Watch the Throne is far too good to condemn them thus, but not good enough to erase the possibility.

Sonic strategist Eno is clearly in "oblique" mode here.

Tinariwen's fifth album takes off on an acoustic path following the open-
ing track's otherworldy 
appearance by Wilco guitarist Nels Cline.

Only the electric "It Begins Tonight," righteous of riff and bonkers of solo, plays to his strengths; the rest is like watching Michael Jordan bat .235 in Birmingham.

Endless Now was recorded in the same upstate church where Dinosaur Jr. made 1993's Where You Been, and it sounds like a happy refugee from that alt-rock era, all battering drums and youthful, melodic confusion.

I'm With You is a much more concise record, both thematically and sonically, than 2006's double-disc Stadium Arcadium.

Guetta can't match the inexhaustible bliss of his Kelly Rowland–aided 2009 disco smash "When Love Takes Over," but he can make 50 Cent seem like an edgy Daft Punk fanboy, which is not an insubstantial trick.

Perfect for Magnetic Fields fans let down by 2010's concept-heavy Realism.

This double album (complete with lush art booklet) is styled like a toga party, but some tracks ("Fit for Caesar," "Lucretius") are closer to the 'shroom-chewing highlights of Pink Floyd: Live at Pompeii.

A patient, inviting album that feels like a fresh start from a guy whose recording career spans multiple boom-and-bust cycles, both for indie rock and the economy.

There are unique nods to the band's Latin-
American heritage -- an acoustic flourish here, a manic, Mars Volta–style polyrhythmic breakdown there -- but they're too 
few and far between.

Though still sunny and hooky, Leave No Trace lacks the enigmatic spark of its predecessor, especially now that the words are more readily understandable.

A soulful strut, abetted by a backing singer who's a ringer for Sam Cooke, plus subtle psychedelic touches demonstrate why they 
don't call it classic rock for nothing.

Bridges' country-fried drawl gets wonky (see the shuffling "Blue Car"), but when the pieces come together -- as on laid-back, folksy charmers like "Everything but Love" and "Maybe I Missed the Point" -- the result is as comfortable and unpretentious as the Dude's bathrobe.

Watson gives Nero's robotic skronk a rare injection of humanity, and the U.K. producers are smart enough to build most of their debut full-length around her husky voice.

Wandscher (an original member of Whiskeytown) drives the ship with riffage ranging from gently atmospheric to snarling quasi-metallic. Still, it's Sykes' voice that impresses.

Slave Ambient feels like a more back-alley Byrds filtered through a gauzier Spacemen 3 lens.

This stunning Dane's synths-plus-strings slant on singer-songwriter lovesickness offers refinement over innovation, yet Nanna Øland Fabricius beguiles with a gently insistent presence.

Dom's '80s identikit synth-psych ditties ("Telephoned," the title track) are the most fun when he's slyly and/or drunkenly tugging your skirt. Not when he sidles up all polished and proper.

It's indie rock as hearty and art-free as oatmeal, before the line separating it from the mainstream dissolved, before it became so...eclectic.

An indelible quiet-storm jeremiad.

Her deadpan delivery -- a more extreme version of awkward queen Maria Bamford -- and her truly singular material (how she saved the career of forgotten pop diva Taylor Dayne, an impression 
of someone doing an impression) don't need silly faces to be hilarious.

Blue Songs' prevailing mood is deep indigo, not ultraviolet, yet that darkness heightens and complicates.

Romweber is still ruler of his own bossa nova rockabilly kingdom, skipping from surf-guitar rave-ups to spacey instrumentals to sepulchral balladry, with the occasional Xavier Cugat cover tossed in.

Ironically, spitting over minimal head-knock beats from WHY? and Advance Base, Serengeti sounds reborn.

This is the first stateside CD reissue of the stylistically peerless album.

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).

Sky eschews the occasional decade-hopscotching of 2007's Traffic and Weather, reaching a new, raw sincerity and cohesiveness.