Brighter Than Creation's Dark is a tour de force that easily earns its praise and rings out as classically as any classic rock album.

Few bands have managed to blend so many divergent sounds and styles together to make such an interesting, great-sounding, and cohesive [key word] record as Evangelicals have with The Evening Descends.

The pair accomplished what they set out to do, but by no means are they causing any whiplash with the results.

Distortion is really a triumph of the evening-out.

The music is what makes Lupe's pretensions palatable.

8 Diagrams is intricate, inoffensive, interesting.

Rehab has every right to coast on the momentum of Ghost's hot streak--exploit it, if you will--for an overload of same.

And desperate single aside, it all works pretty damn well.

They have blended the sensitivity of classical and the sensibility of rock into something far greater than post-rock.

While Chrome Dreams II was clearly modeled after his more "classic" sounding work, it finds Young sounding like little more than a knockoff of his former self.

It would almost be pretty or epic if Tankian hadn't done this sort of thing ten times over already: nonsensical title, half-time verses balladeered in a faux-operatic style before rushing into the "unpredictable" chorus, which is uncomfortably wordier than ever I might add.

For the most part Dave Gahan has a lot of catching up to do after his lackluster solo debut, and Hourglass, while an improvement, will likely suffer from the continued fallout of "Paper Monsters."

In Defense of the Genre does defeat the emo stigma and the double CD stigma easily, and does improve slightly on the pretty-good "…Is a Real Boy." But these are minor inventions; any "genius" is pretty much limited to the bites and nuggets reported here.

Chase This Light's would-be killer singles make for enjoyable listening, but taken as a whole it feels uninspired for a band known for its ambition.

Kenna has the indie roots to bridge the gap between pop and everything left of center. This effort has already created some stir between the two. My only concern is that the album's lack of balance may make for a one hitter quitter.

Excluding the established Radiohead franchise from consideration of In Rainbows, it is still one of the most compelling recent releases, and should be considered for 2007's Album of the Year in any context.

One either engages with the gears of this get-up, or not. If you do, the delights abound from start to finish, and it really makes no difference whether each song intends to evoke a different French city, as they do on The Flying Club Cup.

The natural maturation of Ben Bridwell's vocals and songwriting, bolstered by an increase in creative control, has yeilded what is easily one of 2007's best albums in Cease to Begin.

Kortedala is a touch shy of a great album because Lekman's ornate tendencies towards full-on kitsch get the best of the still A-level songwriting.

Overall, Hera Ma Nono left a good impression with several notable points, however, there will be no drooling this time around.

Good Arrows tempers its communal, folky feel with tasteful and restrained use of samples and loops, resulting in an inviting environment that feels soothing and organic.

Whether blazing a tight new trail or feeling its way in the darkness, each tune on the album heads somewhere, collectively making as much of a stylistic progression as the recording of "Our Endless Numbered Days" made in fidelity and depth.

All things considered, Washington Square Serenade is a bit nonchalant by Earle's standards.

The tracks are both individually strong and do work as a whole, though not in the way the group necessarily intended.

As it is now, decidedly un-personal, In Our Nature falls flat.

The album's vibrancy and idiosyncratic traits certainly warrant another listen, especially for those willing to let a fanciful mind wander.

Perhaps more so than any other band out there today, the pair channel the spirit of the wandering troubadour in all of his dusty, down and out glory.

Listening to The Weakerthans makes me feel young and happy and hopeful.

It rather gorgeously hums low and disturbing, hiding in the grass like some kind of jungle cat.

The Cave Singers' methods are clearer and less complicated than say, Joanna Newsom or Sufjan Stevens.

What it lacks in standouts it makes up for in atmosphere and starkness.

Once Upon A Time is simply derivative, a rehash of the band itself.

This is one for the ages, an album that you will covet, listen to, and live by.

Perfect it may not be, but as perfect as possible it might, and Let's Stay Friends certainly has more than enough fervor to make it one of the more refreshing punk purist releases since Fugazi laid down a baker's dozen of songs in the last century.

Instead of infectious innovation, on Ripe the audience is served a mostly useless platter of fluff pieces, wittiness minus the wit, and hooks that flail aimlessly through the air around them.

Nothing on Curtis is great, but everything is listenable or better.

The Collective's aspirations come off as bland and blurry, as if aspiration alone was the sole goal for this jam, spread out over three quarters of an hour.

Weighed and measured, Graduation is easily the best rap album this year.

Happiness Ltd. is a big mess.

The band seems powerful at their best moments, but may yet be too tentative to really grab hold of their own work.

One coup this unexpectedly friendly record makes me miss is when my favorite records used to have a string of highlights as moments rather than memorable refrains.

Playtime is Over, Wiley's third album, is full of tunes long on hookcraft considering their thrifty origins.

Help Wanted Nights may leave longtime fans of Kasher's tension-and-release cold at first, but after repeated listens it probably hangs together better than any other Good Life release.

Autumn Of The Seraphs is more of the same I have come to expect from Pinback--lovely harmonies and catchy hooks, all with an underlying emotional depth.

I Created Disco is not only the title of Harris' full-length debut, it's also the title of a track on the album that threatens to depose Justice from their perch on high.

Liars is an ingenuous reflection of a band in total control of their wild creativity.

It's good to hear our man Aes no longer forgoing pleasure in the pursuit of ambition.

The result is like if "Sam's Town" worked, without a sign of embarrassing wordplay, conceptual grandeur, or annoying moustaches. The words are blessedly innocuous, leaving the grandiosity to the sound alone.

They can't be accused of not making spirited music, but Northern State are still looking for the right words to express their sensible worldview.

Places Like This is right up there with the year's best madcap adventures into dance and rock.

Kala is only received as a political record if you listen up properly. The music itself no longer asserts itself like a militia; it's too calm and more scattered.

Challengers stacks up against the pillar of "Twin Cinema" just fine; it is the more restrained of the two, equally as satisfying, and more stylistically varied.

Every one of the eleven songs attached to Blacklight is a stunner in purely musical terms.

The Dr. of Mathematics has one-upped it with Andorra, keeping all of the earlier album's core sonic qualities while adding layers of heartfelt atmospherics to craft what is not only one of the most mesmerizing and unique albums of the year, but also one of the best.

Imperial Teen have again made one of the best records of the year.

Mentor Tormentor is an inviting listen; it is, among other things, an advanced course in baroque pop and a warm reminder of the thriving music scene in and around their renowned namesake town.

The Historical Conquests of Josh Ritter finds namesake and frontman Ritter boldly claiming musical territory with a reinvented sound, turning from the meticulous arrangements and somber ruminations of his previous album to a more daring, moxie-charged approach that yields some of the freshest, most captivating songs of his career.

There are some very danceable tracks on the outfit's second release, but nowhere is there a worldwide hit to be found.

As much as I enjoy Stage Names, it will never be as highly regarded as the comparitavely masterpiece Black Sheep Boy, as the songs lack the depth and magnitude needed to influence a much more musically inclined indie fan base.

The clincher is A Place to Bury Strangers' impressive final quarter: almost structured like a minituarist's 'Zen Arcade,' the nasty pyrotechnics show set off first as a statement of intent, followed by the true songs, and then takeoff is achieved in the denouement with true anthems.

It falls flat, offering little hope for the listener; after a few disappointing rounds of thinking that the next track simply HAS to be solid, the album exits as if it were never really there. Without a doubt, War Stories is the weakest and most disappointing UNKLE release to date.

Is Is will especially appeal to fans who found "Show Your Bones" a little soft. On the other hand, this release should appeal to any and all Yeah Yeah Yeahs aficionados.

Although the new parts of their "new" album aren't the best, the band certainly deserves some praise and attention for the marathon of 2006. The Broken String will be noticed by at least a few people.

Each of the eleven tracks within Grand Animals can be broken down and taken apart as a stand-alone piece--individually they hint at manner of pop rock sounds--but none carries enough weight to eclipse the album.

From start to finish the album is well balanced and well fueled, and while it isn't quite the total package it is certainly a step in the right direction.

On Our Love to Admire that world-weariness goes from strikingly haunting to fairly monotonous.

Spoon has again produced a collage of songs that may be proverbial, but are not paint-by-numbers.

If you want to get in on the ground floor of something good, then check out Cross and see where Justice leads; with cuts like these, it will certainly not take long until they're all over the place, in commercials, on the radio, and on TV.

A well-rounded and passable product, both old fans and newcomers to They Might Be Giants will like this release.

An album that doesn't immediately astound, but gradually unfurls in dense atmospheric strands.

I can't remember the last time a popular punk album sounded this simple, lean and ready to conquer anything in its path.

There are no apologies necessary for this wonderful debut album.

The icy joylessness with which Bulmer humors her band's recordings doesn't ruin everything, shockingly enough.

Easy Tiger is his most consistent effort since Gold and his without doubt his most assured ever.

Boys Night Out and producer Lou Giordano (Sunny Day Real Estate, Paul Westerberg, Taking Back Sunday) still have taken a fragile overarching concept and pulled it off, delivering one of the strongest rock releases of the year.

At 48 minutes, Icky Thump has enough genre-hopping, rip-roaring tunes to get even the 70s rock purist nodding his head again.

For the better part of an hour, the trio's experimental pop melodies create their own breeze that, in a very Zen-like manner, becomes one with the surroundings of the listener.

So when Era Vulgaris comes as a bit of a disappointment, well, that's all relative, since it still rocks mightily.

Easy to hate and easy to love.

There's something captivating about the project, and you will find yourself returning to the album over and over again.

In short, Maths + English is an ideal sellout.

Boxer is another accomplishment for The National; more understated than Alligator, yet just as alluring, and right on target.

If the Flaming Lips mated with Marilyn Manson and ate Underworld for breakfast, the end result might sound something like Battles' debut album, Mirrored.

[An] enjoyable, if slightly inconsistent, album.

Well worth the wait.

Release The Stars swoons and sweeps until the final curtain and Rufus Wainwright has delivered music perfectly suited for the elaborate set of the world around us.

It may seem disappointing to those looking for further progress in one of the best American bands of recent times, but in the end it all comes down to the songs, and most of the ones here are little gems, perfect for a summer morning.

For every hit, there exists a miss.

At once soothing and energetic, ferocious and effeminate, beautiful and ballsy, No Shouts, No Calls is a passionate, confident effort.

Everybody might be less than lustrous in their own catalog but tops most group's bests.

Although Mice Parade isn't necessarily the group's paramount album, it certainly makes their stock soar high.

The creative engine has stalled on Baby 81.

Lambert promises on the album's stellar title track, and if that isn't a warning to all of Nashville, from a woman who has compiled one of the year's finest releases, it should be.

Woke On A Whaleheart is a pleasure, and aside from the intro to the song "Footprints," every moment on this record is immensely listenable.

Favourite Worst Nightmare finds the band getting louder, more aggressive, and, as a consequence, losing some of their youthful charm.

The album is loud, visceral, and messily human, and should be regarded as an essential chapter in Cave's considerable discography.

A delirious fever-dream of an album that continues to impress with each consecutive listen.

I'm prepared to defend this as hip hop's frontrunner for best album of 2007 thus far.