They have a knack for making things just wrong.

Aside from Church Gone Wild’s best moments, there’s not much material here that can compare with the intelligence and distinctiveness of the duo’s best work.

Roberts sounds alienated, but not arrogant, like some of his labelmates often can. His vocal melodies lack warmth and pain, but I find No Earthly Man's blank stare profoundly appropriate.

The Fallen Leaf Pages settles comfortably into the band's canon, delivering no surprises, no gimmicks, no gags, no quirks and no affectations.

Blue Eyed in the Red Room doesn’t fit any hip hop preconceptions. Moving deftly from influenced to influential, Boom Bip defines himself by leaving limitations behind.

It’s fairly impressive that Stars could make a record that comes this close to replicating its predecessor while still offering discrete pleasures of its own.

Despite what appears to be a decided attempt to branch out musically, Prekop returns with a slight variation on the same theme that has seemed to follow him around since birth. Luckily, for fans of Prekop's work, progress and self-redefinition has hardly been the point.

He’s smart enough to be aware of his dorkiness, and by the end of Live From Rome he has almost turned it into an asset.

A dramatic, often fascinating work, it inspires repeated and careful listening, and stands alongside the best of Bachmann’s work.

His lo-fi production values, traditional forms, and writerly sense of detail create songs that seem to recall moments from some collective past life, one that’s just barely disappeared from view.

Fans might enjoy the history lesson, while non-fans are probably better off waiting for the next full-length.

Some of the most likable “weird hip-hop” around.

Back-to-back tracks recorded years apart seem inseparable, and some of the recordings here are the strongest the band – or anyone else – has ever put to tape.

A gorgeously euphonic skull-crusher.

Here the whole sum is less than its individual parts: individual tracks display real quality, but the album fails to cohere.

Don’t be put off by the glossy patina; there’s a lot to hear on this record, as repeated listening makes plain.

A nasty, dense and confrontational mess.

You get the impression that the artist is truly a giving soul, even if his gift is in the form of an emotionally wrenching, uncomfortably confessional record.

“Everybody’s Song” features the melodic discipline, barely contained anguish and cryptic lyrical finger-wagging that marked the last few Posies records. “Just Stand Back” (“I’m gonna turn on you so fast”) is a hateful little bon-bon that could stand tall on a Sugar record. And yet, The Great Destroyer remains too rickety and pristine to be anyone’s baby but Low’s.

Have you ever fallen asleep during the X-Files’ opening credits, then awoken to a Volkswagen commercial? Have you ever wanted to?

Wilderness has a few disposable songs: the second half in particular drags on a little bit as different tracks become pretty much indistinguishable. However, the downtime and background amidst moments of appeal channels the spirit of ’70s AM radio pretty accurately.

Superwolf contains some of [Oldham's] most startling work yet.

JG manages to both make fun and have fun, their music more goofy than cynical.

It's hard to believe at first listen, but they've got nuance.

School of the Flower easily ranks as Ben Chasny's best work thus far.

The fact that the middle of the album is easier to swallow than the beginning is not an indication of any real improvement, but a sign that you become habituated, or at least desensitized, to its utter lack of creativity or soul.

Like many of their retro-rock peers, however, the band struggles to find a personal identity that transcends imitation and homage; the result is an album that, while excellent at moments, often falls victim to its own stylistic incertitude.

A solid, if not predictable emo-tronic excursion.