Organic as dirt, and full of an acidhead's sense of space, this one's a winner from start to finish.

Performed with a full backing band, which includes guitarist Dan Sullivan from Nad Navillus, Songs: Ohia stretches out on Fantasma, allowing Molina's songs to breathe but never sounding gratuitous, like a slightly subdued Crazy Horse.

At this point they have worked through their formative stage, and prove themselves capable of delivering a solid album with diverse songwriting and a consistent style. And even if that style sounds derivative and summons the inevitable Dischord comparisons, it's impressive nonetheless.

It's unlikely to storm the charts like their first two records, especially since there aren't standout singles like on the earlier albums, but overall the record works better, perhaps their best album.

What makes it a slightly better album than Rule 3:36, though, is the album's consistency.

They sound more natural than they ever have on record, and Brian Vander Ark and Donny Brown respond by their best set of songs.

Her calm, hushed, clear singing only emphasizes the emotional torment the songs trace. The result is an album on a par with her best work.

While the acoustic D sounds better, weirder, and purer, this still is a hell of a record, particularly because it rocks so damn hard.

The album seems to reflect craft rather than passion, and while it's often splendid craft, the fire that made Whiskeytown's best work so special isn't evident much of the time.

Let It Come Down is another masterfully made Spiritualized album, but its very ambitions sometimes overwhelm it.

Practically a concept album about the bittersweet nature of nostalgia--specifically, nostalgia for, you guessed it, summer.

The downside is that, much like his earliest material, Change Is Coming has a light feel that's undeniably enjoyable but also a bit tossed-off.

This album is a study in repetition and rhythm, the same kinds that Callahan first toyed with on songs like "Bloodflow" and "Justice Aversion" from Dongs of Sevotion.

Macy Gray lets her freak flag fly, almost to the detriment of everything else.

V is among the band's most confident and inspired releases.

Though some of the thrashier songs like "C.Q." and "T.K." and a bottom-heavy song sequence detract from the album's flow, Internal Wrangler is still a strong debut from one of England's most promising and distinctive indie bands.

He does his best job yet at balancing smarts and accessibility.

It's an evocative and wildly creative, but not immediately accessible collection.

Not just his best album since Blood on the Tracks, but the loosest, funniest, warmest record he's made since The Basement Tapes.

Moody, majestic, and unpredictable, All Is Dream plays like Deserter's Songs' evil twin, polarizing that album's gently trippy, symphonic pop into paranoid and exuberant extremes.

As good a record as any he's made, possibly his best.

The Convincer is a laid-back record that simply feels good.

A fully realized masterpiece.

While the album lapses occasionally with a couple of patches of redundant production, Date of Birth is a strong follow-up from a crew who keep it real by nature.

Orbital is either uninspired or saving up for something better next time.

Grand and flirting at the same time with the ridiculous -- the kind of disc to listen to when you are in love.

It's a noticeably more focused effort. Though it lacks Good Morning Spider's sprawling brilliance, it's possibly Linkous' most effective, and affecting, collection of songs.

This is what Pavement would have sounded like if they became the equivalent of Sebadoh, cranking out a version of Slanted & Enchanted each year, turning out records that satisfy listeners that want Pavement without unpredictability, humor, diversity and, yes, mess - without SM Jenkins, that is.