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.

Divided by Night is indeed varied and polished, and it includes guest features by the bucketful, but it reveals again that, more than anything, the Crystal Method are merely clever regurgitators of the past, particularly chained to making extroverted dance music that never innovates and rarely excites.

Battle for the Sun, the band's sixth album and first with drummer Steve Forrest, is given a steel-reinforced production by David Bottrill, a sound that could conceivably be placed on mainstream rock radio if that format still existed, or if it were used as a vehicle for something else than Placebo's music, which remains resolutely pitched toward a niche audience, no matter how many little frills of horns or farting synths grace their guitar grind.

The result is an interesting, unexpected piece of work, devoid of a militantly commercial single like Empire's self-titled track, and lacking the shaggy Madchester vibes that Christopher Karloff brought to 2004's Kasabian.

Vines and Trying Times the seams are showing, which makes it a little bit harder to enjoy, even if there are certainly moments where all their craft and charm click, resulting in some fine pop that points out what's missing from the rest of the record.

On its own, listeners may be lulled to the chilly deeps of sleep, but paired with the accompanying DVD, they'll be wiping the salt spray from their brows and pulling long rows of kelp out of their teeth.

Joan of Arc's work on a whole generally tends to be pretty loose, but sorting through the remnants and mood pieces on Flowers can make "Boo! Human" seem absolutely cohesive in comparison. Oh well. It's still totally listenable and likeable.

It's a decent set of modern R&B, dominated by seductive slow jams, that stimulates a little more often than it fades into the background.

Some listeners may find this approach riotous, since the humor is pushed right toward the front, while many may miss how their original recordings blurred the lines between real rock and fantasy.

The bulk of Back and Fourth is more insular, though, serving as Pete Yorn's personal therapy rather than his audience's ear candy.

While Far is far from bad, it doesn't quite live up to expectations, either, based on all the talent involved in making it and how fully Spektor expressed herself on "Begin to Hope."

There's a lot of Busdriver on Jhelli Beam, while his themes and lyrics have become even more dense, which makes for a challenging listen that only fitfully rewards the scrutiny.

His debut for Domino, 2009's Insides, is his first record that many people will hear and it's a promising, but flawed, debut.

Like fellow abstract lyricist Kristin Hersh, her quill is aimed at the introverted, resulting in work that is both deeply personal and frustratingly impenetrable.

Rabid fans won't mind much; just make sure you're sold on Hell's Winter before taking this bumpier ride through Cage's inner turmoil.

All too often, that energy is lost when a talented young band like this enters the studio, and RAA do their best to transcend the limitations of their home recorded calling card, but that energy eating reaper follows Hometowns around like a cop car on a Saturday night.

At times, WWPJ do give into their dour side too much, and while there's no denying that their dynamic shifts and all-or-nothing climaxes pack a punch, songs such as 'This Is My House, This Is My Home' and 'It's Thunder and It's Lightning' get repetitive. Fortunately, as These Four Walls unfolds, WWPJ show that they can do more than just anthemic angst.

They have nothing on their mind other than making basic, black-and-white modern rock, and they do so efficiently on Leave This Town, a sophomore album that's every bit as satisfying as the first.

Because the sound is of paramount importance, this does succeed as pure radio-ready product, which is enough for Sparks to sustain her momentum if not enough to give her some kind of identity to build a career upon.

God Help the Girl should probably just be viewed as a flawed work or a semi-successful adventure by a solo artist who needs his band to be truly great.

Person to Person is a pleasant enough listen rather than a gripping one, somewhere between enjoyable inspiration and careful exercise, a flavoring in the general indie rock milieu of the early 21st century that, for the moment, can have no greater impact.

The influence of that 1972 double LP can be heard in the similarly homespun production of Under the Covers, Vol. 2 but where Rundgren was open-ended, Sweet neatly ties up every loose end with the care of a pop fetishist, making sure all the harmonies and guitar licks are in place, never adding any untasteful elements.

The record isn't a failure by any stretch; there is enough going on to make it at least worth a listen or two if you love the sound of 1990s American indie rock as much as Wye Oak do.

Alternating between fingerpicked acoustic and electric, the remaining tracks are hardly deficient of introverted charm, but with the exception of the semi-propulsive 'Rebecca,' the pace is sluggish at best, resulting in a collection of songs best listened to in threes, or all at once with one's forehead pressed against the window waiting for the rain to pass.

Add it all up and this not-so-conceptual-after-all album points out both the rapper's limitations and his strengths. Call it a draw.

Welcome to the Walk Alone ends up as neither a success nor a failure; instead, it feels more like a missed opportunity compounded by a bad decision.

Party Rock is an indulgent record with plenty of fun and immaturity, but a real need for a growing musical identity.

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.