While the Osbourne-fronted and Dio-fronted versions of Black Sabbath are, again, very different bands, this is an album that matches its moment every bit as perfectly as "Paranoid" did back in 1970.

These are slight, subtle progressions but what impresses is how thoroughly My One and Only Thrill lives up to the promise of her debut, offering another album that is as enchanting in its sound as it is in its substance.

Even without 'Neon Jesus'--the single that garnered Crocodiles quite a bit of web attention just before this release--Summer of Hate stands strong as a tremendous debut: one that pays heavy tribute to its influences while never seeming overly derivative.

Remind Me Where the Light Is ultimately concludes as the luminous successor to "Trading Twilight for Daylight"--bright where that album was nocturnal, open-armed where "Twilight" was introspective, and altogether illustrative of Great Northern's growth as songwriters and performers.

High on Jackson Hill doesn't quite trump "Fables" the way that album outclassed its precursor, but it's hardly accurate to call this a disappointment.

Following on from a much earlier collaborative single, the first full-length effort pulling together Modeselektor and Apparat--despite a name that suggests a Depeche-loving rodent--has plenty to offer without entirely being a full-on slam dunk.

This is an interesting diversion giving insight into the band's coordinates.

You might not trust Thee Oh Sees to give you a ride home after a gig, but if you're looking for a seriously buzzy rave-up, Help certainly delivers the goods.

Maybe it's a clue that Jones has already moved on and that there's not much here to get excited about, past some high-powered singles.

As a whole, it's not one of their best records, considering the size of their discography, but it's not a bad little record. Fans will like it since the band is still shining as a tight unit and hasn't lost a step musically.

The performances are hit-or-miss--and many of them are trumped by Folds' own pair of songs--but the originality remains fairly consistent, yielding an album that should delight a cappella enthusiasts and, at the very least, interest the average Folds fan.

Empire of the Sun's debut offering of electro-pop experiments and dancefloor daydreams is well timed indeed, arriving just as the buzz surrounding MGMT's "Oracular Spectacular" has started to recede.

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.

Dark Days is vibrant and alive, an ever-flowing, ever-shifting, carousel of sound--some might miss the emphasis on song, but it's a ride that's hard to resist.

Bun E's very presence suggests that Tinted Windows might have a bit of Cheap Trick's feverish rock & roll, but the group errs on the side of caution, the product of a bunch of longtime veterans getting back to basics and playing their first love. While the former cancels out the latter ever so slightly--there's not much abandon here, only precision--the pleasure of the popcraft outweighs much of the caution in the construction, especially when the insistent hooks are delivered with such puppy-dog earnestness by Taylor Hanson.

On the whole, Sounds of the Universe is a grower, relying on a few listens to fully take effect, but when it does, it shows Depeche Mode are still able to combine pop-hook accessibility and their own take on "roots" music for an electronic age with sonic experimentation and recombination.

A slightly more polished and accessible album than their last, showing the band tightening their reigns slightly and turning in some of their tightest, cleanest work to date.

They may be eternal adolescents, but they're also true believers in what made rock & roll great in the first place. They won't hide--can't hide--that enthusiasm, and it's contagious on Art Brut vs. Satan.

Potato Hole isn't a slab of greasy Stax soul, either. It is what it is, a new Booker T. Jones album, and hopefully it won't take another 20 years to get to the next one.

Asleep in the Bread Isle is an everyday suburban rap album, if there is such a thing.

Mean Everything to Nothing has its moments and shows Hull to be a decent enough songwriter, but there's ultimately too much outright mimicry on display and not enough originality for it to have any longevity.

Too intelligent and well-crafted to dismiss but too disjointed and self-indulgent to really embrace, Love the Future is equally frustrating and promising.

If My Maudlin Career falls a tiny bit short of "Let's Get Out of This Country," and it does, it's only because that album was so wonderful.

Upon the first listen, The Bright Mississippi merely seems like a joyous good time, but subsequent spins focus attention on just how rich and multi-layered this wonderful music is.

Even if this isn't much "Deeper" than the average Three 6 Mafia album, the glitz and guts of Deeper are a big step up, making Ross sound like a Miami-fied version of Young Jeezy.

Even though Cryptacize remain difficult to pin down, the chances they take on Mythomania bring them a little bit closer to reach.

As a cold description, this modbilly beat sounds pretty interesting, especially because the group goes to great pains to rearrange many of its covers, but as an album Modbilly drags, offering endless permutations of the same plodding boogie.

Cage the Elephant didn't exist until 2005, but as this self-titled album demonstrates, their ability to be influenced by alternative rock and classic rock simultaneously is a definite plus.