Musically a pretty blend of folksy guitar and lightly new-wave synth, these tunes seethe in a nice-girl way, simmering slightly, but never quite boiling over.

Many artists try their hand at varying stylistically within the same album, but often fail miserably. With Movement in Still Life, BT has turned out one of those rare albums that actually pulls it off.

With Bedlam Ballroom, the Squirrel Nut Zippers sound rejuvenated. The musty '20s and '30s influences that made their previous endeavors sound occasionally laughable now crackle with ornery energy.

Sexsmith's most underrated asset is his most obvious: that voice. The way he slides into a line, pauses, and then delivers for maximum effect… No histrionics, just truth.

What South demonstrates most effectively is that Nova, who had been awkwardly marketed as an edgy alt-rock chick, is now a performer perfectly poised for adulthood, and the mature listening audience that comes with it.

This is a record that delights in the contrast of the group's no-frills rock past and its radio-friendly, mid-tempo future.

Though not as stellar as such past Max-era classics as Chaos A.D. or Roots, Nation is another worthy set of brutally dense, hardcore-tinged metal.

And even though Young laces plenty of signature guitar riffs throughout, Are You Passionate? is for those who appreciate his songwriting as much as if not more than the histrionic fireworks he creates with Crazy Horse.

Walking a thin line in a stylistic minefield, Orbit has successfully reached his goal. Classical purists may be appalled by the concept, but even they may have to admit that he's done a better job than anybody could have expected.

His gruff voice may have earned him comparisons to Tom Waits and Captain Beefheart in the past, but let's face it: Everlast is treading awfully close to Neil Diamond territory here. Salvation, as always, comes in the grooves. Eat at Whitey's is instrumentally opulent, adding cushioned layers of percussion and vintage keyboards to the familiar blues-hop template that launched "What It's Like."

It's a richly textured album, often filled with a melancholy that suits Moorer's dark, rich voice just perfectly.

Its tight-as-a-drum musicianship and the sense of threadbare vulnerability resonating in singer-guitarist Kevin Palmer's songs elevate the band above the ever-expanding pack of like-minded acts.

An eclectic and enjoyable mixture of pop, light rock, light country, and tinny, horn-happy soul, Velvet is almost compulsively cheery.

The songs don't vary a great deal dynamically. Harris' lyrics set Red Dirt Girl apart.

A short, razor-sharp set...

This one finds him getting almost downright sappy. But it suits him well.

Iowa boldly follows up, notching maximum body blows in its unyielding production, while maintaining an odd grandeur in its professed pain and anguish, its struggle for individualism.

Few will quarrel with Springsteen's reliance on his pre-Born in the U.S.A. output, or with the use of only one track, "Youngstown," from The Ghost of Tom Joad. But the absence of anything from the grievously underrated Tunnel of Love is a shame, as is the absence of "Further on Up the Road," a wistful and gorgeous new track played often during the Garden dates.

Brion girds Apple's elastic melodies with off-kilter beats, giving her music a more rhythmic feel than it has previously had, while the singer herself runs the spectrum of grim emotions.

One of the band's most colorful listens.

At times, Aaliyah's somewhat frail, underpowered vocals seem insufficient to meet the emotional heights she seeks to attain (particularly on the epic ballad "I Refuse"), but simultaneously that's a large part of her appeal.

A sweet-sounding album that's both melodious and multilayered.

Shangri-La Dee Da sounds like two completely different bands -- DeLeo's hard rock and Weiland's soft balladry. Happily (for Atlantic Records), the album has something for both slumming Papa Roach fans and growing Jessica Simpson fans. STP has enough talent to hold both together.

On the group's second release, the Geometrid, it experiments with various electronic sounds and alienated vocals that seem to float over the compositions, creating a sense of space, but not emotional disassociation.

Less Casio-centric and nicely encompassing more of the Nottingham native's pop side, Volume 2 is decked out with piano, horns, and a plethora of guitars.

The album provides hard evidence that the dynamite punch of 1998's Devil Without a Cause album was no fluke.

The scattershot recording technique seems erratic for a quartet of chums who've spent upwards of fifteen years gelling together, and most of the rock tracks like "Hella Good" and "Platinum Blonde Life" suffer from a mix of overproduction and lack of urgency; missing is the California garage band vibe that was the trademark of their earlier, more energetic material.

The rockers here, however, aren't his best work, sounding like the Goo Goo Dolls with steel guitars.