On first listen [it's] profoundly unimpressive.... What each successive listen reveals, however, is a deftly understated and maturing pop craftsmanship.

Humming By The Flowered Vine takes the rootsy sounds of classic country music (incorporating Hank Williams, Lucinda Williams and everyone in between) and plops them smack dab in the middle of Manhattan.

Sure, with so much to hear and such a range of styles, the album can take a couple of listens before it starts to bloom. That said, after these requisite spins, one can't help but admire how smoothly Feast of Wire glides from track to track, style to style.

So Jealous has a broad appeal, nicely connecting the dots between Avril Lavigne and Joan Jett, but shouldn't be slighted by the latter's fans for it's immediacy.

Comets on Fire have also learned to harness their dynamic range, an important step for a band that pummels the listener with a seemingly unending freakout.

In a way CVB's New Roman Times is on par career-wise with Rush's 2112 - well, minus the klezmer anyway.

Has more to do with the Shangri Las' "Leader of the Pack", '60s sock hop and the Jesus Mary Chain than it does with Television, downtown Manhattan and pre-treated denim.

The concept does start to wear thin towards the end of the CD, and the recontextualized product is inherently one sided: it's the Beatles' soundtrack that is made to dance around Jay-Z's unedited verses.

At times, Rice definitely over-emotes, leaving behind any sense of subtlety in his delivery. But at his best, on songs like "Volcano" and "The Blower's Daughter", he hits upon a perfect blend of warmth and expansiveness.

Deerhoof's diversity is less a series of self-conscious genre references than a genuine proclamation of unimaginable artistic freedom.

It is Stevens' creepier qualities that make him a cut above the average singer-songwriter.

This is at once a record to rock out to, a record to contemplate, and a record to immediately buy if you think it impossible for a band this well-hyped to defy their own press.

It's a bit of a disappointment considering the rich subject matter, though Trans Am prove themselves once again masters of their own oblique domain.

More a sketchbook than a fully-formed statement of purpose, Jay Farrar's second solo release is nonetheless an excellent addition to his oeuvre.

On Obrigado Saudade, Pierce picks up where he left off on his last few Bubblecore releases, melding post-rock, world music and analog electronics into rich, earthy shapes.

Maintains the urgency of their debut, developing ideas that were only in their infancy on their debut.

To be sure, there is an ironic smirk clinging to much of Who Will Cut Our Hair..., but there is also the subtle beatings of unpretentious sympathy and maverick potential.

This is music that is both lovely to hear and challenging to ascertain at the same time.

Harcourt would do himself well by spending a bit more time on his lyrics; a lot of the time it sounds as though he's just filling in the space between choruses.

TV on the Radio relies more on the influence of eighties prog-pop than the typical Brooklyn grit, which is definitely refreshing.

As the album wears on, however, it becomes clear that Einstürzende Neubauten has spent more time cultivating their bristling sonic elements than exploring compositional variety or subtlety.

What sets Franz Ferdinand apart is their unapologetic adherence to the pop formula.

Whatever their motives, this return to rock and roll is a welcome one.

Albini captures a recording full of heart, a sound quiet and full, rough and clear.

Phantom Planet, although obviously representing a group still searching for its sonic niche, nonetheless manages to entertain, perhaps proving there can be life after "California."

Unfortunately the band sometimes overdoes the sweetness and ends up being too precious.

The first pleasant surprise of 2004.

Fans of dream pop and chamber pop alike will find a lot to enjoy on this one.