This is their Holy Bible--in other words this is an unknown quantity alright; it's Weezer's raw, emotive bastard child; and a great, brilliant, titanic blot on an often pristinely laundered back catalogue. For that reason in particular this is a thing to be cherished.

Suckers make this stylistic smorgasbord indisputably their own.

While enjoyable and familiar, this set of songs reflects a band who knows what music they don't want to be making but haven't--at least, not yet--determined what it is they want to be defined by instead.

The National's latest is easily up there with the very best indie-rock records of the year.

Ultimately The Weight's on the Wheels works on the whole. Its finest moments are excellent examples of the wry electro-pop that TRF are certainly proficient at; at its worst, however, the album lacks any evidence of an evolution in sound or style, suffering from mediocrity rather than being distinctly poor.

For whatever reason, though, the voices in her own head aren't strong enough to out-sway input from others, leading to a few unimpressive moments in the LP.

Not only does Undercard not disappoint--there are more than a couple earworms here and there--but it's brilliant and fresh from two musicians who aren't exactly freshmen to the scene.

All Day is Girl Talk's cleanest album in that sense. Pitch disagreements are virtually non-existent, and save for one ill-advised Creep mash-up, it's as close to perfect as he can possibly get.

Lisbon is up to the band's usual high standards; if you've followed their career closely that's really all you need to know.

"Matured" is an overused word in music criticism, but that's what No Age have done. They've evolved in a completely logical direction in ways that are pleasantly surprising but never jarring.

They do rest a bit comfortably on what they do right, circumventing the idea of exploring new territory. This is, of course, a curse and a blessing. In presence or not, Azure Ray's stark simplicity will always remain intact.

At its best, it blows Chemical Chords out of the water but at its worst, it's uninspiring and dull.

It's no exaggeration that doing two concept records in a row could have been disastrous. But after four years and a whole lot of life, MCR proves with Danger Days that the days of their self-involved, namby-pampy crybaby act are a thing (mostly) of the past. And to think, all it took was the end of days

The Lady Killer is generic in the best possible sense of the word; put simply: this is music for the soul, and even Mr. Gallagher has one of those.

As a whole, the record is a brilliant display of Kanye's range and influences, an opus of dirty hip-hop laid over haunting classically-inspired melodies.

There is a clear aspiration for this album to be ubiquitous, and well, overbearing with tunes. Rather than follow the typical pop formula, Rihanna gives an album specifically catered to where she is now with her career, music, and life. And blaring seems to be the point.

It's not too hard to imagine the Saunders sisters staring aimlessly while some confused producers shuffle the cards until randomly finding their rhythmic groove. And that's the worst think about this record: constantly thinking of the word studio when you're trying to invest some emotion.

It's new, fresh, and energetic, all of which are not entirely surprising from an obviously skilled group, but it's in the execution that everything comes into clarity.

The Other Side of Zero shifts from side to side with some regularity, ranging from bubbly and invigorating to downbeat and expressive. There's a real sense of diversity here, and it's what sets the album apart.

Some people might Matt & Kim's music is without substance, totally incapable of being a sustainable addition to the sonic landscape. I submit that their saccharine hooks, covered in a coating of post-adolescent confusion, is just the opposite.

This album does its best to give certain fans exactly what they want in sexually-driven club grinders while offering up real, honest-to-goodness substance. It isn't always a perfect situation, and parts of the album border on forgettable, but when they get it right, everything's groovy.

Even when it seems a bit disjointed on close inspection, it's when you take a step back that this album really comes into focus.

This brand of thoughtful ambient music is certainly not for everyone, but those willing to take the plunge may just come away surprised. After all, being perhaps too original and ambitious is often better than being trite and derivative.

The Fool rewards at almost every step of the way with its experimental touches.

Halcyon Digest goes by like a breeze, and when it's finished there's nothing better to do than play it again.

Write About Love may not be a great leap forward for Belle and Sebastian, but it's such an enjoyable record it's difficult to hold it against them.

What It Means To Be Left-Handed is amply adorned with Pierce's distinctive improvisatory drum stylings, with each rim hit and snare taking on a melodic spirit of its own, whilst never intruding. His kit-work is a baffling contradiction of smooth and jagged, providing a solid backdrop whilst playfully interacting with dense acoustic guitar textures or washy post-rock atmospheres.

Love Remains has no established coherence, disrespects the meaning of creating a full length from scratch by (reworking?) rehashing material, and frankly, relies too much on Krell's scorching falsettos.