Last Light is an altogether different album from what we've heard before, as Matt Pond has rarely put himself in such close contact with his idols. Nevertheless, it's a leap forward for an artist who rarely, if ever, heads in the wrong direction.

The Markers strip away the most abrasive parts of their previous work, add just the right amount of melodies and structure, and somehow maintain the free-flowing, experimental heart of their music. It's not much of a stretch to say that the results are something of a revelation.

It gets better with each listen, and stands so far outside the realm of anything her better-known peers are doing today that it's almost scary.

It's interesting that while so many of these songs are peppered with faux-mystical approaches to spirituality, the album is also confessional and looks hard at itself, even if at times it seems cloying, self-indulgent, and preachy.

Invitation Songs is a welcome, and welcoming, debut.

Shocking Pinks is an intriguing introduction for listeners who want to catch up with [Harte's] ever-growing body of work.

These songs sound like they were written as she was fed chocolate-dipped strawberries while sprawled out on a bed cloaked with rose petals.

An uneven sophomore album.

Drastic Fantastic a rare beast: a pop album with a songwriter's heart, and one that works on both levels.

It will seduce anybody already won over by his 2005 debut, "Back to Bedlam," since it's a tighter, more assured record than that. But chances are, they were seduced by Blunt already.

Past a few missteps, the album is a winning embrace of hip-hop with commentaries on beefs, nostalgic pining for better days, and a positive outlook for the future of the genre.

Not only did Moore record Trees Outside the Academy with some of his closest friends, but the album's good-natured sprawl is so appealing that it makes its listeners feel like friends, too

Tthe record is focused more on the future, on creating an impression, than on immediate satisfaction, giving it an appeal that only strengthens as time goes on, and making Spirit If... another impressive, affective release in the ever-growing Broken Social Scene catalog.

Asleep at Heaven's Gate isn't a bad record, it's an unnecessary one and there's really no excuse for that.

H.I.M. isn't a band known for profound lyrics, but, at the same time, most fans of the band don't want to philosophize, they want to hear the group rock out, and this release shows them doing precisely that, even harder than before.

the Donnas once rocked as if they were tanked to the gills but they now sound like they're playing with ferocious hangovers they just can't shake--and it's hard to have a good party if the threat of the morning after hangs over the whole affair.

These songs all feel like a score, and that's not necessarily a good thing. They all seem to be of a piece, but musically there isn't enough imagination to distinguish them, to set the tension of dynamic in motion.

This album was well worth the wait and should win over some new fans and please the old ones too. Best of show.

There's no lull here, just fast-paced fun.

Jourgensen's covers are usually all-party time, but this album holds no hope for and finds no joy in America and expresses it brilliantly.

Ripe isn't all that different than "Awake Is the New Sleep," but it's no worse: it's equally entertaining and endearing, a modest pleasure that's a pleasure all the same.

Everything is suited for Babyface, often to the point where the songs don't sound tremendously different from what he has written during the last several years.

This is the kind of album you can live with and hear new things in with each listen, and proves that the album is an art form that still has plenty of life in it.

In the end, Curtis is entertaining but only impressive in that 50 can run in place and still be on top.

It makes for an utterly compelling, even obsessive listen.

Graduation is neither as bold nor as scattered as "The College Dropout," and it's neither as extroverted nor as sonically rich as "Late Registration." Kanye still makes up for his shortcomings as an MC and lyricist by remaining charmingly clumsy, frequently dealing nonsense through suspect rhyme schemes.

Proof of Youth is a pretty spectacular continuation of some of the most exciting, innovative sounds around.

The result is a muddled album that gets even farther away from Hot Hot Heat's former glory even as it tries to recapture it.