The album flows easier than Drift and Home, yet it somehow comes off as comparatively fragmentary, with 15 tracks playing out in just over half an hour.

Despite its many head-bobbing moments, Danger in the Club feels more like two EPs--one that builds on 180's exuberance and one that explores new territory--than a consistent album.

Rituals oozes dread, but ultimately it's that contrast between finery and paranoia that makes it so vital.

Even if the first cut is the deepest, second album Fast Food is still wicked sharp.

Despite these small tweaks to his established, well-oiled formula, Hypnophobia feels like a natural follow-up to Cabinet, with Gardner not looking to do much of anything new.

There are no outright clunkers in the mix, but a light trim would have further distilled the power of this excellent sophomore release.

Heirs demonstrates a band that can be articulate without speaking in words, and And So I Watch You from Afar are a smart, inventive group who continue to progress with each visit to the recording studio.

If Metz's debut was unnerving in its most powerful moments, II is the rock equivalent of Wes Craven's Last House on the Left; just keep telling yourself, "It's only an album ... only an album .... only an album ..."

On California Nights, they made a risky choice and it pays off in a big way. They come off assured and confident, fully in control of the songs and the sound in a way they never have before.

The Waterfall suggests maybe My Morning Jacket would be better off doing a few things well rather than losing their way down several different paths.

Without their old-timey affectations, the band seems interchangeable with any number of blandly attractive AAA rockers, a group that favors sound over song.

The album borders on monochromatic at times (possibly because there are no songs by Graham Lewis, who provided some of Red Barked Tree and Change Becomes Us' finest tracks), yet its subtle subversions are thoroughly Wire, and thoroughly befitting the band at this stage in its career.

No Control shows it's a better and more fitting choice for the band than one might expect, and it's arguably their best work to date.

At times, Lucid Dreaming can get a little too hazy and downbeat for its own good, but as a portrait of a duo in motion, it suggests Say Lou Lou are heading in the right direction.

Free from any sort of major-label constraints, the band sounds both invigorated and restless, and while deciphering their skewed Danish pop sensibilities can often prove challenging, it's well worth the effort, as the results can just as often be breathtaking.

Millencolin are no doubt a tad older and wiser, but even bereft of any of that context, True Brew manages to sound refreshingly vital, which is more than can be said about many of their contemporaries.

Russell's view of history may be romantic but it is also gritty as hell, and enduring. This is his masterpiece.

This is a record for longtime fans: it not only evokes warm memories, but it speaks to the band's present.

Gary McClure knows how to write a strong melody and a great hook, and he's no slouch on guitar; those are gifts that would serve him well under any circumstances, but on American Wrestlers he's shown that he can make a great record with any old junk at his disposal, and quite simply, that's just what he's done here

The stylistic range of Jekyll + Hyde proves that ZBB's reach is almost limitless, and this set will more than likely delight the group's legions of fans.

The band is undeniably tight and flush with ideas, and Hale is such a force of nature that the occasional foray into AOR snooze-ville can be forgiven.

The only disappointment here is that the album is basically only five songs, so here's hoping it's just a taste of more to come.

Ultimately, The Longest River is a brave album in which Chaney presents her music without filters, and reveals herself as a major talent who embraces the past and present with confidence and remarkable skill. In short, she really is that good.

Throughout Perfect Abandon's nine vocal songs, Brosseau's unhurried delivery transports the listener from her own world into his seamlessly.

Perhaps Musique de Film Imaginé is intended as a résumé item for the Brian Jonestown Massacre, but if it is, it's a fine sample of Anton Newcombe's work, and anyone who thinks Take It from the Man! or Strung Out in Heaven represented the limits of his abilities will encounter a pleasant surprise with this album.

As they navigate these darker emotional waters, it's hard not to wonder what Hemming and his crew would sound like if they loosened their collars just a bit.

The album cools down with ambient interlude "Miyajima" and midtempo closer "The Waiting," providing a patient ending to an album that gracefully deals with personal upset and disappointment.

Deep in the Iris honors emotional states that aren't easy to express--musically or otherwise--and brings a clarity to them that make it some of the band's most empathetic music.