This is the friendliest batch of neo-glam to come down the pike in quite some time, never catching fire but never really striking a match, either, and it's the least adventurous dose of eclecticism, too, with nary a sitar, Mellotron, or sample out of place.

This is as entertaining and frivolous as a one-night stand should be.

It's appropriate that the billing for this band is the Dynamites Featuring Charles Walker, not Charles Walker & the Dynamites, because that's what Walker sounds like on this disc, a featured performer rather than a dominating one. Thus, an album by the group is basically a calling card or souvenir of their live show more than a standalone entity.

He's still writing finely observed vignettes that manage to intersect life as we live it with life as we wish we could live it, and as such, he has more in common with a short story writer than he does with the typical singer/songwriter.

Thanks to the production, the performances, and the songs, the Raveonettes have delivered on the renewed promise of "Lust Lust Lust" and made a very good, almost great, noise-pop album.

While Tokio Hotel may not have matured enough to hang with the big boys yet, they are most certainly the dark horses pacing up and down the Disney fringe.

It sounds like it was worth the wait for Sandoval and O'Ciosoig and it's a welcome return for fans of her music, and also for fans of late-night, melancholy balladry that will break your heart and ease you gently into dreams.

Loyal hip-hop heads with a taste for the old-school boom-bap shouldn't think twice and won't be disappointed.

Lou Barlow is still the poet laureate of hiss and heartbreak, and although the hiss is missing on Goodnight Unknown, that's the only defining quality he's lost with the passage of time.

It’s a slow burner with nary a hook in sight, and vocalist/guitar player Petter Ericson Stakee’s theatric mumbles can be an acquired taste, but listeners with a CD collection that leans heavily on bands like Catherine Wheel, Sixteen Horsepower, the Cult, and Kings of Leon will find this dense monolith of roots-based stoner rock to be the perfect late-night companion for a dark summer highway.

Nasty as he wants to be, Ghostdini is nothing more than the Face and friends having a good time. The results are as improper as they are infectious.

The Sound the Speed the Light falls a few feet short of the level of excellence Mission of Burma have set for themselves in the past--though most contemporary bands would be overjoyed to make an album as interesting and compelling as this one.

Knopfler's distinctive conversational baritone begins calmly intoning lyrics, and eventually there are examples of his melodic fingerpicked guitar style on both acoustic and electric.

At times, Chapman seems in danger of being too earnest or letting his ambitions get the better of him, but Turning the Mind ends up being a significant step forward for Maps' music.

When they stretch out, they get intriguing, if mixed, results.

After spending a little bit more time swaggering than wooing, he's back to crooning and it's amiable and appealing, if not overwhelming.

Classic and maybe even a little awesome, Sonic Boom makes that "hottest band in the world" tag much easier to swallow.

All of this is a far cry from Azure Ray's work, perhaps, but Ask the Night is often gorgeous in its simplicity.

As a whole, Out of Ashes is a solid record and a fine opening volley for Bennington's solo work.

It's not essential Pernice by any stretch, but as a soundtrack to the novel, it works just fine, and its relaxed charm makes it worth hearing even if you don't read the book and are just a fan of the man's music.

Of course, new bands have lower expectations than established bands, and while virtually every listener will contrast Never Cry Another Tear with New Order's best work, it has the sweep and grandeur of the group's classic moments.

Ultimately, this set proves that the debut was no fluke, and this genre-bending meld of street traditions both East and West is capable of appealing to anyone with blood instead of sawdust in her/his veins.

Headlights' third album, Wildlife, is at once their most immediate album and also their most reserved-sounding and emotionally powerful.

Johnston's craft as a vocalist can rise to the level of Falkner's well-crafted soundscapes, he's going to sound out of place on his own albums if he keeps making records like Is and Always Was.

While it seems they will probably never equal the majesty of their debut, Editors have dug themselves out of their artistic cul de sac at least long enough to plan their next move.

Adding drums might have spoiled the introspective and feather-light feel of the record. Anyone who's been on their bandwagon all along will be glad of that, as they'll rejoice that Declaration of Dependence turns out to be another autumnal treasure from the Kings.

This darker, heavier tone makes the majority of Kill less of a party than "Fire" or "I Shall Exterminate Everything Around Me That Restricts Me from Being the Master," but splendidly, Dance Commander rears his head to make demands like "Shake that tambourine/Shake that shaking machine!" in 'Egyptian Cowboy' and encourages mass consumption in the splendid 'Body Shot,' which devolves from a grunge-disco jam into a wonderful, dubbed-out frenzy.

As lyrical a musician as he is, without his commanding use of language (the song cycle is entirely instrumental), the BQE loses some momentum near the end, but by then it's become clear that, as is the case with all of his projects, the term "half-assed" does not apply.