A mix of veiled threats and bounding guitars, it proves that Dissolver isn't the sound of Iran turning its back on its past, it's the sound of a band finding ways to be more complicated, and accessible, than ever.

Changing Horses marks a defining moment in the songwriter's career, offering up a batch of pastiche-free country music that, like Ryan Adams' "Jacksonville City Nights," may be a promising sign of what's to come.

Frusciante has done a nice job of carving an identity completely separate from his main gig, and Empyrean fits nicely with his other solo albums.

More polished and refined than the EPs, Fight Like Apes and the Mystery of the Golden Medallion (named in honor of an obscure Mr. T movie) skillfully walks the grey area between mainstream and underground, spit-shining frontwoman May Kay's effortless pop smarts without losing sight of their zany outsider appeal.

Definitely track down 'Meet Me in the Garden' as it stands head and shoulders above the rest of the album, but give the rest a chance too.

The tone of the relationship songs is more upbeat, and even occasionally lighthearted, relative to those of "Testimony: Vol. 1," adding a pleasant contrast to the more serious material.

Despite the catch phrases and recycled riffs, nothing about Habeas Corpus is authentic--it's all trashy punk that trivializes anything it touches--but what's fun about it is that Living Things do it all without a sense of awareness.

Throughout Hush he proves adept at constructing interesting soundscapes built on guitar tones and dynamics and not just sheer volume and distortion.

200 Million Thousand provides a fair share of these moments and because of that you can say the album succeeds. It just could use a little more teenage head and a little less brains.

Though some of the tracks contributed by Dark Was the Night's artists are a touch too predictable, it's uncharitable to nitpick too much when the collection offers so much music for such a good cause.

Feel. Love. Thinking. Of. is a decent enough album as a whole that sometimes falters but features fine moments of brilliance when the Batke brothers filter out their cheesier influences.

Radio Wars demands its listeners heed that siren song, and it's truthfully hard to resist.

As far as guest rappers, old friends like Teddy Riley, Keith Murray, Redman, Havoc, plus an especially on fire KRS-One are here, making this album short on new developments but greatly appealing to those who long for the way it used to be.

A little more variation from song to song, a little more of their own sound, or another song or two as compelling as the best stuff here and the POBPAH's debut would have been classic. Settling for impressive is fair enough and good enough for fans of loud, fuzzy, and heartfelt indie noise pop.

Keeping a good thing going, Uncle Charlie follows the formula of the former Gap Band vocalist's previous release, "Charlie, Last Name Wilson," which climbed to number ten on Billboard's album chart.

This is a rare talent and while it's not perfect, largely due to those dreary Tedder tunes, much of All I Ever Wanted does justice to Clarkson's considerable skills.

Midnight at the Movies plays more like a subtle step forward for Justin Townes Earle than a quantum leap, but if the "The Good Life" suggested he was a talent to watch, this record confirms that he's a new writer to be reckoned with who doesn't need to trade on his family name.

It's just a solid album, and just another example of Boeckner and Perry's tingling creative chemistry.

Taken as a whole, Not Without a Fight is a pleasant listen, mature in its outlook, and happily adolescent in its vigor.

Where experimentation with layered instruments enhanced the grandness of "Happy Hollow," here it's taken one step overboard with additional flute, clarinets, and violin arrangements added on top of the supplementary horn section, to the point of making this their lightest, earthiest release to date.

Oldham's brand of folk music is certainly old enough and weird enough, but there are noticeably fewer moments of beauty and fewer lyrical revelations than on his best material.

Repeated listens help to sort things out, though, and the subtle shadings of Grrr... do become more apparent the more you listen--in fact, the album is a perfect example of the old rock crit cliche "The Grower."

Best summed up as a deranged Mardi Gras (the cover art is perfect), it's a strange little album, and surprising that something so alienating and overwhelming could also be so utterly listenable.

Adult Nights is an engaging debut from a band that wears its sunny California influences as well as if they were born and bred there.

If you are patient, there is more than enough here to hold your attention and take you on journeys through love, lust, tragedy, and longing and bring you home again.

They're in a slump with their songwriting, and subject-wise, every song here has a companion piece on some earlier album, but that doesn't mean the party is spoiled.

Royksopp remain among the best at middlebrow dance-pop, crafting music that can and will rule the supermarket aisles while still having a shelf-life longer than the canned ham you'll find there.

Two Suns is nearly as graceful and poetic as Bat for Lashes' best work; it's just that the album's massive concepts and sounds require a little more time and patience to unravel to get to the songs' hearts.