Break off a single or two and leave the rest for aspiring producers to study.

Overall Moment Bends is a return to form, if not quite as inspired as Architecture in Helsinki's best moments.

Black Laden Crown is at its best when the band keeps it slow and low, as they do with great success on workmanlike candelabra-burners like "Last Ride," "Skulls & Daisies," and "Pull the Sun" and it's in those solemn moments of churning, Jim Morrison-esque torment and woe that Glenn Danzig sounds the most sinister and at ease.

"Boat Trip" is the album's strongest moment, a gently treading meeting of spacy Fleet Foxes-style harmonies and buried aquatic melodies cribbed from post-SMiLE-era Brian Wilson mania.

If you don't listen closely, it goes down easy, but listening with just a slightly critical ear reveals those similarities [to Dave Matthews] as near farcical.

On their third campaign to open the public's eyes to the ills of modern society, Los Angeles industrial anarchists 3Teeth expand the scope of their assault with the powerful Metawar, a hulking monster that makes shutdown.exe sound tame in comparison.

This collection is a nice gift for fans who wanted all these stray tracks gathered up in one easily accessible place and shows that Drake's cast-offs aren't far from his keepers and his minor moves are still worth following just in case he comes up with something genius. Nothing here quite rises to that level, but overall, it's a solid entry in his ever-growing catalog.

If the individual message may wind up fading like yesterday's newspapers, the music will keep The Monsanto Years burning bright.

It's a familiar mix of music, to be sure, but Fragile Future also sounds more valid than other emo albums, even if its hooks aren't quite as muscular as those on the band's previous disc.

The obsession Cradle of Filth have with post-production is the very thing that removes the power from this set and makes it more of a wry--and unintentionally comedic--piece and impossible to take seriously.

Despite Robbins being literally unable to sing, it's a better album than anyone had any right to expect.

The album has the kind of off-the-cuff, palpable sense of fun that happens when two old friends lay down tracks together.

Forward is a delightful return that focuses on the Heavies' love of smooth late-'70s/early-'80s sounds.

Delivers a denouement and a love letter to fans with an assured set rooted in the genre's sonic hallmarks.

The album is generally enjoyable, and it's doubtful T.I. has to worry about being dethroned within the near future.

Fasciinatiion clicks enough of the time to make it a step forward from "Wet From Birth," and despite its unevenness, at times it can be fasciinatiing.

Prism [is] a tighter, cleaner record than its predecessors--there are no extremes here, nothing that pushes the boundaries of either good taste or tackiness.

From Here on In often meanders around, getting by on its influences, rather than seeking the necessary hooks and melodies.

Bicycles & Tricycles is a bit of a letdown, especially after a three-year absence.

The problem is that the songwriting has gotten a little mannered, a little undistinguished, and the performances, while sturdy, tend to be slightly flat.

Confidence bursts throughout, and for a band that has been around seven years and has never released a studio full-length album until now, achieving nearly epic-like status is quite impressive.

With The Fabled City, Morello's growth as a topical songwriter is enormous; he's brought the singer/songwriter into a cultural discussion, a dialogue, where we can dialogue not only about characters (who are treated with dignity as speaking subjects, not merely as objects to hang a tune on) and their struggles, but also with popular music again, as a ready tool for awareness of the world around us.

Amid the many features and incredible dynamism that mark every UNKLE full-length, there are no songs to grab onto and little of real essence.

While the murky atmosphere and late-night pulse of songs like "Push" and "Fast Seconds," might not immediately scream fun, there's something undeniably engaging about them.

When It Was Now is a solid debut that proves Trojans wasn't a fluke.

The end results feel curiously constrained, as if Twain was dancing in front of a mirror instead of underneath a mirrorball.

Layus still sings them like they're gospel verses, channeling enough sincerity and bold self-assurance to make up for the fact that he's the umpteenth person to compare his love to an ocean. This is the band's best album to date. Looks like the third time's the charm, boys.

Seven Rainbows only really does justice to [Gold's] undeniable talents when it abandons its Woodstock-aping ambitions.