Though it's a little perverse for the band to bury its explosive moments, it proves that there's more to Past Lives than rehashing the Blood Brothers' legacy. They're still finding their footing on Tapestry of Webs, but they're going interesting places.

While the music of Wolf People is undeniably vibrant, vital, and visceral, it does not attempt to put any modern (or post-modern) spin on its building blocks; rather, it embraces all the aforementioned influences and moves out into the world as a living, breathing, very natural extension of them.

By and large, European strikes a nice balance between genuine and theatrical, shambling and shiny.

The slocore tag Picastro received early on in some corners has a vague relevance, but on a song like "Pig & Sucker," the sense of compelling, unsettled strangeness is much greater than most bands could pull off.

While hardcore fans may argue--a bit--over the sum total, even they will ultimately agree that this is the only truly representative portrait of Was (Not Was) in all their incarnations; and besides, it’s a stone killer of a party record.

This self-titled album is a fitting tribute to Toure’s and Diabate’s genius and friendship, and is a beautiful farewell.

While some of Constellations lulls a bit, seven-minute suite "Steerage and the Lamp," a snow flurry of Lowe's rolling piano arpeggios accentuated by subtle strings, captures the classical wonderment of Balmorhea at its finest.

((Un)) is a very impressive first record that shows tons of promise. If Black can keep the right amount of wonky in his pop, he could do something truly wonderful.

Sigh No More is an impressive debut, but one that impresses more for its promise of the future than it does its wildly inconsistent place in the present.

Falling Down a Mountain isn't exactly a major reinvention, either, but it does back up the golden-hued sky gracing its cover with some of their most upbeat and optimistic songs to date (keep in mind those are relative terms), and a liberal extension of the looseness they've been gradually settling into since 1999's Simple Pleasure.

These are huge, Motown-sounding set pieces that frame Hynes as a male Dusty Springfield backed by symphonic strings, jangly guitars, and urgent, driving percussion.

This is another chapter in the sonic evolution that began with the name A Silver Mt. Zion, and contains many more dimensions, layers, and textures. It pushes harder and further with much less, yet comes across as no less raggedly and poetically majestic.

There is enough variation from song to song to keep listeners engaged; plenty of thoughtful, almost heavy ballads to balance the jumpy, uptempo tracks, lots of different instrumentation in the arrangements, and an assortment of moods from quiet melancholy to slightly louder melancholy.

Peace & Love remains something of a mood piece--it’s ruminative, not rousing, never succumbing to navel-gazing but not suited for large crowds--which does mean it doesn’t quite have the undeniable power of How to Walk Away, but when a softly melancholy mood strikes, this provides comforting consolation.

With its driving guitars and massive choruses, The Constant is yet another highly catchy album from Story of the Year that will easily live up to their fans' expectations while making converts out of those unfamiliar with them.

Fixin' the Charts really comes down to the jokes and the concept--how much you appreciate it will depend on how much the idea appeals to you in the first place, and how well you can tolerate Argos' sung/spoken/ranted vocal approach, but it's definitely good for at least a chuckle.

As fringe collections go, it is worthwhile, especially for fans of Mathematics. Just don’t be surprised when the faithful turn against the set: they already have too many “pretty good” comps to choose from.

Genuine Negro Jig is perfectly recorded, balanced between the best sound this century can deliver and the rustic, throwback feel of an old-time string band in action at a picnic, dance or rent party in the '30s. That’s the accomplishment here.

While Pearson would likely be flattered to be told that this disc resembles a hybrid of Michael Mayer's Immer (stern, dramatic; Joy Division) and Triple R's Friends (comparatively brighter and outgoing; New Order), he might also find the description a little limiting. Yet this disc does have each one of its elder siblings’ charms: a gentle buildup and easy finish, extended trance-like passages, spongy rhythms, seemingly incongruent tracks melded with ease and restraint, almost subliminally tense transitions from menace to bliss, and even some whispered vocals.

All in all, this is a rare sophomore album that widens the band's sound without narrowing its appeal.

Though this emotional nakedness is an unusual move after Made in the Dark pushed Hot Chip to a new level of attention and acclaim, it also shows they’re in it for the long haul.

Forty years after his debut, I’m New Here contains the artful immediacy that distinguishes Scott-Heron’s best art. The modern production adds immeasurably to that quality, underscores his continued relevance in reflecting the times, and opens his work to a new generation of listeners while giving older ones a righteous jolt.

Horace Andy and Hope Sandoval front some impressive productions, and Damon Albarn's "Saturday Come Slow" is one of his best post-Blur features (including Gorillaz), but overall Heligoland lacks the majesty and might of classic Massive Attack.

The material sits within the band’s canon well enough to please longtime fans, and listeners looking for some kind of middle ground between Evanescence, late-period Queensrÿche and Fall Out Boy will more than likely find a few wicked gems to hang their heads to.

Lacking rhythmic hypnotism and relatable most to those who are experiencing solitude created by romantic desertion, this is not your mother's Sade album.

The sisterly harmonies and country-tinged arrangements are pleasant enough, but they focus on atmosphere at the expense of melody, a move that leaves the listener emotionally stirred but unable to recall a single melody after the disc’s conclusion.

Causers of This sounds like a dance-pop mixtape plunged underwater -- it's all smeary synthesizers, chopped-up dance beats, and washes of reverb.

If Crows was the first album from a new artist, it would certainly be hailed as the debut of a powerful new voice, and the fact that it comes from someone who has already been making fine music in notably different styles makes the accomplishment all the more impressive.