While there’s nothing as instantly catchy as Howl Howl Gaff Gaff’s hits, the sweeping grandeur of Our Ill Wills is infectious, with every song benefiting from just the right amount of orchestral glow.

The album marks the first time Black Lips’ unconscious bar anthems have sounded completely, well, developed.

La Radiolina emerges as a delicious bouillabaisse of gypsy punk, reggae and countless indigenous sounds, expertly stirred by a band of brawling pirates who plunder each port for musical spices and then add them to the cauldron.

The band’s self-titled fourth record takes only seconds to signal the triumphant homecoming of the guitar.

Level Live Wires, like "Waking Life," is not simply art for art’s sake, but rather an invitation to drift off into bliss within your own head, guided and fueled by the creative juices of another.

Panic Prevention may not be easy to like, but it’s also hard to ignore.

Architecture's indulgent heart is the band’s strongest suit--and tracks like the vibrant 'Heart It Races' wouldn’t be half as good if Bird and company weren't willing to risk sounding a bit too sickly sweet sometimes.

This record might be a challenge for fans of the band’s hit-filled history and at times drifts dangerously close to the dreaded adult contemporary of your local Gap store, but give Challengers some growing time and it proves to be the New Pornos’ prettiest record yet.

We still have a band trying to blow your mind with pure musicianship and experimentation, while having the balls to show restraint and even unabashed posie-sniffing beauty.

The production work throughout provides a head-bobbing, arm-waving backdrop to Kweli’s lyrical genius, exactly as it should.

The Teen’s male/female vocal harmonies and occasional big rockin’ choruses are designed to make you love them; at first this will make you hate them, then hate to love them, and finally either get over it and start bobbin’ your head, or crush this album with a hammer.

This digitized voodoo funk makes the Meters look like the goddamned glee club, and y’all know the Neville Brothers ain’t never gotten Juvenile and Chali 2na to collaborate on the same record.

Natural, their first album of all new material since 2002’s Oooh!, is more of their brand of sparse, postmodern folk that will mostly appeal to their already devout niche of fans.

Ultimately, the only thing stopping Planet of Ice from being the band’s best work is that they seem to so desperately want it to be, lending a strange (and too serious) heavy-handedness that nearly buries these slow-to-mid-tempo burners.

Sometimes you really just don’t feel like dancing--and that’s something the poppy Danish duo Junior Senior doesn’t understand.

It’s existential, but under piles of heavy thoughts, Broder reaches for little bits of luminescence.

Wildly alive, majestic and by turns brooding and raucous--often within the same song--The Stage Names burns with all the loneliness and adventure of a never-ending road trip.

The U.K. sensation weaves her tales of wizards, horses and magic in a warm bearskin coat of Kate Bush sensibilities, piano playing that’ll bring you to tears and instruments that only real musicians understand, like the harpsichord.

The 1990s just may replace Franz as the dancefloor fillers of choice in Glasgow.

The overall atmosphere is grey, too blah and insular to be colorful.

The Con is a startlingly dark, yet characteristically vibrant offering, featuring a band that’s learned to harness the energy-highs, while tempering pretty (even pastoral) pop-folk with a new, deeply-affecting brand of melancholy.

when given the space, the music is alternately compelling and peaceful; unfortunately, the words get in the way.

There are just too many frickin' snoozers. [#24, p.89]

Zeitgeist is mostly a grinding, straightforward affair that demonstrates none of the innovation and vision of the band’s previous efforts.

Even when they’re forging new ground (which is often) or mixing it up with any of the aforementioned conversation points, they still manage to sound exactly like themselves.

Crowded House guys can confidently say their time on Earth is currently well-spent.

The Else finds the band still firmly grounded in their tongue-and-cheek eclecticism, combining humorous tracks about shadow governments invading public libraries, a “cap’m” that doesn’t actually drive a boat, and numerous off-center topics into a mish-mash of musical absurdity.

Goodbye follows in the same muted patterns as 2003's "A Strangely Isolated Place," but layers on the vocals (in thin, gauzy, washes of course) over his treble-heavy, misty backdrops of beats and synths.