As carefully crafted as it is, this is the group's most accessible record yet. And it's a damn fine one at that.

While it isn't quite as honed as "Standing in the Way of Control," on Music for Men the Gossip sound perfectly at home in their new digs, while remaining true to their essence.

Peñate's enthusiasm for not only his source material, but for the empty canvas of 21st century commercial music itself, feels genuine enough, resulting in an infectious club- and radio-ready collection of cosmopolitan pop that feels both familiar and expansive.

For those raised on dream pop bands and space rock songs, Some Sweet Relief sounds somewhat timeless, a 40-minute offering of neo-psych gospel that's more polished, more promising, and altogether stronger than most of the band's contemporaries.

It can be incredibly difficult for an experimental group to continue experimenting for years on end without getting stale, but Tortoise achieve that balance effortlessly.

A weird psychedelic mindset is woven through everything, and even though everything constantly seems on the verge of combustion, the songs on Fits always manage to hold together and work themselves out with exciting, engaging results.

The results are impressive standard-bearers for dancehall, displaying the duo's ample facility for floating the type of productions that have made dancehall the most experimental and extreme type of commercial dance music since it dawned in the mid-'80s.

This one leaves its generational competition in the dust and is wise beyond this songwriter's years, and to be frank, leaves his own previous identity as simply a bedroom balladeer to history.

At times, Embrace can get a little too droning and repetitive, but it's a confident and promising debut.

Electric Dirt sounds fresh, emphatic, and as effective as anything Levon has cut since the mid-'70s, and one can only hope he has a few more discs in him just this good.

Beauty rarely hides where you expect it. Take, for instance, the debut release by the U.K.'s Trembling Bells.

Here and Now is good enough that you can't help but wish Holsapple and Stamey cut another album before they start getting their Social Security checks.

On the whole, American Saturday Night is one of his dreamier albums, filled with swaying slow dances, sweet love tunes, and the occasional brokenhearted blues, all delivered with a worn-in ease.

American Central Dust doesn't have the feel of a step into new territory the way Son Volt's past two albums did, but it consolidates old strengths and confirms Jay Farrar is still an artist worth caring about to 20 years after Uncle Tupelo cut their first album.

Travels with Myself and Another distinguishes Future of the Left from Mclusky without completely severing ties, and proves they're a band that can keep post-hardcore exciting with righteous anger and merciless wit.

For all its abundantly positive qualities and minor but clear distinctions from prior efforts, is still an archetypal Dream Theater album; one that's unlikely to broaden their audience all that much, but is conversely guaranteed to thrill their hardcore converts with its renewed devotion to the most exigent and stimulating facets of the band's chosen musical domain.

...And the Ever Expanding Universe is a small wonder that easily confirms the Most Serene Republic's status as one of the most impressive acts on a Toronto pop scene that is already producing a bounty of exciting music.

It would be easy to call this album an exercise in dabbling if the quality of these songs weren't so strong--and it's that quality, along with Bibio's continuing flair for crafting distinctive atmospheres, that are the only constants throughout.

Chemical Warfare keeps this capo's reputation in tact. Recommended for aspiring dons and more open-minded thugs.

It's this Grand Royal mish-mash style of mixing genres that makes this such a fun, cartoonish, joy ride.

Singular pop craftsmen (and women) who can successfully tow the line between commercially viable and artistically sovereign are few and far between in the 21st century, which makes the arrival of Eugene McGuinness a true cause for celebration.

I'm Going Away is a departure that fits in with the rest of the Fiery Furnaces' work, and it's only fitting that a band this creative can pull something like that off.

Molina has a consistent--if downcast--view of the world in his songs, and the canvas he uses to express it does so perfectly.

Riceboy Sleeps has all the majestic calm of Sigur Ros with none of the dramatic storm, all of the lull and none of the squall.

While the comparisons were apt at the time, 'Kiss with a Fist' turned out to be a red herring in the wake of the release of Lungs, one of the most musically mature and emotionally mesmerizing albums of 2009.

Forget about long shadows--Williams steps out into the light on Here with Me and proves she doesn't need to use the family name as a crutch.

while Midlife could have used a heavier dose of this side of Blur, there's not a bad track here, and the set also brings their glorious, epoch-creating single 'Popscene' back into circulation.