An album that is warm and inviting without being overpowering and rich and varied enough to warrant repeated listening.

Musically and melodically, this is the best work Green has ever done (even counting The Moldy Peaches -- which isn't to suggest for a second that Jacket is the superior record). Lyrically, though, it's the same old Adam Green bullshit.

Fortino's considerable talent for trance-inducing musical honesty could probably use a little bit of editing. It's better in the end for listeners to feel like they're being driven, not just along for the ride.

The self-titled release was dominated more by decaying, almost bleak instrumental meanderings than the half-cocked pop-fuzz that made the group's many singles such hot items. 2010's Nothing Fits, released on In the Red, is a near total about-face, consisting of 11 swift, fierce blasts.

At times, the country air's so strong you can smell the hay/freedom. Far more often, though, Dekker and company find the sweet spot.

No one will ever get sick of Love Songs--they're an essential product of the thing we call the human condition. But it's easy to get sick of these.

They may play noisy guitar rock, but they also wear military uniforms in concert and write songs about Czech history. Man of Aran illustrates both the successes and shortcomings of that dichotomy.

Formulas churn out reliable, consistent results, but "reliable and consistent" art doesn't always inspire a passionate response.

Valentina spends much of the time spinning in circles instead of plodding onward.

Self-Entitled [is] the most energetic NOFX record in a while, but one that still ends up a bit uneven.

It was all too easy to brush aside Turbo Fruits when the band was doing straightforward, blues-tinged punk. Echo Kid makes that less than possible.

While Driedeger and company still have a ways to go in crafting a distinct sound and generally tightening their writing (especially the lyrics), they're well on their way.

At its best, Kingdom Come is about possibility. At its worst, it pales in comparison to past albums.

Most of Asleep at Heaven’s Gate is forgettable, uninspired, middle-of-the-road indie pop.

In a genre where dullness is constantly being fought off, there's never a moment on Soft Money moment when monotony threatens to take over.

A thoroughly enjoyable and well-crafted album of mid-tempo soul.

Ultimately, though, this is a definite misfire in an otherwise impeccable career.

This album works adequately, maybe exclusively, within the folds of Bright Eyes' self-contained space, and that's really not such a bad thing.

Advaitic Songs is Om 2.0's second full-length album, and it is far and away the most entrancing document the band has released.

Much of With Love and Squalor is like your old coat rack: You know where the hooks are going to be even in your sleep.

Sleepy, sporadic and inconsistent.

The songs blur into one another, edited to form a metal-machine grind of music that, while certainly exhausting--there’s even a disclaimer on the album: “Do not attempt to listen to all at once” -- maintains a kind of lurid appeal in its dogged attempts to capture a three-year journey within the constraints of a double LP.

On We Are the Night, Tom Rowlands and Ed Simons pull out all their tricks, delivering an album of euphoric psychedelic electronica, quirky guest appearances, and danceable grooves.

It's disturbing like a Mike Patton record, with blink-and-you'll-miss-it lyrics that serve as confrontational one-liners.

Nobody sounds quite like them, though, and few metal bands balance spiritual and metallic consciousness so well.

Organ Music Not Vibraphone Like I'd Hoped is about as ambitious as 35 minutes of music can get, and Krug gets an awful lot out of one instrument here.

The members of Tha Alkaholiks may not have wrapped up their stellar career with the bang many had hoped for, but I'll still drink to this.