Throughout all this--both the old ways and new directions--the ever-present weak link would have to be Cronise's emotionally deadpan vocals, but, as was the case with earlier Sword albums, they ultimately don't matter as much as the group's pulverizing twin guitar attack.

The guys still place more emphasis on mood than movement, but they're learning how to create atmospheres without resorting to stoner rock, which makes Sugar a step in the right direction.

While nothing can capture the true feeling of being flattened by one of Mogwai's shows except attending one, Special Moves is still a great live document.

Memphis is the most thrilling debut album since the Apples in Stereo's Fun Trick Noisemaker and should be embraced by anyone who likes pop music that sounds small but thinks big. These kids truly have some magic in them.

It's also nice to hear vocals like Carey's which gently suggest a Brian Wilson sense of harmonizing instead of fully pushing the point--refreshing given so many of Carey's compatriots in indie-leaning rock music.

The Reason Why is mature, exquisitely crafted, and radio friendly; it ups the ante for contemporary country in songwriting, performance, and production (the latter by stripping away excess). It's as near to a perfectly balanced recording as one will find in the genre.

Fidelity! is effective, suggesting that Jones has an appeal somewhere between Glen Hansard and Jeff Tweedy, an impeccably messily manicured roots troubadour who works hard to make everything look easy. He's ingratiating, but his charm is strengthened by Hynde's reaction to him.

The best track on 7th Symphony is "2010," which features a guest performance by Slayer drummer Dave Lombardo, who drives the music ferociously, a speeding train straight into hell. But too often, using cellos to play metal riffs (as on "Bring Them to Light," which features vocalist Joseph Duplantier of French avant-metallers Gojira) just winds up making the album sound like "A String Tribute To [Insert Metal Band Here]," and not in the cool, rethinking-the-material way that earlier Apocalyptica releases did.

Grass Widow set the mood masterfully and never breaks it. Past Lives may be a short album that seems slight on first listen but as you play it again and again, it sinks in deeply and magically.

With a slow, minimal style similar to producer Bangladesh, the Pac''s Young L handles most of the production on the album, delivering beats that favor impact over density.

This idealism, along with the music's sheer density and strangeness, will fascinate some--but while While Surfing the Void's admirable boldness is hard to dismiss, it's also not especially easy to like. Ultimately, it's a difficult album on many levels.

As per usual, the record is immaculately crafted, but a bit "proggy," which could serve to disappoint listeners who have been waiting patiently for the artist to return to the engaging, patchwork pop/rock of 2005's Illinoise. Fans of the quirky, less immediate moments from that album will find a great deal to love on this precursor to October's full length Age of Adz.

The Final Frontier still brings Iron Maiden closer to their aesthetic legacy and triumphant year 2000 rebirth than its two predecessors.

This debut only strengthens Lissie's potential to become one of folk music's newest sirens.

David Gray doesn't really purport to be anything other than a contemporary folk-pop singer, and Foundling finds him doing what he does best.

While fans of Darker My Love's earlier albums may be a bit put off by this sudden sea change, Alive as You Are marks a pleasant sonic shift for the band, offering anyone willing to listen a love letter to San Francisco's psych-pop past and the sounds of the paisley underground.

That Black City is Dear's most creative and individual album is not, however, up for debate.

Nearly everything else here is loving, sincere, and worthy of hearing by fans of the Beach Boys or Broadway.

As a record in 2010, the ten songs are an unapologetic throwback, not quite distinctive enough to suggest that a reevaluation of the band is in order, but certainly pleasing for fans -- and even if you're not a fan, it's hard not to be a little pleased that this forgotten chapter in the band's history has been published.

No Better Than This proves that good songs need very little to communicate instructive narratives and complex emotions, and that primitive recording methods are still sometimes the best ones.

Cowboy's Back in Town reveals that this singer can do one thing well; but he does it really well -- and that's offer tough, utterly masculine, contemporary country-rock -- check the closer "Whoop a Man's Ass" -- convincingly.

God Willin' & the Creek Don't Rise is a mixed bag. There's fine stuff here to be sure, but as a whole, it feels unbalanced; too much of one sound makes it drag a bit. Given that this is his debut as a producer, it's not unexpected; but after his previous trio of fine recordings, this one feels anticlimactic.

Sometimes, this careful approach serves as a detriment to the bandmembers, who'd do well to crank up their amplifiers once in a while and see what their pop sensibilities sound like at high volume. On the other hand, Let It Sway is the sound of a band doing what it does best, and it's nice to hear SSLYBY get their groove back.

His voice is clear over the sparse arrangements, and his words are more direct than before.

The real drums are a key here: the band doesn't sound as sequenced and hemmed-in as it did in the past; there's a messy, urgent pulse to the music. All the same, Trouble isn't that far removed from Short Bus.

Camu Tao's thoughts and structures are more fully fleshed out, more songs than just ideas and sketches, and here, what he was and what he could do, and could have done, seem so much more fully whole.

Earnest, melodic, and slow to unfold, there's not a bad song on here, but surprises are few and far between.

Come and Get It!--his third LP and first for a major label--feels a bit like an unearthed relic, built on songs and sounds that could pass for unheard gems if it wasn't for Reed's unapologetically white voice, free of affectations and ticks.