Clatter arises from songs and songs from clatter, and it's maddening how so many of them seem to randomly end before committing to actual endings.

Blitzen Trapper's Eric Earley performs the amazing feat of making alt-country seem fresh on the band's gripping sixth album.

Age of Transparency is his best album yet.

Fleshed out with sinister synths and laid-back drums, the Swedish folkie's songs breathe and groove like never before.

An anthology that holds its own against MacLean's "official" releases.

Black Mountain refine their position as the psychedelic hard-rock/goof-folk revivalists that you can actually stand for an entire album.

Don't call these noisy Swedes a nostalgia act. Reuniting with producer Rick Rubin, whose low-gloss production emphasizes the quartet's adrenaline rush, the Conspiracy unleash a barrage of topical bulletins.

Mountaintops has plenty of upbeat romps, but the most compelling moments are the epic, minor-key laments.

Transpose the communal exuberance of Los Campesinos! to the U.S. and you've got this quintet, who prove that sunny, adolescent, pop-rock catchiness will never go out of style.

Ferreira is finally fully reveling in the swirling cacophony that is her sound and her life.

Though they might always hit the sweet spots of DJDS’ first album, Stand Up and Speak’s comprehensive offerings--more substantial in structure and content than your average EDM--nod to the gilded early days of dance music across the country.

Void beats enjoys advantages over lesser Stereolab releases like 2001’s Sound-Dust by offering a rockish danceability they never explored. But the Faustian bargain also ensures there’s no easy pop song like 1996’s “Cybele’s Reverie” or 2008’s “Self-Portrait With ‘Electric Brain’” to break up the largely instrumental bleep-sweep.

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]

Despite their wintry chill-out origins, Nordic keyboard pair Svein Berge and Torbjorn Brundtland create smooth, sunny sounds perfect for roller-skating on rainbows.

Roan coaxes with an almost deliriously euphoric art-rock swagger, while O'Connor infuses every track with hedonistic energy. Amazing Baby are desperate to dazzle--and they often do.

If you’re not feeling Surf right away, stick with it long enough and it just might bring you to its wavelength.

Before Today still sounds like it was dubbed to cassette and left on the dash of a 1983 Datsun for an entire summer. Every aspect seems faded and warped, but that doesn't obscure Pink's savvy maneuvering.

Some marriages end with shrieks, others with sighs. On Loud Planes Fly Low, Rosebuds co-conspirators Ivan Howard and Kelly Crisp set their breakup sighs to a Greek chorus of lo-fi keyboards, singing things they can't bring themselves to say.

The songs are actually strong enough to hold the weight of the over-the-top arrangements. [Jun 2007, p.96]

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

Guitarist Adam Kessler's exit makes room for a more overtly expansive approach on the Drums' just as solid sophomore outing.

Sheets is Campbell's hallucination of a cozy English garden party. [Jan 2007, p.94]

Fans of TVOTR's early density and difficulty might get dismayed at their gradual transformation into the thinking stoner's Coldplay. But it's impossible to listen to Seeds' luxurious fuzz and think that this is a band who mean to be anything but fat and in love.

I’m Up is not a major work in Thug’s catalog. It’s brief and feels disconnected at the beginning and end, and for the most part doesn’t exercise his considerable chorus-crafting muscles. But it’s a fascinating creative time capsule, and feels like a welcome detour during a hugely prolific four-year period.

All-Amerikkkan Bada$$ manages to find a balance between necessary gravity and inviting wistfulness. The message can be preachy, but the pace is conversational.

Peas leader will.i.am mixes up house and disco beats, Chic and Slick Rick samples, wonky Moog hooks, crunchy guitars, and '70s funk bass into one of the year's wildest sonic stews.

Their sophomore effort, the result of a song cycle commissioned by WNYC DJ John Schaefer, shows a thoughtful maturation from winsome debut Taller Children.

The erstwhile pixies preacher takes compliant care of Art Brut's ludicrous good name--rock-fanboy allusions and cheeky declaratives are well repped.