West is still a better assembler of talent than he is an MC.

What sets him apart from other, more gifted MCs is the refreshing degree of naked self-examination and social commentary he brings to the table.

Hail lacks the overriding musical, thematic or experimental coherence of the band's post-Pablo Honey work. But it is a strong collection of discrete tracks, like an unreleased B-sides collection finally seeing the light of day.

Mezmerize is on par with 2001’s Toxicity as SOAD’s best offering to date.

The overall feel is of an academic exercise in hip-hop cultural anthropology.

Twin Cinema has the winning distinction of being the most rocking set from the Pornographers to date -- and also the strangest.

Ultimately, those enamored with Walker's infrequent but peculiarly expressive post-'70s work (from Climate of Hunter on) will find much to enjoy here.

May well come to be regarded as Mogwai's graduation from unproven Young Team to mature, veteran rock outfit.

If 2000's The Friends of Rachel Worth was a tentative warm-up and 2002's Bright Yellow, Bright Orange a encouraging but inconsistent workout, Oceans Apart is the sound of two artists hitting a self-assured and motivated stride.

If you love guitar histrionics, Live in Chicago is a white-hot keeper.

It's brilliant.

It's a distillation of the singer's subtly different moods and modes, a cohesive and comprehensive work that stands as the most representative look yet at his musical persona.

I Am Not Afraid of You and I Will Beat Your Ass is a delirious jumble, the rare album that holds together because of the sheer audacity of its diversity, rather than being torn asunder by it.

Crimes is guilty of nothing save exhibiting the sound of a band that clearly isn't finished evolving.

Blinking Lights is an astonishing mélange of life and sound cycles, as much about the ghosts of the past as it is an optimistic hedge toward a pensioner’s age bracket Everett clearly endeavors to appreciate.

What keeps Nastasia from succumbing to grotesque melodrama is the razor-like incisiveness she brings to her lyrics.

A fascinating, brokenhearted mess of a record.

Finn’s examination of restless youth and wasted nights might not be as incisive nor as relevant as he clearly wants them to be, but there’s little question The Hold Steady has never sounded tighter.

The narrative plot of each song retains the best features of Newsom's previous work, and is gloriously wordy. Here might be the album's one weakness, since it's simply hard to understand a line like "Scrap of sassafras, eh Sisyphus?" when it's set to rhythm, to say nothing of back-and-forth dialogue.

A downbeat, surprisingly ruminative affair, less concerned with dance-floor breakouts than the inevitable post-party comedown.

The grim mood and countrified sound of Singing Bones doesn't differ dramatically from the past few Handsome Family albums.

Fever to Tell... shows that this seeming one-trick pony is capable of more varied and interesting material than its members have previously exhibited.

Kasher's jagged, jarring song cycle suggests an unholy fusion of the Cure's Robert Smith and Sebadoh's Lou Barlow.

What the band lacks in originality (not to mention coherence and subtlety), it more than makes up for with committed chops and indefatigable energy.

Bjork’s great achievement with Medulla is in taking a self-imposed limitation and managing to craft a full-bodied, multilayered work from such a basic toolset.

Donuts is fascinating, disorienting and -- despite its best efforts to avoid such sympathies -- a bittersweet document of a too-young talent who ran out of time.

A warm, gently beautiful album that rewards the patient listener.

Lost and Safe is an expression of two artists who are neither lost nor playing it safe.