Kensington Heights is a mixed bag of aesthetically correct placeholders. [May 2008, p[.98]

He refines his act. [May 2008, p.106]

Robyn achieves the sort of pure pop perfection that her more mainstream records never did. [May 2008, p.108]

Combining new wave, ska, dub, grime, Baltimore club, and hip-hop in an ear-warping wash of 21st-century psychedelia, Santogold takes listeners on a trip to a hidden black America, where White acts as tour guide through the alleyways of her mind and undoubtedly excellent iPod.

The Roots' hardscrabble classicism and maverick whimsy cohere seemlessly, making Rising the group's most potently evocative work yet. [May 2008, p.98]

More hooks (and cowbell) make Smile the band's most accessible album, but Boris haven't softened. [May 2008, p.94]

With his unassuming voice--like a more agreeable Lou Reed--and spare folk-rock tunes, he's got a gift for importing cosmic subjects like mortality ('Demon Days') and transcendence ('If It Rains') into vivid everyday vignettes, minus any cheesy melodrama.

[The tracks are] thoughtful enough to help make this one of the year's best rap albums. [June 2008, p.104]

Despite its title, The Formula has its charms. [May 2008, p.96]

Nicer than Pulp, less sappy than Coldplay, Elbow excel at meticulous orchestral pop that doesn't take itself too seriously.

The result is less an uncommonly danceable indie-rap disc than it is an uncommonly thoughtful groove album. [May 2008, p.100]

Bragg gets the balance of message and music just about right. [May 2008, p.94]

Divorced from their HBO series, the songs have room to stretch a little, only occasionally sacrificing context. [May 2008, p.98]

Add some beatboxing courtesy of Tom Waits (!), and you have an occasionally forced, yet boldly magnetic change of pace. [May 2008, p.94]

H.N.I.C. Pt. 2 is a real downer, but it's also completely gripping. [Apr 2008, p.102]

The Night Marchers follow Rocket From The Crypt's tried-and-true strategy, intertwining punk, hard rock, and rockabilly, with lively if unsurprising results. [May 2008, p.104]

Though the 16-track set achieves no sonic heights, Assbring's stirring lyrics and faint yet convincing delivery convey heartbreak gracefully. [May 2008, p.98]

M83 needs to step out of the '80s, and back into the future. [Apr 2008, p.100]

Odds are Konk's been-there, done-that sentiments will inspire a Kula Shaker-sized blip. [May 2008, p.100]

Raise the Dead works best when power takes a backseat to pop. [May 2008, p.106]

The only offensive thing about this English electro-rock outfit's debut is how blatantly they rip off Justice ripping off Daft Punk.

My Bloody Underground emphasizes the band's trippy side, often at the expense of Newcombe's undervalued tunecraft. [May 2008, p.96]

Gossip lack the kind of anthems that demand a live document. [May 2008, p.100]

Feral intensity abounds. [Apr 2008, p.98]

A stunning collection of 36 instrumental tracks that is one of the most varied and ambitious releases of Reznor's career. [May 2008, p.104]

The Breeders can still crank out straightforward rock songs, but iy's the creepier stuff that gets under your skin and stays there. [Apr 2008, p.104]

They never let math get in the way of a good time. [Apr 2008, p.96]

There are pleasures to be found on Walk It Off, and in the context of Tapes 'n Tapes growth as songwriters, the record is a modest breakthrough. [Apr 2008, p.102]

The result is some of the loosest, most facinating music of their career. [Apr 2008, p.92]

Lacking a balance between pretty and ugly, their experimental alchemy is scabrously tiring, with cacophonous fragments that never connect. [Apr 2008, p.100]

A primer on British folk-revival icon Shirley Collins is the disc's most sparkling moment. [May 2008, p.103]

His sophomore outing sports a looser feel tha his '60s obsessed debut "Tower of Love," adding slightly funkier grooves and hints of electronica to the mix--though the layered, cascading vocals still srecall Brian Wilson at his nuttiest. [May 2008, p.106]

With songs this hooky, it's impossible not to enjoy Cut Copy's lush new-wave revival. [June 2008, p.106]

For most of Neptune, the Duke Spirit graft sweet coatings onto a dark, swirling center.

More often than not, X's hooks, tunes and Minogue's bubblegum-perfect hum achieve candy-coated ecstasy. [Mar 2008, p.106]

Spirited and frenetic, Hold On adds up to more than just the sum of the band's five-star libraries. [Apr 2008, p.100]

It plays like a retrospective of his signature sounds. [Apr 2008, p.100]

Mostly the Keys just staple stuff to their good ol' R&B raunch and let 'er rip. [Apr 2008, p.92]

Accelerate will be rightfully championed as the defibrillator that shocked a once-great band back to its senses.

How scary/ridiculous the lyrics are is a matter of personal taste (or lack thereof), but it'd help if the production were more Scandinavian and less like, well, the Rocket from the Crypt rip-off band that singer/guitarist J.D. Cronise was in before he devoted his life to "Paranoid."

On their third album, this San Francisco–based, Mark Kozelek–led bunch stumble over saccharine set-opener "Lost Verses" (which channels icky Young wannabes America with less success than Midlake) en route to a beautifully depressing array of funereal folk.

Unfortunately, despite now working with David Bowie producer Tony Visconti, who infuses their angular, system-smashing screeds with timpani ("Good and Ready"), brass ("Shadow of the Dead"), and harmonica ("Go West"), Anti-Flag still don't possess the innate pop sensibility that's allowed Against Me! to make a mainstream move.

Their second B-sides compilation is a clear reflection of that indeliable good cheer. {May 2008, p.94]

They refresh all their tricks, with stripped-down, energetic guitar plus little electronics. [Apr 2008, p.92]

Pretty.Odd lives up to its title because it dares to be optimistically beautiful at a time when sadness and ugliness might have won them easier credibility. [Apr 2008, p.92]

But too often, the Raconteurs' love of twisty, monolithic rock gives way to bombast that teeters between homage and parody.

The Montreal group has never sounded so desperate or epic as on their fifth album's four earth-scorching, quarter-hour compositions.

Get Awkward's forced rhymes and attitude sound almost calculated. [Apr 2008, p.92]

These New Puritans prove the model perfected by New Order ain't dying anytime soon. {Apr 2008, p.106]

The duo's relentless cool never quite tips over into White Stripes-style heat, giving Midnight Boom the unapproachable, icy allure of a runway model. [Mar 2008, p.104]

On Destroyer's eight album, Bejar lives up to his stratospheric self-regard. [Apr 2008, p.94]

A sultry brew of Gypsy, Mexican, and pop ingredients that's adorably silly and unexpectedly moving. [Mar 2008, p.100]

When they ease back on the overdriven electronic intensity, Street Horrsing works tribal, tracelike wonders. [Apr 2008, p.98]

Reality Check vacillates between Serge Gainsbourg's slutty cool and Jonathan's Richman's childlike poignance. [Apr 2008, p.106]

The duo's tinny new-wave pop is spot-on. [May 2008, p.104]

The Odd Couple is basically a more refined "St. Elsewhere," without the rap aberrations or goofy covers that made the debut such a wild, bumpy ride. [Apr 2008, p.91]

Both seem to be having a blast acting out their fantasies,, which makes Volume One consistent fun. [Apr 2008, p.102]

Kath's hooky charms ease the ferocity of singer Alice Glass' panting wails and loopy, sarcastic screams. [Apr 2008, p.94]

The erstwhile Moldy Peaches wears out his welcome at 20 tracks, each one unrelated to the last and haphazardly abandoned around the one-and-a-half minute mark. [Apr 2008, p.98]

The seven minute thriller 'Joe's Waltz' demonstrates their flair for balancing craftmanship and raw emotion. [Apr 2008, p.96]

Laced with bariny raps, cooing backing vocals, and a keen attention to meloncholy melodic detail, Why? almost one-ups those heady precursors [Fountains of Wayne, Rentals]. [Apr 2008, p.106]

That astounding guitar mastery is still evident, but Dreaming seems more interested in evoking deeper moods than showing off. [Mar 2008, p.104]

The beats are subtle, but solid, better suited to a small, late-night party than a major disturbance. [Mar 2008, p.104]

His best in more than 30 years, he teams up with members of Ladybug Transistor, Teenage Fanclub, and others for songs heavy on rememberance but energized with chin-up horns and strings that'll sound fresh to fans of the Decemberists and Arcade Fire. [Apr 2008, p.92]

These impressionistic songs shudder to life under the weight of passive-agressive feedback, anchored by Bouzulich's melodramatic howl and Tara Barnes' menancing bass. [Apr 2008, p.96]

The British trio's caffinated, smart-ass guitar pop only underscores that aura of snarky confidence. [May 2008, p.111]

A tastefully matured Bauhaus produce enough fractured guitar and howling melodrama to wake the undead.

In those rare moments when they're truely wired, Texas' odd couple bring quirky soul to the music of machines. {mar 2008, p.102]

Trash has its moments. [Mar 2008, p.106]

These guys sound like they're genuinely torn between looking up at the stars and trying to find an exit to the sewer. Neat trick, that.

Get past glitchy irritants like 'SonDEremawe' and an artful payoff of cerebral, booty-shaking decadence awaits on their ninth album.

The Ruffinas are far better the less seriously they take themselves. [Mar 2008, p.97]

He's already sophisticated enough to paste lines about real heartbreak onto chunky, melodic beats ("True Story"), then turn around and be an equally passionate goofball ("Getting Dumb"). Leaning toward the latter could make him a star outside the backpack circuit.

Red of Tooth and Claw, like 2006's grumpier "In Bocca Al Lupo," runs low on contemporary touchstones or appeal. Keep this on your great-grandparents' Victrola, though, for a rainy afternoon of rootsy escapism.

It's the band's most diverse album yet—and, diversity being their strength, it's also their most accomplished.

Jim White's Joe Pernice–produced fourth record deftly melds Southern-flavored soul with California twang.

When [Ethan Miller] bellows, "Lord, have mercy on my soul," the result is hokey, irresistible fun.

For all its iconoclastic ambition, Sea Lion is a low-key charmer. [Apr 2008, p.102]

It's a winning rethink, salvaging the best bits of a musical style that's too easily missed. [Apr 2008, p.100]

The Felice Brothers aspire to the weird, woozy vibe of the Band's "The Basement Tapes," and often approach it. [Apr 2008, p.96]

The duo are too consistently subdued, and without their usual spectacle, Seventh Tree veers perilously close to dull. [Mar 2008, p.102]

The effect is like a vaguely remembered, pleasantly low-key dream. [Mar 2008, p.97]

The North Carolina native's third album unveils deceptively sharp tales of hearts in distress, implying fierce emotions just under the surface. [Mar 2008, p.106]

NY's Finest has everything you'd expect from this legendary producer. [Mar 2008, p.108]

We have You Surrounded is a terrific accessible hard-rock album deserving more than cult attention. [Apr 2008, p.94]

All this willful messiness adds up to a funny and surprisingly touching mission statement. [Mar 2008, p.101]

The Golden Age is their most placid disc since 1989's "United Kingdom."

This batch of tunes is still suffused with the confessional vibe that made "The Sunset Tree" and "Get Lonely" unlikely emo-folk touchstones. [Mar 2008, p.98]

The US debut of Damien Rice's former band turns sentimental mush into something palatable. [Mar 2008, p.97]

Vernon's voice--delicately layered and yearning--gives standouts 'Skinny Love' and 'Flume' their stunningly direct emotional impact, but his sturdy folk cords, earthy melodies, and plainspoken, pastoral lyrics prevent the album from descending into self-pity. [Mar 2008, p.97]

In flashing back, Cox smears just the right amount of Vaseline on the lens. [Mar 2008, p.96]

Buddy Miller pares down the arrangements and Moorer relaxes, allowing her dark, sultry voice to simmer. [Mar 2008, p.106]

Calling Headlights "nice" sounds like a backhanded compkliment, but Some racing wears the tag proudly: it's charming, but never boring [Mar 2008, p.102]

The band retains the frenzied organ chug and indie-prog lurch of days past, and newish frontman Breck Brunson (who joined in 2006) is an impressively expressive yelper, but Ghost Games never skirts the border of sanity as much as it threatens to.

Music this insistently okay should suffice as sonic Paxil, but there are less complicated ways to treat your depression. [Apr 2008, p.102]

When pop structure interrupts the soundtrack-y vibe, it's modestly and briefly too much of singer Sian Ahern's sad, smok voice would lessen the mystery. [Apr 2008, p.102]

With guitars that ring and roar and percussion that gushes and thunders, they finally turn theirlyrical perculiarities into a legitimate churn of ideas, rather than a posturing diversion. [Feb 2008, p.92]

Like Good Charlotte and Fall Out Boy before them, these multiplantinum Canadian heartthrobs have finally covered up their pop-punk roots completely, on their fourth album. [Feb 2008, p.99]