Interesting, but not mind-blowing.

This could be a glimpse of a post-Interpol Banks or a hint at a musical transition within the band. It’s worth a listen either way.

This collection of B-sides, recorded over the past few years, is way more put-together than Modest Mouse’s previous rarities comps, Building Nothing Out Of Something and Sad Sappy Sucker. But it lacks the carefree charm of Isaac Brock’s pre-success indie rock experiments.

When she strays into pop territory, her lyrics and vocals remind us of electroclash’s cheesiest moments. When she keeps it raw and downtempo, real talent shines through.

Scott Reitherman, the multi-instrumentalist behind TMTS, switched to a full band following 2007’s "Moonbeams," and it paid off. Creaturesque stays aloft thanks to its big sound and well-placed handclaps.

Infinite Light offers mellow, contemplative folk-pop that never gets overwrought or fussy. The arrangements are stripped-down and intelligent, the melodies moving, the lyrics gently optimistic.

They’ve crafted an album that stands on familiar rock ground but isn’t at all stock.

It’s been a while since Fiery Furnaces released an album with songs that stick in your head. I’m Going Away, the Brooklyn band’s eighth release, is full of them.

Sweet and Hoffs’s pedigree separates this covers comp from the chaff, which is why people like Lindsey Buckingham guest on their inspired version of Fleetwood Mac’s 'Second Hand News' and George Harrison’s kid, Dhani, on their take on 'Beware Of Darkness.'

As a feel-good summer dance mix, Sidetracked is fun and doesn’t rely on obvious monster hits to keep the momentum.

There’s plenty of the intelligent, expansive instrumentation that’s earned TMSR their band-geek badges, but despite a strong finish, Universe lacks a life-changing single.

The 12 songs verge on inert, and singing is beginning to sound like a painful act for him. His lyrics, however, are inspired.

The album teeters on adult contemporary but never lets go of Maxwell's characteristic playful glint. Anyone remotely interested in his sound should pick this up.

The result is a very quiet record (possibly reflecting her admittedly timid nature--stage fright was once a big problem for her), but one that rewards a close listen.

Production by El-P, Aesop Rock and F. Sean Martin gives this album that trademark Def Jux feel, but the rock-driven direction of a few tracks may be a deal-breaker for fans of Cage’s earlier sound.

The album’s creeping ambience and modest pace make it great background music at work, but its many sub-themes and intricacies also make it a rewarding sit-down listen if you can spare an hour and 40 minutes.

Now, two years after the barbershoppy crew’s breakup, the Justin Timberlake of J5 delivers his solo debut, with predictably solid results.

It’s middle-of-the-road, but only by Wilco standards. A worthwhile listen.

Farm actually bests "Beyond’s" triumphs.

Ginuwine sounds more than comfortable throughout, and succeeds in making fundamental R&B with a good deal of replayability.

Every song on this--her fifth--album sparkles with intelligence.

His tendency to cram a million ideas into every song gets toned down, too, but fans of that aesthetic shouldn’t worry; the songs are as intricate and delightfully off-kilter as ever.

The album has some great moments but a few too many fumbles to hold up as a complete package.

It’s all very lush and fabulous, but also restrained and calculated to the point of coldness. If that’s intentional, they’ve pulled it off, but not necessarily to the album’s benefit.

A highly polished 50s-girl-group sound prevails, bringing out production values that verge on cheesy but also string and vocal arrangements that are impressively, bombastically Bacharach.

Now the songwriting is more ambitious, cerebral and not always out to attack, and third vocalist Wade MacNeil is increasingly putting his stamp on the sound. It doesn’t always come together.

Reanimation never sounded so lifeless.

The large cast of vocalists are quite upfront in the mix, and the quality of the songs tends to depend on their talent, but for the most part it’s a strong collection of bangers, with few missteps.

The band’s put together one of their more accessible albums, full of immediate thrills instead of drawn-out weirdness.

The Ecstatic begins with the Middle Eastern/rock-music-influenced Supermagic and doesn't let up on the sound clashes until the very end. Production by Madlib, Oh No, J Dilla, and Mr. Flash (yes, the Ed Banger Records Mr. Flash) keeps The Ecstatic's instrumental canvas as multi-textured and eclectic as they come.

When they slip up, it’s due to stupid lyrics or mainstream tendencies (like the beginning of the first single, 'Burial'). But they do create winning synth moments on 'Song For No One' and 'In Search Of.'

It could have worked, but the dated production style bogs it down.

The much richer sound on these formats spins songs recorded as many as 40-plus years ago eerily into the moment. It’s as if you’re listening at the exact instant of recording, making the music as personal as a direct memory.

This back and forth continues throughout the album and makes for a satisfying mix of clarity and perplexity. In the indie rock game, Grizzly Bear’s expansive scope is unmatched.

His push toward “real” songwriting is aided significantly by Canadian expat and multi-instrumentalist Jason “Gonzales” Beck, who spins a Parisian pop spell on the track Luxury and grounds Tiga’s high-camp inclinations on Shoes.

If you’re able to tolerate the graphic descriptions of rape, incest, drug abuse, dismemberment and felching (Google it), the reward is an incredible amount of introspection, and top-shelf production by Dr. Dre throughout adds to the replayability factor.

For all its glossy, soul-searching schmaltz, the band’s full-length debut is a polished record full of consistently catchy hooks.

The tunes remain pleasantly unhurried, lush and laid-back but fail to stimulate. His small, fragile voice now seems slightly whiny and affected.

His brilliant, whispery, Gainsbourgh-like vocal delivery is replaced by base shouting, his hilarious wordplay reduced to grating, beat-poet-like observations.

A stellar offering.

For those who never quite got John Vanderslice, he’s finally made a love-on-first-listen recording. Yes, you have to pay attention to the lyrics, but the reward is clever, well-developed storytelling.

Everything sounds lovely, but the songs are too indistinct from one another, and there’s very little emotional range on display.

On this one, there are wonky backup vocals, trashy-sounding drums, disgustingly distorted guitar solos, vaguely off-key horns. You get the sense that Lewis, also a talented comic-book maker, does whatever the hell he wants, and it totally works.

He’s abandoned the tres, a three-stringed Cuban guitar used uniquely on earlier efforts, in favour of a few not-so-good stabs at reggae. But he keeps his songs zippy and focused, and infuses many with foot-tappin’ playfulness.

The story is hard to follow, but after a few listens the band’s rallying cries take shape.

Cam’ron has evolved on this no-frills release, and it is disarmingly effective.

Quicken The Heart, however, goes nowhere new and hardly bests its predecessor.

This is easily the most danceable record she’s produced. Surprisingly, the weakest tracks are those that sound most like the electro-rap we’ve come to expect from her; fortunately, they’re in the minority this time out.

Too often it feels as if they’re all going through the motions, opting to play it safe, while Oberst himself seems bored and uninterested.

Mood-wise, there’s less of the unhinged joy of their last outing, "Love Is Simple." However, those moments of ecstasy have more power in smaller doses, and making that choice has allowed them to expand their palette while retaining their identity.

The pros outweigh the cons on Fantasy Ride, but the overall experience might fall a little short for seasoned fans.

Aside from a couple of visceral rockers like the title track and Better Than You, Cause is dominated by mid-tempo blues jams.

His arrangement choices are flawless. While guitar stays front and centre, piano, strings, group vocals and slide guitar make fleeting, effective appearances.

Isis’s four previous full-lengths have clear story arcs, but Wavering Radiant’s themes are open to interpretation, giving it added appeal. Close to perfect.

They have the formula down, but 10 tracks of this gets a little tedious.

While it may not stand up to the rest of Hatebreed’s canon, it does a great job of promoting some smaller acts that the average fan may not be aware of, and is a must-have for those antsy for new material.

These 10 tunes feel dashed off.

While Tony Iommi churns out stock riffs, Devil You Know’s success largely depends on whether you can take Dio seriously--not as a vocalist (he’s one of the best in the metal game), but as a diminutive old man bellowing innocuous dungeons-and-dragons lyrics, and so unconvincingly that you have to wonder if he actually believes a single word. This record doesn’t make a strong case.

The disc sometimes lacks sonic oomph, and the mid-section is less unique, borrowing new wave staccato guitars and sing-yelping styles from fellow Victorians Hot Hot Heat. Things pick up again at the end with three slices of relaxed indie pop.

The result is pragmatic but also quite creative and surprisingly catchy.

Coaster’s not exemplary, but it’s definitely a quality late-career entry in NOFX’s increasingly uniform catalogue.

Don’t expect any major changes to their 50-million-records-sold formula. Neil Tennant and Chris Lowe keep things grandiose with paddy retro synths, discotheque drum machines and downtrodden lyrics.

Blissful and vibrant, Dark Days is a party album, but one with a soothing, trance-inducing quality. Best listened to loudly and in a communal setting.

Like 2005’s pleasantly surprising "Playing The Angel," Sounds Of The Universe, their 12th album, is a triumph, though more cunning in its method.

This album is back-to-basics rock and soul; you won’t find any further ploys to appease contemporary audiences, and therein lies its charm.

Deeper Than Rap triumphs over this authenticity deficit and is among the best rap albums so far this year.

The first three tracks build with effortless new-wave energy, making Fantasies an album you’d want to listen to while pre-drinking.

Some of the 80s references take a few listens until they stop sounding goofy, and MacLean’s deadpan vocals occasionally grate next to Whang’s light and floating tone, but once your ears adjust, there’s a lot to appreciate.

Each is gently strummed, sparsely drummed and deeply crooned by Brett. Rennie takes care of the lyrics (and a few sweet harmonies) and deftly avoids love’s clichés.

Unless you’re a desperate DCFC fan in need of satiation, The Open Door isn’t worth the purchase.

The Sadies have proved themselves master instrumentalists at country and twang, and a fluid backup band able to execute any genre. Doe, who co-fronted seminal L.A. punks X, on the other hand, has a voice you could charitably call serviceable. Whether this collaboration needed to happen is debatable.

A few rhythmically awkward moments detract from the album’s overall flow, particularly on 'High Life,' but chalk that up to two competing staccato production styles.

While the concept is inspired and resoundingly current, the jangly blues-bar rock seems an afterthought.

This time around they sound slightly more connected to genuine dance music, while at the same time stripping away some of the atmospherics to allow more of their subtle pop sensibilities to surface.

Tentacles’ more focused psych punk feels formulaic, underdeveloped and disappointing.

There are a couple of moments of idiosyncrasy here, particularly on the title track and 'On & On,' but Guilt’s formulaic approach makes it easy to pass on the whole album.

The Yeah Yeah Yeahs haven’t changed as much as they’d like us to believe. They still write great pop rock songs.

The overall level of creativity bodes well for Harvey’s next proper solo outing, but this one is a mixed bag.

PB and J also don’t lose their mass appeal here.

Isis is an actual MC with real hip-hop history and skills, who, in between throwaway odes to ass-shaking, manages to tell some stories and flesh out some characters. That, coupled with Grahm Zilla’s versatile approach to beat production, puts them far ahead of the pack.

She’s absurd, yes, but she also has an incredible melodic sense and can unpredictably weave trancey backdrops to brilliant effect.

In a voice so fragile a strong breeze might overpower it, he offers sober ruminations on loneliness, life, love, longing, and artfully infuses each song with just the right amount of banjo, light drumming, acoustic guitar and vocal harmonies (often courtesy of the stellar Julie Fader).

The band tries out big, fuzzy, folksy blues riffs on tracks like 'The Wanting Comes In Waves/Repaid and The Queen's Rebuke/The Crossing,' but the proggy result is unmemorable and middling.

Torbjorn Brundtland and Svein Berge move away from millennium trance tracks like '49 Percent' from 2005’s "The Understanding," and that’s a good move.

The overwhelming headiness, relentless heaviness, behemoth riffing, technical proficiency and epic scope of Crack (at least three listens are needed before it all sinks in) should be enough to prove that these guys are the Rush of extreme metal.

The record will prove inaccessible for those seeking a retread of the members’ more famous projects but works when approached on its own terms.

The remix supposedly reflects how the band always wanted the album to sound, but it’s hard to tell what O’Brien did. It’s definitely cleaner, louder and more polished, but not dramatically different.

I Blame You is mean, raw and instrumentally tight, with splashes of surf and punk. Froberg and Habibion’s twangy guitars effectively interweave in highlights 'Fake Kinkade' and 'Pine On.'

With the exception of the exuberant 'Pop Champagne,' which was a Ron Brownz single before Jones hopped on it, Reign is a washout.

The L.A./Paris musician has a voice reminiscent of Owen Pallett’s and tends toward cutesy (see aforementioned Gallop). But these cloying idiosyncrasies are stirring on darker songs like Canter Canter and the title track.

Songs like 'Death' and 'Nothing To Give' are strident due to big production and well-placed hooks. But commercially geared goth is so much more hideous than the real thing because it wants to be palatable and accepted.

Some will long for Oldham’s minimalist era, but Beware is still an engaging record from one of the indie world’s best songwriters.

There’s mountains of potential here, but the initial hype was premature. If he keeps it together long enough for a second album, Williams may deliver on the promise of greatness.

Not a mind-blowing work of art, but expect at least a few more singles to blow up over the next few months.

Rearrange Beds, the duo’s debut full-length, features the five EP tunes plus another five that aren’t as strong. While not bad in small doses, the disc has a cumulative grating effect if you listen from start to finish.

While Briedrick produces artful, not too noisy drones through vintage analog gear, Balabanian’s vocals have a distinctly soulful quality.

While not perfect, her fourth is full of upbeat (and pretty damn good) guitar-driven pop like 'I Do Not Hook Up' and the title track, as well as a few requisite (and equally decent) ballads that make use of her impressive range.