Electric Endicott confirms that the gifted outsider who allowed us to glance into his psyche on You Think You Really Know Me hasn't stopped pursuing his singular vision of twisted pop music, just as he still hasn't figured out how to deal with the opposite sex, and who knows: if he ever did, he might never be able to make music again.

Part Arvo Part and Part Brian Eno, Greenwood continues to impress.

The band's sophomore debut tempts fate with a nearly 30-second fade-in (you may think you have a defective disc on your hands, but wait for it), then takes off into a crazy welter of power ballad, electro-glitch, dubstep, atonal, acoustic-based, waltz-funk weirdness that occasionally gets tiring but rarely stops being interesting.

He also leans a bit too heavily on co-producer Clint Lagerberg, who wrote Rascal Flatts' chart-topping "Here Comes Goodbye" but fails to bring similar hitmaking hooks to Kelley's table, and his vocals sound forced, with a deep baritone twang replacing the breathy croon he used on earlier albums.

It is not quite prime Soundgarden; the band is pushing their OK 1996 effort Down on the Upside, and while there isn't much palpable tension in the performances, they're not quite inspired, either. The group is in full-fledged pro mode, hitting their marks with efficiency and occasional power if not much flair.

The rest of the tracks are more like exercises in sound manipulation and reduction than songs. The approach is no-fault, but Blake pares it down to such an extent that the material occasionally sounds not just tentative but feeble, fatigued, even.

At times, they clearly outpace her singing and lyrics, which often betray the fact that English is a second language. Still, Keren Ann remains a striking songwriter (listen to the interesting device she employs on the title track for proof), while her range of musical techniques has grown.

Anyone who arrived here because of underground mixtapes will be happy to hear the radio-friendly numbers and polish removed, and even happier when they notice Southern street producer Drumma Boy is responsible for all the beats.

The combination of songs, sound, and performance make this another near-perfect album from the trio. Those who have fallen under their charmingly sweet spell can only hope it doesn't take another six years for the next one.

The combination of songs, sound, and performance make this another near-perfect album from the trio. Those who have fallen under their charmingly sweet spell can only hope it doesn't take another six years for the next one.

The once bold, sometimes shameless Simon Le Bon sounds a bit tentative in this post-Killers world, and when compared to the tight, original, nine-track version of the album previously made available via digital download, this final, fatter version borders on "too much of a good thing." Fortunately, the emphasis will be on "good thing" for longtime Duran fans or anyone with a taste for melodic, synth-driven pop/rock.

At their best, Hudson and her collaborators provide the kind of mature R&B that is not felt merely in the mind, throat, chest, or hips but the entire body.

This all makes F.A.M.E. the equal of Forever, if not slightly better, and it hints that Brown's best is yet to come.

Ultimately, Angles' best moments are reassuring rather than exciting, offering proof that the Strokes can still make an album together, and hope that it'll come more naturally to them next time.

As with their last album, the prominence of the violin continues to diminish, but what the strings lack in ubiquity they make up for in impact, making an impression when they appear rather than just fading into the background. This kind of refinement of their sound paints a picture of an older and wiser Yellowcard whose members are confident enough in their abilities that they can step away from the gimmick that initially set them apart from the pack and let their songwriting do the talking.

Stripped down, punishing, and more aloof than the two previous albums, the lack of any unifying theme makes Scurrilous a less inclusive outing, though the quintet's penchant for crafting impossibly precise breakdowns, staccato leads, and unpredictable melodies is far from diminished.

It's safe to say no one was expecting a mid-career renaissance from Cervenka when she signed to Bloodshot Records, but with Somewhere Gone and The Excitement of Maybe she's made two of the strongest and most impressive albums she's recorded outside of her work with X, confirming her status as a one of a kind talent with plenty of welcome surprises up her sleeve.

In a word, Scandalous most certainly is; it's a party record that bleeds Saturday night into Sunday morning and beyond.

Listening to the Naked and Famous' guttingly good 2011 full-length debut, Passive Me Aggressive You, one thing is clear: this band loves a hot chorus.

It's an album of glorious madness and melody, played not only with skill, but with real passion.

While Welcome Home Armageddon isn't quite in a class with 2005's Hours or 2007's Tales Don't Tell Themselves, this 2011 release nonetheless indicates that Funeral for a Friend have a lot of life left in them.

There aren't any weak points, and it drifts along dreamily, from one understated jam to the next.

The result is a sunny, homemade-sounding record, but these aren't throwaway songs -- there's enough melody here to warrant attention regardless of Ebert's success with the Magnetic Zeros, and while that band's blissed-out bombast is an obvious touchstone, Alexander covers significantly more ground.

There's a right way and a wrong way to write anthems in the early 21st century, and the Joy Formidable -- with only three bandmembers present -- find themselves on the right side of the dividing line during the majority of this debut.

Tirtha is a triumph; it is a high-water mark in hearing the constantly evolving discussion between jazz and Indian music.

While this decision [to a trimmed down from the five-disc] might disappoint some of the film and film score geeks among Francis' fans, the album still has plenty to offer, not the least of which is Francis' reunion with longtime collaborator Eric Drew Feldman. Feldman's keyboards and Francis' voice and guitar just sound natural--and immediately recognizable--together.

Whatever else can be said about Too Beautiful to Work, it's clearly a demonstration that the trend toward mini-pocket orchestras and detailed arrangements in whatever indie rock is supposed to be sometimes can turn out mesmerizing results.

No Color is a welcome return to form, and a nimble balance between the extremes of Dodos' previous work.