As wonderfully crafted an album as Reconstruction Site is, some listeners will be put off by its perceived highbrow attitude; it's too scholarly for the masses, too pop-smart for the avant garde set.

No More Shall We Part is a beautiful, elegant record, capably fulfilling the promise of The Boatman's Call, but it exacts a harrowing toll from the listener. This is not a record to which you can listen lightly; if used as background music it will gradually darken your mood, like poison seeping slowly into a well.

To their considerable credit, TVoTR don't run out of innovation before they run out of songs, so even "Wear You Out"'s final minutes, during which a flute, a sax and various oscillating tones bang away at each other, are inventive and enticing.

Give Up's one real pitfall is that, on the whole, it sounds almost exactly like you'd expect a collaboration between these two men would, or for that matter, should, sound -- which certainly isn't to say that the music isn't enjoyable, or memorable.

A strong contender for album of the year, Shaking the Sheets is a masterpiece of fucked-up mod pop: political but not preachy, insistent yet never twitchy, respectful but never blatant.

While Rejoicing and Niño Rojo were clearer, simpler and more cohesive, Cripple Crow may actually be the better record. It feels exactly like the kind of album Devendra Banhart ought to have playing in his head -- a cacophony of cool sounds, a plethora of contradictory ideas, a patchwork quilt of psychedelically bright colors.

While the band revisits and expands upon musical ideas from its past, Nextdoorland never seems like warmed-over Soft Boys history; the arrangements are exponentially deeper, the playing is energetic and economical, and the songwriting has clearly benefited from Robyn Hitchcock's twenty-year career.

Optometry's highlights throw expectation to the wind. They're more than jazz, more than hip-hop, more than whatever the hell "illbient" actually is.

Equal parts prog-rock pretension, spiritual rejuvenation and glam rock harangue.

Killing Joke feels as fresh and exciting as 1981's album of the same name.

The New Year's sound is fraught with contradictions, soft melodies and pretty strumming stretched over tricky rhythms and acerbic lyrics.

Unlike many live albums, which edit out or otherwise correct artists' less than studio-perfect moments, this album offers Hayden at face value. It captures his faults, but it also captures his strengths.

While they consistently get dismissed as "generic indie rock" by folks who lack the patience to seriously dig into their oeuvre, they are as multi-layered and subtle a band as you'll find.

It's definitely nothing like the laid-back experience of listening to him live, but it's his best album yet.

A safe, if frayed, rock album that bristles and pops with flashes of brilliance, yet never ignites into the full-blown firestorm they're quite obviously capable of creating.

Man-Made is among the finest collections of pop songs any of us will hear all year.

The Clientele have crafted another lovely batch of tunes, perfect for autumnal introspection and wintry solitude -- but somehow it doesn't seem like enough.

The songs on About a Boy are all exactly what we've come to expect from Gough, and the disc's lack of cohesion is its only real failing.

The Stills have always shown promise, but Logic Will Break Your Heart ascends far beyond anyone's wildest expectations.

These are love songs destined for indie purgatory -- the emotions are too real for corporate radio, the hooks too poppy for Indie 103.

Underworld's music rarely makes dull listening, even at its most linear.

These minimalist songs are surprisingly and undeniably funky.

As perfect a brew as this is, it's Gelb's voice and lyrics that push the music into otherworldly territories.

The album sounds full whether you're in the next room or sitting right beside the speakers. Details -- a horn here, a steel guitar there, a lilting piano figure that appears out of the ether -- fill every cranny in a sound that's still as spacious as Giant Sand's Southwestern soundtracks.

Even though Lemonjelly.ky's cover looks like something straight out of Wavy Gravy’s closet, its sound owes much more to the work of '60s luminaries like John Barry, Esquivel and Jean-Jacques Perrey.

Lovers' vast scope quickly becomes a daunting proposition for its listener.

It doesn't always work.... But when it does, in the blended tones and dark piano chords of "The Fox and the Hound", the result is magical and otherworldly.

While the disc's increased emphasis on electronic textures, balanced songwriting and non-linear production is a welcome breath of fresh air, it lends itself to a feeling of sameness that becomes increasingly apparent as the record progresses.