Though indebted to the brassy blasts and pleading yelps of James Brown, as well as the riffs of the MC5 and Stooges, Lewis and Co. avoid sounding either self-consciously retro or awkwardly modern on Scandalous.

Richard Youngs' 11th solo album on Indiana indie Jagjaguwar ditches the keyboards of his recent releases, instead relying on disjointed guitars, eerily overdubbed incantations, and the rich, multihued drumming of Damon Krukowski (Galaxie 500, Damon & Naomi).

Their most immediately pleasurable album. [Sep 2006, p.104]

With such sharp detail, Kaiser Chiefs have elevated themselves from a singles band to a group that's capable of both having a laugh and making a focused statement about life's less gleeful side. [Apr 2007, p.92]

FORGET sets out for new terrain with an expanded collection of collaborators, but isn’t far from what you’d expect from the project at this stage.

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

Their bright Americana ditties have a newly retro, country-fried twist that suits them just swell. [Nov 2008, p.88]

Get Guilty dwells on the past, and that pensive reflection mutes the second half, turning Newman's boast into a wistful memory.

What we’re left with is a stylistically stimulating album that further fleshes and mellows out the band’s peppy, preppy sound, shading it towards country music and acoustic stoner-rock--the sort of thing you might hear at, say, an impromptu Earth Day concert in a park.

Frontman Aaron Aites counters the otherworldly ambience with straightforward strains of classic indie rock (think Sebadoh and Pavement). That combination can be jarring, but mostly in pleasant ways.

Hidden would be unbearably pretentious if Barnett and crew didn't execute their mission with such wild-eyed determination. Instead, it's a chilling thrill.

Though crunching at their heaviest, the band still shines brightest when they edge toward indie-rock approachability.

Sports the trademark soul loops, crackling drums, and underwater ambience of his best past work. [Sep 2006, p.103]

There's enough promise here to rattle more cages soon. [Jun 2007, p.94]

Nothing on Heartworms matches the processional majesty of Port of Morrow’s “Simple Song,” or even the go-for-broke mugging of “Fall of ‘82,” an unholy riff on Joe Walsh, Steely Dan, and Thin Lizzy. What Heartworms does have, though, is the informal approach to formalism shared by another Southwesterner transplanted to Portland, Britt Daniel.

All We Are can be a somewhat tough album to get a grip on, because it invites musical styles that seem to be set in opposition to one another to find chemistry, resulting in a genre that can really only be described in apparently oxymoronic hybrid terms like "discogaze" or "slowfunk."

'Shake the Devil' purrs with a Ray Charles-worthy retro R&B beat and the furious nonvegan chorus of 'Shake that Pig!' [Nov 2008, p.88]

It’s a lot to take in, especially from a band formerly so minimalistic, but musically, it holds together.

The meat of the album is about relationships gone awry, but the edges of that are where PUP really flourish.

The trio offers copious catchy bits, more tonal variation than the usual guitar-plus-beats norm and an appealingly pleading frontman in Ed Macfarlane. [Nov 2008, p.91]

With Simpson self-producing Earth, and with the Dap-Kings always ready to land on the one with a bari-sax skronk, it feels like a Nashville album that’s been dudded up and funked out.

The second half of this album is far more earnest; and in related news, far less fun.

These soulful laments and menacing gospel rumbles don’t really demand attention but reward it handsomely.

Lambert is still at her bubbliest playing a guntoting, wisecracking, catfighting gal next door who cusses like a sailor, or at least brags that she does, plotting revenge on lying boyfriends and town hypocrites--preferably at cowpunk tempo.

The album also features songs written and sung by other Apples, and while they're perfectly pleasant indie pop, they only accentuate Schneider's mastery.

The best bits are when the band’s own drummer Dale Crover picks up the bass for a third of the album’s 12 tracks.

With riffs this sugarshit sharp, who needs ideas? [May 2002, p.124]

It’s disorienting, upsetting, and edges toward unlistenable in its brutalist structures. But it’s a reminder that even if claustrophobia’s an unpleasant feeling, it’s always a powerful one.