Yes, this is a funny record, but it's not a comedy record; Har Mar has an acrobatic voice that rivals pretty much any male in R&B today, and he writes some genuinely catchy, sticky melodies that lots of other acts would kill for.

Imagine, if you will, The Creation, 13th Floor Elevators and Bruce Haack allowed to run wild in Abbey Road studios for two weeks, and you’ll have an insight into the Howl’s sound.

If the whole record could be as good as the first ten seconds of "Artificial Light", it would be great. But it isn't.

It's disappointing to hear them following trends rather than inspiring them.

A pretty and meticulously-crafted collection of songs.

It's all so beautifully simple, especially moody acoustic guitar/piano laments like "Fewer Words", that you almost miss how effective the arrangements are -- gorgeous, heartfelt melodies yield odes to a life that's consistently surprising and alive with optimism.

As you might expect, the sheer number of tracks means there's a sizeable dollop of filler.

While a few of the songs -- like BMG's team-up with Esthero for a cover of "White Rabbit" -- may generate momentary interest, they all sound a little too much like commercial radio fodder, their quirks depressingly predictable.

This is one tight little record.

Plenty of albums split the difference between gems and junk, but the biggest problem with Glass House is that it lacks any discernible anima; the band seems to be phoning in their performance from a comfy armchair somewhere in Milwaukee.

While the band has adeptly navigated the waters of change, a few moments on Night on Fire are simply too slick for their own good.

Key ultimately demands direct attention; while some songs seem to call out for the openness of a long car ride, this is a headphone masterpiece.

Dirty Dancing is a thoughtful, darkly humorous album -- a consistently danceable mix of state of the art electronic music trends.

City is a noticeably fleshier beast than its predecessor; the album is lush and sophisticated with hooks aplenty.

Deathsentences' series of white-noise sculptures is certainly interesting, but the materials that accompany it will have a far more lasting effect upon your consciousness.

The Johns (Linnell and Flansburgh) are firing on all cylinders here, wrapping their suitably obscure and sometimes ethereal humor in the most capable songwriting of their careers.

You have to admire Hefner's artistic spirit -- but Dead Media is too flawed and derivative to earn serious praise.

If you set the more gratuitous avant-gardities aside, you're left with a fair amount of haunting, beautiful and challenging music.

A towering monument to Esthero's overpowering sense of self satisfaction, this mess overstays its welcome and abuses whatever attention you're willing to spend on it. In short, it's not a career highlight.

It's a well-thought out and solidly executed effort by an artist who hasn't allowed himself to become set in his ways.

The result is so refreshing original, it not only cements Gold Chains' position as one of today's best and brightest indie-tech gurus; it also says, coolly and effortlessly, that genre boundaries are "no big thang".

Russian Doll is defined by beautiful tones, imprecise boundaries, world-weary subject matter and a Phil Spectorian sheen that obscures as much as it illuminates.

Awake is a distinctly flawed album; much of what's here is precious or forced-sounding.

Seal IV... finds him retreading old ground and misguidedly attempting to claim new territory.

The quality is uniform, but below par.

The absence of memorable hooks and catchy choruses is obvious.

For a fractured album that spent several years in limbo, Amber Headlights does two things very well: it's an impressive introduction to Dulli's far-reaching musical talent, and a spiritual cleansing for the wry vocalist himself.

Aside from being tracked incorrectly (on my copy anyway) and not always being of the choicest sound quality, Sad Sappy Sucker shows that Modest Mouse’s rise to the pinnacle of indiedom started at the bottom, just like everybody else.