With Contraband, Velvet Revolver has pulled off something tidy, fashioning music that manages both hedonism and maturity.

The tempos drag, the lyrics are nothing special, the electronics nothing much to care about. Instead of sounding like the teenage spawn of My Bloody Valentine and Mouse on Mars, now they sound like Radiohead's very earnest cousin.

Louden Up Now is easily the best record to come out of the [new wave dance punk revival] movement; its ten tracks are filled with fervor, hooks, passion and power.

Even if the sound they pursue here is just a detour, its seamless and creative fusion of rock and electronic idioms deserves respect.

His aggressive but nimble flow is all over each of these songs.

An album that has all of the elements necessary to be a pop classic.

She has winnowed her dueling personas -- brilliant techno-inflected DJ and haughtily self-aware vocalist -- into a fantastically complete, wildly inventive package that offers the lunatic best of both badass sides.

Ultimately, it's hard to avoid that Auf Der Maur is living in the past, re-creating 1996 and acting like she's still 24.

Although the duo didn't record nearly enough material to justify checking out quite so soon, Sung Tongs is a striking record, a breath of fresh air within experimentalist indie rock.

If label executives of 1982 were brought to the present day, they'd hear at least six singles here.

Compiling the best tracks from each of their previous releases to make one solid EP would've been a better introduction to the band than The Printz is.

A hallmark for the band, a culmination of their previous work, and -- upon its release -- their best album to date.

Under My Skin is a bit awkward, sometimes sounding tentative and unsure, sometimes clicking and surging on Avril's attitude and ambition.

Get ready for the hardcore fan backlash but Greater Wrong Of The Right at least makes up for The Process and with stunning structure from Key it beats most of the current industrial music competition.

It's a satisfying, carefully crafted representation of their career to date.

Confidence bursts throughout, and for a band that has been around seven years and has never released a studio full-length album until now, achieving nearly epic-like status is quite impressive.

[It is] over-produced to within an inch of its artistic life, and lacks the quality songs and exquisite productions that the group had made a hallmark.

It's a shame and embarrassment, and hopefully it will be a temporary slump like Circus.

This record isn't about progressing or regressing, and one hesitates to refer to such a strong, enjoyable listen as a holding pattern.

Perfectly, almost aggressively pleasant.

The intensity and energy get a little too repetitive toward the end of the album, but the returns aren't as diminishing as they have been on the Catheters' previous work.

Listeners who came of age during the alt-rock revolution and were disappointed, even outraged, at Liz Phair's Matrix makeover in 2003 should find In Exile Deo is exactly what they were looking for.

It's brighter, denser, catchier than either of its immediate predecessors, and boasts her most assured singing yet.

An invigorating and glorious mess of undistilled Rock fury.

The band's organ and raspy vocals give Red Bedroom a jolt of early punk, which, combined with an adept sense of rock ‘n' roll, has signs that the Fever has been spending equal time listening to proto-punk and garage rock bands of the ‘60s.

Faded Seaside Glamour trades in the band's dreary English roots for radiating waves and rays of '60s California pop. It's a slick transition, an honest presentation soaked in Delays' crisp musicianship and the foursome's lush harmonies.

With only a few exceptions though, Since We Last Spoke makes the moody Dead Ringer sound like a piece of flag-waving exuberance; instead of the occasional uptempo track, it's brooding and mellow throughout the record -- very nearly a rap singer/songwriter record.

The music is livelier and almost exuberant at times, and certainly more varied that on the last album.