Not as good as their first.

Underneath the Pine is anchored by Bundick's reverbed, strangely ethereal voice-it's just as malleable and expressive as the rest of the electronics in his impressive repertoire.

Though the sound may be different, The Cave Singers stay within themselves to make their best record to date.

While We're New Here is spooky, it's more chill-out mix than futuristic minimal-rave, and comes as a less interesting culture-clash than, say, The Dirtbombs doing covers of Detroit techno songs.

Chad Elliot bends his elastic voice between teetering wails and delicate melodies, and sharp guitar work keeps the album charging, even with some sneaky jazz progressions thrown in.

The paradoxical, prolific Darnielle reminds us there's dirt under that green grass, with wry lyrics like, Anyone here mentions Hotel California/Dies before the first line clears his lips.

Gimme Some surfaces from more of a basic power trio sound without straying too far from indie-pop roots.

Gorgeous as much as it is terrifyingly heartbreaking, it's Country Gentlemen's ominous open-ended silence that unnerves most of all.

Invoking the most sunny-day innocence of '60s pop with effortless amounts of homeland lyrics and layers, the overwhelming sweetness has the potential to wear thin for the duration of a whole album.

While not overwhelming or breathtaking, the slower pace and pure countrified nature of this latest release better suits the band's booze-soaked, Southern, small-town storytelling and captivates suitably for the running time.

While Lines doesn't escape the limits of its genre--a little more substantial than an EP, consistent but not expansive--it plays its role well, and has enough moments to hold up beyond the first couple listens.

Lyrically, the songs revolve around topics of drinking, women, forgiveness...stuff that could pretty much write itself at this point. It's nothing new, but it's nothing bad, either.

Regularly swelling with gorgeous string arrangements and Urata's slurring, operatic bellows, 100 Lovers feels like a reverse-engineered soundtrack to a beautiful foreign film in dire need of epic landscapes and intimate moments of romance.

PJ Harvey always explodes possibility when she shreds convention and tradition. Thankfully, she does just that on this Anglo-centric head-trip.

He knows his job is to play us music, but he's got to do it for him, too. 

At best, the heart found in earlier recordings is missing from Ann's soft voice here. At worst-as in the album closer where she counts down from 101 to 1 in a flat tone-things get downright tedious.

This album requires less listening and more feeling for one to get the message, something that most of us could all use a little more of.

While the band introduces new elements with this release, its shoegaze dream-pop still underlies each track, with many familiar experimental tangents scattered throughout.

The latest album from the resurrected version of seminal glam-punk band New York Dolls is a weird little gem full of vintage organ grooves, doo-wop harmonies and bluesy undertones.

Welsh rock trio The Joy Formidable gives us a roar that makes things of the '90s seem modern again.

A lot of bands pepper blues and soul influences into their work, but Joe Lewis is genuinely capturing the spirit of those styles and making them relevant to modern audiences. No easy feat, and it's damn fun hearing him do it

Once again British indie-folksters Noah and the Whale have outdone themselves and created a beautiful, inspiring album that differs from their previous two releases while at the same time maintaining classic, familiar characteristics.

With no standout tracks, Reptilians just becomes 40 minutes of innocuous, digital background music that's been done before.

It's the perfect record to listen to while you sit and wait for the next comet to pass, as Mascis sounds long shy of extinction.

Easily their best, most cohesive album yet, No Color shines brightly-continuing to push the band to new levels of musicianship and songwriting.

While tales of the life aquatic are at the heart of this record, there is no denying that they are kept afloat by the youthful earnesty and composure of Moore's vocals.

With not a sound wasted, James Blake is everything we wanted James Blake to make.

Blessed certainly isn't a curse, but it doesn't exactly leave you feeling a higher power, either.