There is no better place to spend 45 minutes than in Lay It Down's dreamy, sensual, gritty, and tender sound world.

Newly focused energy, willfully restrained arrangements, and taut compositions give the set a sheer emotional power that no Spiritualized recording has ever displayed before, making it, quite possibly, their finest outing yet.

Bring Ya to the Brink is one of the more intriguing detours along the way.

Their songwriting and vocals are actually better than Air, closer to Scissor Sisters again in their ability to write great pop songs and deliver them with flair.

Same Old Man shows he's learned a lot since then, and you can hear the lessons shining through in this music.

Consistency isn't Pants' strong point, and the latter half of the CD falters with a spattering of sparse instrumentals that feel more like skeletal after-thoughts than fully developed creations. At the grandest moments, Pants accomplishes his mission of re-creating the dance-happy fun funk of Chromeo and Cameo, and the cardboard-spinning electro boogie of Arabian Prince and Egyptian Lover.

Rap music has rarely gotten more virtuosic and creative than it does here.

Loyal listeners looking for a more "personal" album from the band will have fewer complaints, but the casual fan will miss the more dynamic and vibrant elements of their earlier work.

At its strongest, with songs like the archly titled 'Regal Regalia' and 'Papering Fix,' the band kicks up a huge sounding storm while still providing space for the almost preternaturally clean singing boring through the mix--not as an artificially high volume element, more like serenity in the midst of a storm.

Expanding and improving upon their already striking debut, No Way Down is a stunning accomplishment on so many levels: the amount of care and attention to detail that so clearly went into its creation; its stylistic uniqueness; and its sheer, subjective beauty.

Anywhere I Lay My Head doesn't quite work, but it can't quite be dismissed, either.

Mudhoney remain bloody but unbowed, heavyweight champions of fuzz and feedback, and on the evidence of The Lucky Ones, no one with any sense is going to challenge their title anytime soon; they built this strange machine, and they can drive it better than anyone before or since.

Arm's Way is the sound of a band forgetting what made them fun and highly listenable and instead grasping for a grand statement that is far beyond their reach.

This time out, he's a single short and couple songs too long, but his back is strong enough to carry the weight, proving once again he's one of the Dirty South's most reliable voices.

Considering that it's an album of leftovers--one B-side from "Yes, Virginia...," four unreleased recordings, one old demo, a cover, and five new recordings, to be exact--the songs on No, Virginia... are unexpectedly strong.

In-fashion vocal effects, which Summer certainly does not need, detract from a handful of these tracks, but as a whole, the album won't have trouble pleasing fans who just want to hear their queen have a blast and tear it up.

That's the ultimate irony of 3 Doors Down as they mature: try as they may to pour out their angst-ridden hearts, by riding out their success and smoothing out their music they've turned into mildly aggro background music at malls and movie theaters across the nation.

Most of all it will go down like honey for Mates of State fans who have been following the band's progression from an edgy lo-fi duo to the indie rock hit making machine they have so gracefully become.

If you don't like the Beach Boys, you won't like this.

If you've been sticking by the group for long, you'll be rewarded by El Rey's brutal honesty, hard-won wisdom, and first-rate songcraft, and you'll relish the sound of a band trying to recapture a brilliant sound from their past and succeeding completely.

It's almost impossible to dislike Swimming's pastel beauty, but it's nearly as difficult to work up much enthusiasm about it.

The sound is fleshed out much more than Joan of Arc has been for some time, and it's an easy album to be affected by — at least for fans of confessional post-rock, Chicago style.

Butler's production makes her solid voice and intriguing songwriting into an excellent album; although he stays in the background, the occasional guitar flourishes or sweetened strings make Rockferry a better debut than Joss Stone's or Amy Winehouse's.

There are some solid album tracks that recall the more daring aspects of the debut, particularly the abstract, dark-hued cool of the opener, "Ghouls," and the catchy and energetic "Tonight." But the rest of Brain Thrust Mastery consists of pleasantly tuneful pop songs that barely register with the listener even after several repetitions.

Narrow Stairs is far from desperate, however, and the album's willingness to steer Death Cab into unfamiliar territory (or, to reference an earlier lyric, "into the dark"), is by far its strongest asset.

The Old 97's sound youthful and newly energized, having returned to Dallas and relocated that beloved crossroads between twangy country rock and tight, economic power pop.

The nice thing about the soulful shimmer of We Sing is that it's so slick that it's easy to ignore the gibberish spilling out of Mraz's mouth and just enjoy the sunny, easy sound.

Thing of the Past succeeds on three different fronts. Certainly, excellent song selection is one, inspired musicianship and arrangements another, but the actual sound of the recording is equally important in putting Thing of the Past across.