It's a vital record that charts a completely different direction, one that's less innovative and more mainstream than Future Chaos, but succeeds nonetheless because of its match of Simenon with ace techno producer Gui Boratto,.

Yellow Swans' literal swan song found the two still exploring their way through often majestic drone--if the roots of the band had always been as much in uncontrolled experimentation as in serene contemplation, here the two sides found a fine fusion.

If you can take Hologram Jams lightly and come to terms with the fact that Jaguar Love’s post-punk and rock pretenses are fully behind them, then it’s a fun outing. Ridiculous lyrics, bristling energy, ‘80s synths, and booty beats are the core of the record.

John Hiatt's muse hasn't stopped keeping him on task, and the work he's doing remains satisfying, and anyone who can crank out an album as good as The Open Road every 18 months or so would be well advised to keep up the good work.

Endless Falls' mix of old and new maintains Morgan's reputation as one of the most consistent, and consistently interesting, producers out there.

Despite the obvious stylistic proficiency at play, Double Jointer is a bit too au courant (maybe it's all that reverb) to have much of a long-term impact.

Some listeners may pine for the less streamlined, less electronic, arguably more personable style of their debut, which after all peddled a distinctly different shade of retro-pop nostalgia, but those willing to move with the times (or rather, the 20-year revival cycle) will agree that the 'Beat have crafted another winner.

One-Armed Bandit dazzles early on... Later portions of the album are larded with so many graceless, attention-deficit hazards that it’s unknown exactly what the band (or is that “groop”?) was attempting to accomplish.

The Golden Archipelago, a toothy, epic examination of island life, both physical and metaphysical, is enigmatic to say the least.

If anything, the album almost feels like a spiritual sequel to their full-length debut, "Methodrone," with its similarly lengthy tracks and more studio-focused approach rather than live rock & roll bash and crash, but where that album drowned a bit in the end, Who Killed Sgt. Pepper? finds its creators at a remarkable new high.

If there were any justice, Ain't No Grave would be the last album released under Cash's name. It is not only a compelling contribution to his legacy, but an offering that closes the historic American Recordings series with the same stamp of quality that began it.

Dear God, I Hate Myself is also the band’s most overtly electronic album in some time, with several songs composed on a Nintendo DS that gives the darkness of “Apple for a Brain” and “Secret Motel” an unpretentious, somehow friendly feel.

At its best, these songs have the feel of an intimate live performance; at their worst, they’re lovely, but exhausting. Have One on Me is quite a technical achievement, but since Newsom has proven she can do just about anything, next time she shouldn’t try to do everything.

Michael Trent receives co-writing credits for roughly half of these tracks, but I Liked It Better When You Had No Heart is a Butch Walker album through and through. It’s also one of his best, proof that Walker still can’t take a step without bumping into a usable hook.

The result is a frustrating listening experience that makes you wish that the change in their sound didn't prove to be so fleeting. That being said, if you've stood beside the band for this long, there's nothing here to make you sorry that you did.

Snakes for the Divine is another physically punishing tour de force from a band whose fans will settle for nothing less, and have rarely been let down--certainly not this time around.

The Meat of Life might sound like "another Clem Snide album," but considering that it wasn't so long ago that it looked like this band was over and done, getting another serving of what these musicians do so well is more than welcome even if it doesn't break much new ground.

The results are alternately ghostly, sexy, and nocturnal, but they’re always moving.

Though it's a little perverse for the band to bury its explosive moments, it proves that there's more to Past Lives than rehashing the Blood Brothers' legacy. They're still finding their footing on Tapestry of Webs, but they're going interesting places.

While the music of Wolf People is undeniably vibrant, vital, and visceral, it does not attempt to put any modern (or post-modern) spin on its building blocks; rather, it embraces all the aforementioned influences and moves out into the world as a living, breathing, very natural extension of them.

By and large, European strikes a nice balance between genuine and theatrical, shambling and shiny.

The slocore tag Picastro received early on in some corners has a vague relevance, but on a song like "Pig & Sucker," the sense of compelling, unsettled strangeness is much greater than most bands could pull off.

While hardcore fans may argue--a bit--over the sum total, even they will ultimately agree that this is the only truly representative portrait of Was (Not Was) in all their incarnations; and besides, it’s a stone killer of a party record.

This self-titled album is a fitting tribute to Toure’s and Diabate’s genius and friendship, and is a beautiful farewell.

While some of Constellations lulls a bit, seven-minute suite "Steerage and the Lamp," a snow flurry of Lowe's rolling piano arpeggios accentuated by subtle strings, captures the classical wonderment of Balmorhea at its finest.

((Un)) is a very impressive first record that shows tons of promise. If Black can keep the right amount of wonky in his pop, he could do something truly wonderful.

Sigh No More is an impressive debut, but one that impresses more for its promise of the future than it does its wildly inconsistent place in the present.

Falling Down a Mountain isn't exactly a major reinvention, either, but it does back up the golden-hued sky gracing its cover with some of their most upbeat and optimistic songs to date (keep in mind those are relative terms), and a liberal extension of the looseness they've been gradually settling into since 1999's Simple Pleasure.