Fleshing out Monade only reinforces what great chemistry Stereolab possesses. And that’s a few steps in the wrong artistic direction, especially if Sadier’s interested in distinguishing herself apart from the Groop.

One of the most refreshing modern R&B records from a diva-ascendant in a long time.

A full three-fourths of the record feels more like the work of a band that hasn't yet staked out a sonic identity.

Instant 0 finds Stereolab upbeat and sounding more vibrant than it has in years.

By the halfway point, it becomes too easy to zone out and for the music to fade into the background.

Rehearsing My Choir is too self-consciously hip to be a twilight reflection on things past and is filled with personal asides only blood relatives can relate to.

The Outsider is a mix tape. The artful flow that defined Endtroducing and The Private Press has been eschewed in favor of individual tracks, and the album succeeds or fails along these lines.

Nightfreak is imbued with an appealing, frantic punk energy, but hamstrung by third-rate Zappa lyrics.

Ultimately Monsoon proves an easy, agreeable listen; soft rock for graying indie-rockers everywhere.

Fans of So Much for the City's warm, Beach Boys-esque charms may be disappointed with The Thrills' musical progression, but most should enjoy Bohemia's varied charms.

Coming from a group whose debut offered a glimmer of hope for the expansion of the genre's boundaries, such creative laziness is all the more disappointing.

Long before it's time to part, Till Death sags under a heavy sense of déjà vu that hinders even its interesting moments.

Porcelain's aggressively hopeful, generic alt-rock anthems just aren't very interesting.

JackInABox lacks the consistent flow of The Optimist LP and doesn’t match the sturdy songcraft of Ether Song.

The Hiss is certainly one of the most promising of the current wave of rock revivalists; it's easy to see why this disc is already a hit in the U.K.

Amputechture, with its obsessive exploration of religious fanaticism and the physical expression of devotional desire, is not an album wanting to be loved so much as feared and listened to with a sense of awe and taxed exasperation.

Human Conditions suggests that Ashcroft has forgotten how to rock, choosing to indulge what appears to be a messiah complex.

It's all very commendable, but one wishes McGraw had taken a few more chances with the material, most of which is as lightweight and ultimately disposable as much of modern country.

Too many of the tracks on Some Devil simply take longer than needed (five minutes on average) to reach their conclusion, most running out of gas somewhere around the three-and-a-half minute mark.

There isn't much variety on the disc, which many will find a bit thin after repeated spins, but there's no doubting the band's clean, confident sound.

One Plus One Is One may not sparkle with surprising brilliance, as Bewilderbeast did, but it is certainly the most thematically and musically grounded album Gough has yet created.

+44's first effort is an enjoyable diversion, but it's not apt to stop anyone's heart.

For better or worse, RJD2’s talent is beat-making. While it’s easy to applaud him for following his dreams, we can’t give him extra marks for his output.

One would like to think there's a subversive statement here about the blandness of much of commercial radio, but it's far more likely that the vocal turns by Dave Matthews and Bush's Gavin Rossdale are as free of intended irony as those songs' lyrics are free of fresh content.

Too much of... Out of the Vein struggles to scratch its way into your memory banks, hobbled by its own melodic shortcomings.

Even if you slipped the album into your player without the slightest preconceived notion of who Courtney Love is or was, Sweetheart wouldn't be able to help but strike you as a document of sheer desperation, of a frantic need for approval. Worse, it's the audible sound of a talent in serious decline.

The band's formula for its high-energy, rock-dance mélange is quite simple; take youthful exuberance (average age: 19), add an exceptionally-tight rhythm section, and let the superfluous, over-indulgent jams flow, as they most certainly do over the course of ten songs and just over 55 minutes on this most promising debut.

Too little stands out to make Grand Champ more than an uneven contender.