Although much of the album sounds amateurish, and sometimes painfully so, the Unicorns regularly remind us that it's all shtick.

If Tall Dark and Handcuffed was Cex's Slim Shady LP then Being Ridden is most-assuredly his Marshall Mathers LP -- the point at which the protagonistic and absurd becomes personal and nihilistic.

A fairly average jaunt into familiar indie rock territory.

There are times on this record, though, when the quaver fades for a few notes and [Oberst's] voice drops out of hysterical high range, and it's actually pleasant to listen to -- but that never lasts, and that's a shame.

The Ponys have achieved a certain level of competence, and if you're willing to accept that in place of originality or innovation, Celebration Castle is worth checking out.

While there's undoubtedly a wealth of ideas to be found here, listenability is the real wildcard.

It's comforting, for sure, and you could very well fall asleep listening, or use it as background music, but you'd be missing a lot.

Without a doubt the best Elvis Costello record that Costello never recorded.... wistfully irresistible pop confections filled with effervescent melodies and clever lyrical wordplay.

The beauty in all this melancholy is that, interspersed among the reverberating guitars and mournful keyboards, you'll find an assortment of cheerful instruments, such as the accordion, that help to create an underlying tone of optimism.

It pulls from a grab bag of influences, from Bob Dylan to Broadway, The Who to honky-tonk, and tosses them around with apparent abandon. In spite of this (or maybe because of it), The FFs spin all of this into a sound that's consistent, yet almost magically unique.

On Virginia Creeper, he shows a sharpened sense of Midwestern melancholy that is really quite appealing, despite the sometimes hackneyed musical arrangements.

Like Madlib or MF DOOM, Four Tet is at the crest of the electronica/hip-hop wave, forcing the genre's evolution into new realms and making everyone else look like amateurs in the process.

One of the few discs I've encountered that not only attempts to be something more than a simple album, but succeeds.

Darnielle's willingness to throw himself so completely into collaboration is what makes this effort such a triumph.

A unique indie-prog masterpiece that owes as much to Hendrix as it does to Sonic Youth.

At their best, Some Girls can sound like the Stones fronted by Margo Timmins of the Cowboy Junkies -- a contradictory mix of rough passionate instrumentals and vocals that are airy and unconcerned.

It's good stuff, to be sure -- but if Hot Shots II excites you at all, it's probably time to lay off the pot.

All of the tunes are energetic, but their similarity will definitely become apparent by the time you reach the album's end.

Producer Jim Diamond has distilled the manic energy of one of the world's greatest live bands in Electric Sweat, and if the result is not letter-perfect, it is raw and true and powerful.

The more time you spend with Summer Sun, the more fun it turns out to be.

A vibrant, engrossing album by a seasoned band whose best years are still ahead of them.

Slug hasn't grown a whole lot.... Still, his lyricism and delivery are generally smart and entertaining, and Ant's production goes even further toward making You Can't Imagine... a thoroughly enjoyable record.

While they don't quite have the cross-gender appeal of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, the pouty disagreeability of the Strokes or the urbane refinement of the Walkmen, they heedlessly summon the spirits of post-punk monoliths like PiL, A Certain Ratio and the Pop Group without forsaking their gritty New Yawk-ian roots.

Far more mysterious and (perhaps not coincidentally) alluring than most Buckner outings, Dents and Shells is a claustrophobic comedown album wrapped in disillusion and sorrow.

This time around, the man actually sounds excited to be making music.

Coxon's effortless cool comes to the fore, imbuing each song with a wiry, infectious energy.

Punk Rock bears little resemblance to the commodified dross that passes for punk in 2004; it's proud, smart, defiantly working-class stuff that'll remind you why the movement mattered.

Margerine Eclipse isn't a revelation, but it offers a number of minor departures from the established Stereolab standard -- and given the weighty expectations that surround each new 'Lab album, that's probably the best we can hope for.