and relaxed.

Echoes of classic U2, Echo & the Bunnymen, and Swervedriver resonate throughout.

A small triumph, but a triumph nonetheless.

Apart from the wonderfully elastic, surprising “Us," it doesn't offer anything striking or resonant.

Grand Mal isn't going for anything bombastic with Bad Timing, but it's a good dose, a healthy spoonful of new millennium indie rock.

At times, the production is so even, the music simply flows out of the speaker without distinction between tracks, but the result is a record that holds together as a nice mood piece while holding up as individual songs.

Hard to imagine Green Day or Rancid having anything this interesting up their sleeve 27 years down the line from their first recording.

Is less a bold statement of principle as it is a blossoming into maturity.

MacIntyre's wise abandonment of the kitchen-sink approach would've benefited this album even more if he had kept the running time below 45 minutes or so; at an hour, some of its nuances are bound to be lost in the shuffle.

Like both Radiohead and Foo Fighters, Cave In is a stylistic chameleon that rarely uses its freewheeling taste as a crutch to present self-indulgent material.

Kids looking to anger their parents to the point of losing it should pick up this CD, turn up the stereo, and lock the door.

Easily his most accomplished record since his days in the Lost Boyz.

Transfiguration is a quiet record and might lose some listeners in it's sleepy summer melancholy, but M. Ward is the real deal.

Virtually every song on Up the Bracket is chock-full of the bouncy, aggressive guitars, expressive, economic drums, and irresistible hooks that made the Strokes' debut almost too catchy for its own good.

The album's a bit more edgy than any of her American contemporaries, but it's still not too far from [Lauryn] Hill and other neo-soul figures.

Like label mates Aphex and Autechre, this all amounts to something of a tough listen, though it is tracks like "Sixnot6" and "Distracted2" which really reward the listener willing to wade through the bleak atmospherics.

His last two albums also reflected his ongoing growth as an artist, but Supper's settled but intriguing warmth is an even bigger step forward.

The fifth album doesn't deviate far from the band's tried and true sound, but it's solid nonetheless.

The album's subtle build from bleak electronica to ethereal alternative rock is a stunning accomplishment; his productions haven't maintained this kind of flow since the first Soul Assassins disc.

Oskar Tennis Champion would surely please most Momus fans, though it does not match up to his best albums.

Builds considerable muscle to the skeletal frailty of intricate guitar work while commendably maintaining all which was good of their debut.

The arrangements and solid production, however, aren't enough to save the material.

Another stunning effort from one of rock's underground heroes.

Feels like an evening well spent with old friends.

Consolidates the strengths and weaknesses of the American Movie one disc.

Though he's never as instantaneously gratifying as the Streets, the Roots or Jurassic 5, his efforts to continually defy convention in both production and lyrics - simultaneously looking forward to electronics and back to days of good rhymes, talent and passion - make for a rewarding, maybe even educational, listen.

Just when the strings, piano, and rainstorm effects threaten to turn Sing the Sorrow into a My Dying Bride album, there is a burst of hardcore like "Dancing Through Sunday" to recall California pioneers of the genre like Dead Kennedys or SST transplants Husker Du.

The melodies are there, but they sure aren't catchy pop.

The songs, while as elegant and naturally paced as they've ever been, tend to merely drift along.

Sleepwalk an essential body of work for those who enjoy their electronic music with a little human interference.

At its best, though, this album is like having a beautiful girl hit you repeatedly over the head with a baseball bat.

La Bella Mafia affirms Kim's briefly questionable status as a formidable female presence in a man's world and once again turns the often sexist mindset of rap on its head in the process.

Magnolia Electric Co. may not be the best Songs: Ohia album, but it is certainly the most approachable. It has a big, open feel certain to appeal to any classic rock fan, but retains the warm intimacy of previous albums.

Another collection of typical speed punk tunes, virtually indistinguishable from the work of Green Day and Blink-182, not to mention dozens of other similar bands.

Adding some variety to their tempos would make the band even more impressive, but with More Parts Per Million they've created a bracing, charming debut.

Their loudest, noisiest, most immediate album yet -- and it's one of their best.

The Ugly Organ is greater than the sum of its parts, with tracks that flow into one another seamlessly in spite of the wildly varying tempo and stylistic changes, not surprisingly like a classical piece in that regard.

The result is a bit jarring, but there's a fervent originality at work here, despite all of the referencing of the halcyon past.

The productions are much better than the songs.

Though the Manchester duo might not be completely on par with the bands they emulate, they more than earn an A for effort while crafting some wonderful melodies along the way.

This collective has always represented the darker elements of McCaughey's personality, but the depression is kept in check here by Wilco's solid and often upbeat backing, thus playing a major role in the most enjoyable Minus 5 release yet.

Probably one of indie rock's more dignified efforts of 2003.

Remarkably varied, lush, and fascinating from start to finish, #1 is a great album.

In the end though, Ladd's too good at producing a realistic commercial rap record; Beauty Party falls prey to the same faults, and the occasionally bland material never rises above its satirical value.

Though Giraffe is definitely Echoboy's most immediate and cohesive work, it's not perfect: the album takes a misguided turn toward the dark and overwrought on songs like "Lately Lonely" and "Wasted Spaces," both of which recall the harsher moments of Primal Scream's Evil Heat.

Freeway delivers a strong album that should lay to rest the speculation that his unique vocal style -- alternating between a scratchy crack and an anything-but-gruff shout, filtered through a consistently high pitch -- would have difficulty remaining tolerable across a full album.

The intricacy of the band's sound remain[s], but with less experimental desperation and considerably better ideas.

It's a decent second album and longtime Verve enthusiasts should leave it at that.

The Music is an incredible effort and a brilliant example of where rock could be headed.

The album is always fantastical and innocent, a meeting of magic and technology.

Thrives on its mixture of fuller-sounding productions and relatively traditionally-structured songs with vocals.

There is a successful degree of experimentation on the songs that is not only tolerable but helpful for an act to constantly remain on top of its game and be relevant with fans.

The band's tendency to start a song quiet, loose, and lovely and then slowly sweat it into a faster, intensified crescendo is familiar by now, but somehow remains vividly evocative.

The fireworks do not ignite the way they might have, but that is the nature of experimentation. Nevertheless, this is all great fun, a function of Shipp's slippery mind, and the results are not only danceable but disconcertingly so.

The Beauty of the Rain is Dar Williams' first recording that truly expands upon the sound of the album before it.

It doesn't scale the heights of either of their main projects, but it's far more consistent and enjoyable than might be expected.

Go-Betweens fans should be very happy with Bright Yellow Bright Orange and glad the band has decided to stay together and continue to make smart, exciting adult pop music.

In the hands of a lesser band, all the different sounds Calexico explores on Feast of Wire could result in a mish-mash of an album, but fortunately for them and their fans, it's one of their most accomplished and exciting efforts.

Aereogramme combines abrasive guitars, feedback, and distorted vocals into rock that, in its own way, is as crunchy and dynamic as Weezer, though as decidedly outsider as Mogwai.

The Datsuns re-create the sound of a beer- and weed-fueled Saturday night in 1973, borrowing and blending the revving guitar riffs and choked, macho vocals of Thin Lizzy, Bad Company, .38 Special, and on occasion, the hornier side of Led Zeppelin.

You Are Free may take awhile longer than expected to unfold, but once it does, its excellence is undeniable.

Still dour and humorless, but pruned of its experimental tendencies, Ministry delivered its first solid record in a decade.

Solid and pleasing, if somewhat predictable.

A significant departure from the band's previous works, marking a new approach to songwriting.

By not taking the easy way out, Ready for Love is a successful experiment that nudges at John Hammond's limitations while satisfying his recently acquired, larger fan base.

Lyrically it's so strong and vulnerable that it works, leaving the listener haunted with the notion that something special has occurred, that he or she has born witness to a man becoming aware of the preciousness of his own life.

Satisfaction enough for those who kept Mezzanine near their stereo for years on end, but a disappointment to those expecting another masterpiece.

What is impressive is that the trio manages to sound contemporary using only piano, bass, and drums, and without resorting to electronic gimmicks.

Life on Other Planets is a smashing return to form, an album giddy with the sheer pleasure of making music.

Save for the unfortunate hip-hop slip-up of "Prego Amore," this is an excellent set of mellow electronic pop.

Everything is predictable and sounds like something Cave has done before. The Bad Seeds' edges are smoothed over by the too-slick production; Cave's lyrics are not provocative or funny or much of anything worth hearing.

In the vein of Kevin Rowland or Elvis Costello, Ted Leo writes lyrical rock songs that sprawl out and rarely depend on a chorus.

Though most of his career highlights also appear here, a parade of Paul Van Dyk productions is not what most listeners need to stave off boredom; his productions all work from a similar framework, and work best in the context of a broader mix set.

Get Rich isn't quite the masterpiece 50 seems capable of, impressive or not. But until he drops that truly jaw-dropping album -- which you know he will -- this will certainly do.

The real problem is that Lupine Howl doesn't really do enough here to distinguish itself from other bands, drawing from such obvious influences as the Rolling Stones and the Doors, and in a lot of ways the album sounds like a tour of '90s retro-influenced bands like the Charlatans, Oasis, or even the Black Crowes.