Proponents of Mars Volta’s Frances the Mute will claim that anyone who doesn’t like the album simply can’t handle the lyrical depth and amazingly multi-layered musical complexity; critics who pan the release will claim it’s overlong, indulgent, and -- did we mention indulgent? The truth, as usual, falls somewhere in between.

Back to Me is a solid successor to Failer, though at some point Edwards is going to have to toss aside the sour-relationship crutch if she truly wants to distinguish herself from the rest of the country-rock crowd.

If Youth and Young Manhood was Kings of Leon tentatively using well-tested implements, Aha Shake Heartbreak is the sound of a group boldly forging a unique identity from common tools that have been stripped of all pretense and decoration.

A dewy dream-pop affair that favors vaguely defined lyrical sketches of people, places and things over concrete foundations and specific arrangements.

Rather than leaning on his appealingly gruff Neil Diamond pipes to articulate personal stories of drunkenness and hardscrabble redemption, Bachmann takes a more imaginative approach here.

It's a deeper, more rewarding listen, rivaling End of Amnesia for Ward's strongest release to date.

Woman King is an ideal transition record for Beam, interweaving colorful new threads into a familiar pattern and hinting at powerful and majestic songcraft to come on his next full-length.

Hardly an essential addition to the Mogwai catalogue (diehards excluded, of course).

Space-rock aficionados will dig the zero-G atmosphere, but it meanders through excessive pockets better left unexplored.

Nashville validates the promise Rouse has exhibited since Dressed Up Like Nebraska, encompassing a gift for emotional detail and a fondness for simple, unadorned lyrics. It's an understated, impeccably played collection of heartfelt tunes about a time and place that can never be returned to.

Fast Cars is volatile, angry, and certainly unappreciative of the current administration (especially its war policy). Fortunately, Aesop Rock manages to criticize without losing the beat.

LCD Soundsystem doesn't quite overcome the high bar set by its bonus disc. That might sound rough, but fortunately, just compiling all of Murphy & Co's singles on one handy CD provides a valuable service for newcomers to his eclectically retro style.

It demands the right frame of mind, temperament and that ideal rainy-day traveling environment, in which nothing works out. When you're in the middle of such a moment, Hood's there to provide the soundtrack for your emotional nosedive.

A Healthy Distrust reinforces Sage Francis’ standing as one of the most verbally gifted rappers currently in the game, but it lacks the cohesive flow of Personal Journals and complains about a host of worldly ills without offering much in the way of a positive solution.

Eggs fails to engage with the unpredictable inventiveness of Swimming Hour, and lacks the skillful brevity of Weather Systems.

The warmest, most life-affirming album of his still-budding career.

I Am A Bird Now is a beautiful-sounding record, and though it doesn’t contain anything as remarkable and emotionally piercing as the debut’s “Cripple and the Starfish,” it nonetheless reveals a band and lead artist refining a musical universe populated by drag queens, cabaret dancehalls and a tolerant and open community.

Happiness in Magazines is the sound of a former sideman confidently flexing his muscles for anyone who's interested. More people should be.

Worlds Apart is the first TOD album that sounds like it was influenced by a marketing department.

But while it's appealing to hear Barlow sound so contented as he approaches middle age, Emoh can't help but lack in the emotional immediacy so typical of Barlow's earlier, non-eponymous work.

Over-produced and (regrettably) heavily dependent on synth-powered '80s grooves.

[Oberst] displays a mastery of material, a reigning in of indulgences that promises stronger work to come.

Other than a few impressive moments... Push the Button proves less than inspiring.

Knuckle Down holds together quite well, revealing an artist still developing a powerful and engaging self-analytical aesthetic.

Low goes overboard at points, and detrimentally so... [but] the dissonance and harmonies mostly gel.

On the whole, Before The Dawn Heals Us is a more unified, singular vision than Dead Cities.

The lyrics are urgent, but the delivery is complacent, and that makes for an odd (yet strangely rewarding) listening experience.

Another excellent offering.