There’s a certain history-capturing aspiration here, as if the album's purpose wasn’t just for charity, to move records, or for Dessner to get together with his pals to compile an album but to provide a musical time capsule that in 20 years could allow younger generations to get into indie rock from the early 21st century. If that was how compilation albums were solely judged, Dark Was the Night would be the gold standard.

There are fewer moments of reckless genre experiments on Touchdown than there were on past Brakes efforts, and when there are, they feel purposeful, like the band had some alt-country (or quick punk song) quota to fill.

A valuable musical historical document of blissed-out reverie, yet more archival than transcendent, and far from the most welcoming introduction to the more accessible and engaging individual output of these electronic-music pioneers.

Mountaintops is a decent pop record, and will surely add a few fan favorites to the live set, but for a duo that did so much with just two instruments, they too often do less with more here.

More often than not, they miss, retreating back instead of charging forward.

It keeps Raekwon relevant, not to mention is better than most of the hip hop out there. But it's always worrying when an artist, even one as celebrated as Raekwon, gets complacent.

Plat du Jour is never dull, and if you went your whole life not knowing what it was about you could enjoy it on a basic scale. But as a project, the record is somewhat of a disappointment.

Shows off the group’s ability to transform into a neo-classic Brit-pop band, lush layers and dark undertones intact.

[Remiddi's] fastidious mentality manages to keep this song suite afloat, even if the sails aren't always full of creative wind.

It's a summer album released just too late, but should do a stellar job of carrying some heat over into the colder months. Most importantly, it's yet another case in the argument to trust Thee Oh Sees with whatever sounds capture their interest.

A valiant attempt to combine varying disciplines of Eastern music with neo-psychedelia, Aufheben is a pleasant listen.

If anyone questioned whether or not Jayceon Taylor had what it took to stand on his own post-G-Unit, Game answers all of his critics with a resounding yes on Doctor's Advocate.

Dismania makes for an altogether appropriate title for an album this interested in gathering the common ingredients of despair, anger and disaffection.

With 1968, Pajo... may have finally found a style he feels comfortable putting his name on.

More carnival claustrophobia than world tour.

What Uhlhorn has done on Fin Eaves is reconcile those influences into something unique to him; this is homage or pastiche, rather than imitation. Rather than playing different influences to different effect, Fin Eaves is a whole work, the first of the band's career.

There's too many synths, too many hooks, and just too much happening for us to enjoy it. The charm is gone, and we're left with a mess too muddy to understand.

Volume Two feels better than it could be, but it's still missing that something that would make it great.

While the rawk portion of Meek Warrior... is a bit of a letdown, Akron/Family hasn't lost its knack for making pretty with the acoustics.

Infectious, progressive, immediate dance music.

Although it's similar in style to the band's first three, numerically named releases, The Spell transcends more-of-the-sameness with the strategic addition of some elements culled from Amore and a further honing of the band's unmistakable sound.

It's simply a case of the repetition and lack of attention to detail exposing that, as pretty as Beach Fossils is, it could be better.

Unknown Mortal Orchestra has produced the rare indie pop record that seizes you on the first listen but also rewards repeated playing.

Highway Companion contains the most clear-eyed and hopeful songs that Petty has written in memory.

The lyrics are especially vapid here in the Stadium Arcadium.

Once you get past the initial, pleasing familiarity, though, In the Clear becomes a decidedly middling listening experience.

Truly, the heavy strings and pasteurization O'Brien has effected on the last few Springsteen albums--"The Rising," "Devil's & Dust," and now Magic, the Boss's reported return to form with the amorphous E-Street Band--has robbed Springsteen of his still-youthful energy and blue-collar credentials, something that has always been key to the believability of his sometimes overly corny manner.

The best parts are worthy contributions to their catalog, and worth the price of admission here. But as a whole, Weather Diaries isn’t the brilliant Ride return fans might hope for. Though there’s enough here to suggest it could be a start, the preamble to the next great Ride record.

On Invitation Dominant Legs have all of the parts of a "sound," there's just a little more assembly required.

There's a theatricality that's akin to the Decemberists, but the sweet disco-bobs of "I Understand What You Want But I Just Don't Agree" and "Play a Little Bit for Love" suggest a more outwardly grandness, a notion supported by the Baz Luhrmann-aping album cover.

You'd be forgiven to not have the hooks of these songs stuck in your head, or worse, confusing them for some other band.... Ignoring this, you have another quality catalog entry from one of modern indie rock's somewhat more surprising career bands.

Although the venue doesn’t spark an unqualified masterpiece for the grand dame of alt.country, a musky reverence seems to seep into the record, and the best moments here are among the best she’s committed to tape.

It's unfortunate that Tan Bajo is so over produced by trying to be so under produced, but this is a document of a band experimenting with the hurdle of translating their famous live shows into a studio setting and over-calculating their sound in the process.

The first half of this album serves up to be a dynamite, nearly EP-of-the-year standard, if it was an EP. But, the whole album seems less focused and ideally not so much of an album but more a collection of tracks.

Part of what makes it so distinctive is also what ultimately frustrates. The songs bleed into one another until the reverb-drenched vocals and phantasmic spirals of sound become heavy-handed, almost overwhelming.

Attack Decay Sustain Release sets a dance-friendly party mood and sustains it over the course of forty minutes, but it does not explore new territory.

Everything’s a little less condensed here than previous entries into the Newman catalogue, and the compositions even get to hang loose at times. That does lead to some delayed gratification, but it’s still exciting to see Newman let his hair down a bit--in an understated manner, of course.

They've got the hooks, they've got the personality, and (at their best) they've got the songs. Their low fidelity is a choice for the album, not a way to plug into a movement. And while Past Time might not realize their sound as well as it could, when its working this is a sound that has no expiration date.

The Bears for Lunch surprises from quick song to quick song (even though we know this trick well now) and maintains an overall cohesion and distinct mood.

The record comes off as hokey.

The Tarnished Gold is often nebulous and obtuse, trading in atmospherics more than the countrified terra firma of the band's past.

For those who maintain that vocals are the most superficial element of pop music however, Scars on Broadway will be a surprise treat.

An almost-perfect blend of '60s-style Britpop, '90s-style Britpop, and the post-punk of the new millennium, Inside In/Inside Out is the rare debut that features not only the kind of exuberance/naivete that only bunch of nineteen-year-olds could produce, but also the thoughtful consistency characteristic of seasoned professionals.

What does all this mean to the casual music fan? Invest in a reissue of Jeff Beck's Truth.

By description, Earthology may seem like an exercise in music dabbling. But at the heart of the Whitefield Brothers' sound is deadly solid funk.

When Dekkar slows things down, it feels like a choice and not a limitation. He and his band never missed with their first three albums, but they've made some necessary discoveries on this one.

One of 2005’s most pleasurable albums.

Repentance can be taken as prime party music, but if you dig deeper, it's much more rewarding.

Most of these songs are only pleasant for thirty seconds or so.

It can be a bleak listen at times, but for every scuffed-up shadow and turn to negative space, there’s a song like “No Tree No Branch” or the frenetic “Coins in My Caged Fist” to pull you out.

Carey has made a debut record that is both solid in its own right and hints at the promise of great things to come.

Cansei de Ser Sexy works not because of its ability to break new musical ground but because of its ability to borrow from other influences and use them in new ways to avoid sounding totally contrived.

Provincial is an immensely enjoyable album, to be sure, but the suspicion lingers that it could've been pushed into "career highlight" territory with just an extra little push.

Sometimes there’s a comfort to be found in familiarity, and Car Alarm plays like an object lesson on why sticking to your guns isn’t always such a bad idea after all.

[The songs] demand reconstruction that can only come from multiple listens. Unfortunately, the initial impact of the record is so muted that only an artist as challenging and road-tested as Beck warrants such effort.

The purpose of Clues wasn’t to outshine Penner or Reed’s past successes, but to make great new music. And on Clues, they do just that.

Clutching Stems is the band's finest record since The Albemarle Sound, and the kind of pop record that may break your heart, may even tear you apart, but it's also generous and complex enough to put you back together in the end.

Like the return of Portishead and My Bloody Valentine, Leila’s reemergence is another welcome surprise in a year that’s been full of them.

By coloring within the lines of dream pop Quever has recorded a pleasant release but not necessarily one that goes beyond the normality of his band's moniker.

Bluefinger is catchy in spots but ultimately forgettable.

C'est Com..Com..Complique is superb, a monument that could only have been sculpted by the group's original hands.

While Seasons on Earth turns out not to be the sort of stoner's delight diehard psych-folkers might be looking for, neither is it looking in any direction other than straight ahead, evocations of another era notwithstanding.

Where past Decemberists albums rewarded delving deeply into the milieu The Decemberists had created, Hazards of Love fails to provide much worth that probing.

Kweli shows again that he deserves the respect he receives, but Eardrum is simply not cohesive enough.

More important than any commentary about the listening habits of internet browsers I could possibly make is the fact that Dancer Equired stands as the perfect gateway for new Times New Viking listeners, and definitely deserves to be enjoyed and not brushed aside.

It's a distinct type of pop that could become truly memorable when he actually sits down to compose a full album.

With West, Wooden Shjips is just breaking in its new soles--and hitting its stride.

Tapes goes through the motions of dance music without ever delivering anything remotely danceable.

Flume manages to be somewhat of a timeless release in terms of modern electronic music, one that could have dropped at any point over the past 12 years or so and still made an impact of some sort.

Over and over, we get the sense that Cadence makes records for that gaggle of kids on the album cover, for the look on their faces. If any of the rest of us likes it, all the better. It works: We’d like to know more about Mr. Weapon, and his buds.

Wilderness Heart is tight but never overly controlled, and it varies in all the ways you could possibly want it to. It's a Black Mountain record through and through, that's for sure.

If Sea Drum/ House of Sun was the debut album from some little-known psych act, I’d be hailing it as one of the year’s best records.... But from the Boredoms, Seadrum/House of Sun is nothing special.

The main problem here is the theme -- the weight would have been a gift had there been some.

The Long Blondes sophomore album, Couples, is a disappointing follow-up to their sublime 2006 debut, "Someone to Drive You Home," but not as disappointing as it initially appears.

Sky Blue Sky is Wilco's first step toward aging well, but it transcends transition and is an album that sounds right in its place and time.

On Off to Business, he accomplishes another step toward canonization, making a late-period album that removes any semblance of what made him great in the first place and is a largely uninspired trip down memory lane.

While maintaining a slick vibe embodying the sultry lowlights of an unsuspecting loft party, Foals' Tapes are nothing particularly groundbreaking--but sure as hell an intoxicating listen.

When looked at from afar, 8 Diagrams is far more of a success than it is a failure, and years from now, when it is fully removed from the drama and hype, it just may sound even better.

Ultimately, Beach House is a mood piece, finding a specific tone and lingering there for its entirety.

Most of the material is as impressive in sound as it is atmosphere.

Under a Billion Suns is a great record, and Mudhoney is one of the best bands in rock 'n' roll, period.

"Everything Is Under Control" is worth a download, and Saul Williams's spoken-word performance on "Mr. Nichols" is worth noting, but how much of this record has been done before and how much of it will be done again? What Coldcut mix can you say the same about?

She may not excel on her solo album the way she has with Broken Social Scene or Metric, but it's still a rainy-day listen.

The band's accomplishment on Fear Is on Our Side is that no matter what direction the song goes, the journey is always worth it, the ending is a satisfying resolution.

Exposion challenges us to rethink the limitations of a song, and thusly rewards us with an album unlike any other this year.

Crystal Castles leaves its mark as an electro record that challenges, succeeding and failing all at once, and perhaps most important, never forgetting the primary goal of dance music.

Finding Forever, then, is Common's snapshot of hip-hop's awkward middle age--an album that is neither here nor there.

Ponytail fans will surely enjoy this relatively formed incarnation of the band's energy.

It seems impossible that the same band that started out so ramshackle could deliver an album as splendid and tighly wound as this.

Ultimately, We All Belong hints at the band's innocuousness. Nothing here offends, but there's nothing anywhere near compelling, either.

Free the Bees shows a group of skilled musicians who are comfortable in their style and songwriting, and it plays like it was unearthed in a warehouse basement, where it was hidden for the last forty years.

We're Animals may not be as mind-boggling as Numbers' 2004 release, In My Mind All the Time, but it merges elements of the precursors to the new wave/post-punk movements with a psychedelic ambiance.

Vidal’s newfound penchant for quiet introspection, providing a fantastic centerpiece to this EP, which contains more riveting ideas and modes of expression than most full-length albums.

Keep Your Eyes Ahead could easily be seen as the result of making the best out of a bad situation and succeeding in spades.

Down to the minute details, epic pop should center on creating a tiny, vibrant world that begins and ends within the space of the song, and Eggs’ best songs truly achieve this aim.

We have an airy, understated collage that acts more as a stopgap teaser to keep the spotlight on the young lad from London, before something more cohesive and fully-realized can be recorded.

Narrow Stairs finds Gibbard more than willing to play to type, offering the same staid character sketches he’s used since his first EP and songs that reiterate his point, that, like, love can be rough on you.

[The] most unexpectedly superb album so far this year.