There certainly isn't a lack of beautifully crafted, well produced music on this release, but if you're looking for a full plate of pop-inspired power ballads, stick to the last two discs.

Nothing here really rivals For "Emma" but this is a lovely and worthy EP.

The strange, serene pulse of Drone Trailer is a modest but powerful monument to the blissed out disregard for anything that is external to the maker’s heart and mind.

Those of us who aren’t already familiar with these tracks and are getting limited mileage out of Chasny’s recent exercises in finely honed border-psych will find that these patient, meditative, sky-minded nocturnes are just what the witch-doctor ordered.

While it may not be the greatest thing to ever come out of the Po-Mo singer-songwriter scene, Lily Perdida offers plenty to admire.

I am left with the impression that Corona's vision far exceeded his brief, producing a collection of serious abstract mood pieces that conjure up dark visions of Paris. Whether this is a release long-standing Murcof fans will cherish and return to however, is rather another question.

Unsurprisingly Heartbreak is a grower. At first it does sound minimalist and sparse but the album is layered with delicacy and marked with a maturity.

It is ridiculous. It is overblown, it's pompous, it's aggressive and it's absurdly ambitious. But, here's the rub: it's actually pretty damn good. It rocks, often pretty hard.

All things considered, as long as you don't go in expecting an album to change the world or to tax the grey matter, you'll find much to enjoy in Parallax Error.

Little Joy makes for a fine, self-contained little album.

Truly, Wild Beasts are those rarest of animals; true, untamed originals.

With ambition and expectation clearly larger than its execution, (K)no(W)here relies too heavily on its “concept” to drive itself, music being its afterthought and, ultimately, its title only communicates its direction.

This is about as musically adventurous as Lou ever got and those who think he could only toss off simplistic three-chord tunes are advised to listen closely. Berlin turned out to be a place well worth revisiting.

Just a Souvenir reveals itself to be a solid record, up there with the best of Squarepusher's work--as any good performer knows, you always leave the audience wanting more.

Skeletal Lamping is the brain dump of a troubled psyche, and you shouldn’t feel too bad if you ultimately don’t get it. I don’t think you’re supposed to.

Saint Dymphna is truly Gang Gang Dance and no-one else and for that they should be applauded; creating and defining your own sound is a challenge these days that many bands prefer to shirk.

The album’s generative “concept” is as strange and incredible as its music.

The music is rich with personality, and strives to establish uniqueness and incomparability.

Frightened Rabbit keep their slight edge with stripped down versions of songs from the aforementioned album, while the necessity of this release remains questionable.

On the new one, the drums still thunder and the space rock vibe is intact, but something is missing--and I’m not sure that something is Ben Curtis.

Despite the fact that Offend Maggie is, in some ways, a “nothing new” addition to Deerhoof’s canon, it’s also one of their best.

This Is It And I Am It And You Are It And So Is That And He Is It And She Is It And It Is It And That Is That, down to its mouthful of a title, is a fearless album, brought to fruition by a desire to push boundaries and explore sound.

In a way, we’re witnessing the rest of the evolution that began on "Son," as Molina experimented with the ways the human voice could be manipulated electronically, as an instrument.

Whatever shortcomings The Chemistry Of Common Life present, and there are very few, Fucked Up cancels them out with some imagination and a refusal to so easily fit into the Mallternative crowd.

It takes the music of Hauschka perhaps into more populist directions, but the experiment and joy still survive.

Those looking for a sombre accompaniment for the wintry evenings ahead could do a hell of a lot worse than pick up this superb record.

Women present a fresh lo-fi landmark that sounds like it was made in your garage before getting packed-up for a Sunday picnic in the park--well fused, lads.

Somehow, the 21 minutes spent with Vivian Girls are innocent and punctuated by brief moments of euphoria that make this debut more than worthwhile.