This is a beautifully crafted, stripped-down recording, showcasing once more that E uses searing honesty and a canny sense of pop, rock, blues, and everything else to chronicle his own strange path through life and its labyrinth.

Not only was the wait worth it, Archives feels like it was 20 years in the making. It's an extraordinary work that redefines what an autobiography can be.

Rancid's been doing this a long time and while they'll never recapture the exact same power and glory they exuded in the '90s', on Let the Dominos Fall they show they've got more than enough of each to get by in grand style.

While it is neither as monumental as "Donuts" nor as exemplary as the "Dillanthology" discs, Jay Stay Paid is close to a must for any casual Dilla admirer.

Roadhouse Sun sounds like he's still making his "Greetings from Asbury Park"--the kind of record whose clunkers are obvious enough to put a chink into the album's very real virtues.

While not every song is a rousing success, Blood feels fresh and alive--and underscores that Franz Ferdinand should take chances like this more often.

Crossing the Rubicon is the sound of a band reaching their potential as artists and it's very satisfying to see and, more importantly, to hear.

This one leaves its generational competition in the dust and is wise beyond this songwriter's years, and to be frank, leaves his own previous identity as simply a bedroom balladeer to history.

It captures him as a working musician, pushing his first album hard, trying to get his name and music known, not caring about anything outside of the moment--all things that offer a potent, stirring reminder of Buckley's power and grace.

Because the album is so continuously lush and candy-coated with a shoegaze gleam, no particular song really sticks out. Instead, hooks surface slowly from the electro-wash, rewarding repeated listens.

It's clear that Veckatimest was made for a lot of listening. Nearly every song feels like the musical equivalent of a big meal: there's lots to digest, and coming back for second (and thirds, and more) is necessary.

Beyond containing the band's best, most efficient songwriting, the album also stands apart from the first three studio albums by projecting a cool punch that is unforced.

This album marks the return of former bassist Twiggy Ramirez to the band, but as ever the Manson personality/persona towers over everything else, and his two or three musical ideas are repeated throughout the disc, with only a few exceptions.

Everything about Amanda Leigh is just a shade too precise--the production too transparent, the singing too on the nose, the mood too subdued--to achieve the homespun quality Moore so cherishes, but a large part of Mandy's appeal is her good taste and her clean way with a song, something that is readily apparent and often winning on Amanda Leigh.

On Eating Us, Black Moth Super Rainbow prove that they can grow up a little without growing boring, and still deliver exactly the same amount of unhealthy sweetness as before.

It's a fair guess that he has a workshop full of chorus, flange, and delay pedals from that era at his disposal, considering that every instrument and vocal line is run through one effect or another, making most of the album unintelligible or indecipherable, but it's just that limitless, everything-including-the-kitchen-sink way of working that makes Blank Dogs so special and interesting.

Monoliths and Dimensions succeeds because it is the sound of a new music formed from the ashen forge of drone, rock, and black metal.

While Fake Surfers might not have the immediate impact of Finberg's earlier albums, but it takes his music in some bold directions without losing its smart-alecky, catchy-despite-itself essence.

Harmonium gets tiresome toward the end. However, fans of light, clean, crisp and non-threatening psychedelia--as in '60s children's TV music, library music, groovy instrumentals with a flute lead, etc.--will be delighted, and rightfully so.

A big part of the energy of Dave Alvin and the Guilty Women comes from the musicians, and while some might think Alvin might be aiming for novelty factor by recording with five women, one listen will wipe those thoughts from your mind.

Ciao! is at once a tremendously enjoyable piece of dancefloor fluff and an impressively unified statement from a master synthesist of electronic pop pleasures.

The Glass Bead Game is the most forward-thinking and sublimely executed of James Blackshaw's releases to date.

There's almost a subversive aspect to how City Center doesn't play to Thomas' known strengths, but the risk pays off: City Center adds another fascinating dimension to his music.

At her best, like on the slow-burn opener 'I Hate the Way,' the lovelorn Xanax and sambuca anthem 'Other Too Endless,' and the rousing single 'Nitrogen Pink,' she successfully bridges the gap between teen pop and adult alternative rock, but when she gets stuck in the confessional too long, the results are more indulgent than powerful.

His flow is so good, his wordplay so sharp, it seems churlish to wish that he addressed something than his long-standing obsessions and demons.

Thanks to the meticulous production values, the insane catchiness of the hooks, and the pure and true emotional underpinnings below all the gloss, the album is a total success of both sound and vision.

Amos doesn't record as much as most artists, and it must be tempting to give fans everything she can, but in this case, it's hurt her a bit. Still there, are many tracks here worth adding to one's Amos shelf.

Compilations can be tricky to assemble, but Around the Well is both comprehensive and conveniently presented, with each disc representing the two amorphous halves of Iron & Wine's career.