This isn't Local H's best album, but it's certainly their most daring and emotionally naked, and the results are truly impressive.

There's a pronounced chamber music feel to much of the instrumentation, particularly with the liberal use of cello and violin drones, as well as harp accents. Often it's darker and tougher, however, than some other artists who follow similar lines.

Tooth of Crime is a smart, absorbing, and beautifully disquieting collection of songs that could have come from no one else but T Bone Burnett, and it shows that one of America's best songwriters may be working at a very deliberate pace but he still has some remarkable things left to tell us.

Splash's bratty Lil Wayne-meets-Michael Henderson falsetto can wear thin across 66 sprawling minutes (the crew would benefit from a second lead voice), but something far more problematic would have to be in play to impair this stomping good time.

It also strikes a blow for taking chances and not resting on your accomplishments, but most importantly, Couples is an exciting, challenging listen full of brains, daring, and plenty of icy heart.

Despite all the intensity, the Last Shadow Puppets have a light touch--their songs are short and don't overstay their welcome, and the whole affair is just arty and indulgent enough to make it special.

There was a variety of styles on Trust Me, none of which detracted from its overall sense of cohesion.

No Age turn noise into gold on Nouns.

Gavin DeGraw won't change things, either, as it pretty much offers more of the same as "Chariot," polishing up the sound, turning it into something bigger and slicker, but not changing his vaguely rootsy, vaguely soulful pop a whit.

The pop textures are more evident, the melodies are more hook-laden, and the overall vibe is more laid-back than past releases, varying in moods from positively gleeful to terribly melancholy.

While The Supreme Balloon's nostalgic synthetic playground is a smaller statement than some of Matmos' other albums, it's still a strong one.

As it makes these digressions seem funny, not fussy, and that's ultimately the charm of Momofuku: it's captures a loose, natural Elvis Costello, somebody that hasn't been captured on record in years. It's still a Costello that plugs Lexus, writes operas and plays jazz festivals, but here he's not trying to prove anything, he's just making music and that's why it's one of his most enjoyable latter-day records.

Home Before Dark offers aesthetic proof that "12 Songs" was no fluke. This is a much stronger, less "civilized" album.

Despite the occasional misstep, Scream shows that the bandmembers are ready and able to embrace their growing abilities.

The bottom line is that this diversity is not a lack of focus, but growth and development that make the band stand out from the pack, making the effort to spin this a few times yield very big rewards.

This is a stunning set, with lots of lyrical meat to chew on, and music to give one chills.

It's some of Firewater's angriest, most poignant, and most accomplished music.

It will take a minimum of several spins all the way through to even try to grasp all that's going on here. It's fair to say that perhaps you shouldn't have to work that hard, yet there is no real work involved; there is only delight, amusement, humor, and sometimes awe.

Her second act is ceaselessly enjoyable, one of the finer R&B albums to be released in 2008.

Here, the sad sounds aren't quite so soothing, but that human element of Portishead gives them a sense of comfort, just as it intensifies their sense of mystery, for it is the flaws--often quite intentional--that give this an unknowable soul and make Third utterly riveting and endlessly absorbing.

Even if Kensington Heights is the Constantines' least satisfying album, the band's sound is never less than mighty; it's just disappointing how easy it is to let so many songs here fade into the background

Jim is most reminiscent of the Southern deep soul of the late '60s, although recorded so well (and so dry) that it betrays its lineage. Add to that an assortment of unobtrusive guests (including Nikka Costa, Gonzales, Peaches, and Alex Acuña) and the result is a record that reveals soul and sincerity.

Robyn defines what she's all about. Even if it took a few years to put together the label and album (and a few more to get it released everywhere), this is the pop tour de force that Robyn has always had in her.

Hard Candy is as a rare thing: a lifeless Madonna album.

This is music that looks outward at the pan-continental landscape while staying firmly adherent to and respectful of its deeply American roots; this is the emerging--and hopeful--face of the new millennium, and an altogether shining accomplishment.

An album that's both revelatory and full of questions, an album that understands its place in the Roots' history and American history, and an album that continues to place the group as one of the country's most talented and relevant in any genre, no calculated crossover necessary.

While the American Smile is a worthy follow-up to Rainbow and Pink, it's the Japanese version of the album that makes it a masterpiece.

Bittersweet and poignant, The Evangelist is Robert Forster's most fully realized, seamless, and masterfully articulated solo record yet.