It's hard to sound as sweet as Tegan & Sara and not come across as precious. But somehow this duo does it, and the result is fantastic.

"Funeral" is a modest debut, but it hints at a band that sounds like its ready to make a statement over the next several years.

Where the Faint falls short, though, is its lack of daring; even with the welcome addition of strings (apropos of its cinematic live show) and varying styles, "Wet From Birth" sounds contained and merely likeable.

Masterful blends of R&B, jazz and gospel accented by soulful harmonies.

Instead of coming off as dilettantish, Cale instead sounds intrigued with how these new tools can enhance his music.

The Black Keys play the kind of raw, sensual blues-rock that makes you want to hide your girlfriend and warn your mom.

Light on filler, "The DEFinition" proves that, after 21 years in the industry, LL is as relevant as many of his contemporaries.

Raw and emotional.

The Trashcans toil on their songs, and at times, it shows -- but all it takes is the 4:10 melodic blizzard of "All the Dark Horses" to sum up what all that sweat was about: birthing pure bliss.

Though not every track works, Scott still remains at the top of her game.

Those who are up for the challenge will find much to admire.

Buck may not be as charismatic or as lyrically compelling as his cohorts, but he still makes a strong impression.

If you dug the sweaty rowdiness of Mooney's last records, you'll find that the Matrix scrub-job has removed most of their traces of grit, grime and rock.

The act's most melodic and accessible album of its career.

The album isn't a certified classic like earlier GBV favorites "Alien Lanes" and "Under the Bushes, Under the Stars," but it does have a healthy dollop of Pollard's trademark effortless pop perfection.

Kelly has an uncanny ability to mix retro sounds with tasty dollops of contemporary seasoning.

Songs like "Do You Remember" and "Wasting My Time" are tolerable but don't require repeated listening.

Clinic continues to wrap its post-punk jitter around a surprisingly tender core.

There's nothing really spectacular about any track, although in a strange way the entire album does have the ability to grow on you.

The entire package hangs together gloriously: The renditions bear the sensuous heat of Dulli's self-penned work.

These are songs riddled with illiteracy, cancer, unemployment, crime and consequence, fashioned by the brutal pen of one of the most promising American songwriters of the last decade.

Always a risk-taker, he remains fearless in his choice of material, evident here on sweeping, observant fare like "Drugs or Jesus" and the ultimately redemptive "Kill Myself."

Finds her pushing her already considerable talents to new heights.

The Memphis five-piece sometimes lacks a definitive sound... Yet the band excels at its straightforward, meat-and-potatoes sound.

With few female MCs truly representing these days, Northern State's "All City" is a breath of fresh air.

Shows a sure production sense to match the ever-perceptive singer/songwriter's observations on life and love.

Beneath the dreamy melodies is more than a hint of darkness, disguised by the languid arrangements and dreamy playing.

Fresh and imaginative, "Anything" is one intoxicating recording.