These songs are reminders of a time when death wasn't a distant bogeyman but a mundane reality of everyday life. Alasdair Roberts's versions are somewhat modernized, but utterly immediate.

Using inventive sounds and solid structures, he has created a damn fine album.

A short but vibrant live album... Tigers captures the boisterous good cheer of Case's live show, proving once and for all that there's more to her music than dead bodies, wounded relationships and creepy, palpable stillness.

Mitchell is a skilled producer, weaving a tangle of complex melodies and countermelodies, rhythms and accents, into a vibrant tapestry; there's a lot more going on in these songs than you can pick up in one pass.

While devoid of the manic energy and double-time rhythms that were almost the group's trademark, songs like "Sweet Marie" and "Tu-Whitt Tu-Whoo" maintain a fiercely rocking edge via slowly evolving song structures and explosive, crunch guitar-driven choruses.

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.

Heart Like A River is a full-throated and diverse expression of the songwriting talents of Daniel Littleton and Elizabeth Mitchell, though bassist Karla Schickele's two contributions are nothing to sneeze at, either.

Other People has a serene, thoughtful loveliness that builds with every listen.

She Loves You's real triumph is the fact that it sounds like a Twilight Singers record first and a covers collection second.

In short, this may not be an album you'll want to listen to every day, but its disproportionate number of "Holy shit!" moments should earn it a spot close to your stereo.

The resultant songs encapsulate the pop-rock aesthetic that made The Strokes' debut so much fun; every tune is tailor-made for dancing.

This is a disc that springs to life under closer inspection but also serves quite capably as background music -- the kind that draws in casual listeners and gets them asking questions.

It's a dense, matte-black monoblock of furious sonic energy -- ultra-compressed riffs, barely controlled bursts of feedback, and lyrics more urgent and angry than anything Wire have done in the last twenty-odd years.

Überzone's constant changeups in style and tempo breathe fresh life into a stale genre.

It's also pleasing to see that Andi Toma and Jan St. Werner want to expand their sound beyond the clicks, pops, squelches, hisses and squiggles that have become their trademark.

Flashes of the energy and precision JOA exhibit in the live forum are, arguably for the first time, perfectly realized here.

Combining the acoustic and electronic worlds of pop, Faux Mouvement plays like a moody soundtrack for film noir.

Though the group largely downplays their skull-splitting excesses, their songs resonate with a fury that a lifetime worth of broken power-chords couldn't match.

A meticulously crafted pop album that's as well suited for curling up on a bleak winter night as it is for driving with the top down on a bright summer day.

Fans who still have a great deal of admiration for eighties Wire will probably be most pleasantly surprised by Read and Burn 02.

Let Us Never Speak of It Again is the sticky, panting, sexually deviant album Louden Up Now should have been.

If you can't quite muster truly fervid enthusiasm for Send, it's probably due, in some part, to the matter-of-factness of its presentation. There is much here to be excited about, but carefully cultivated detachment seems to be Wire's preferred modus operandi.

These minimalist songs are surprisingly and undeniably funky.

Listening to Funeral takes a bit of patience. With most of the songs, the payoff doesn't come right away; in some cases, it sneaks up on you after several spins.

One of the major differences between this and other Grandaddy releases is that Lytle finally seems comfortable in his role as production auteur.

The Emotional Rescue LP asserts the fact that the band not only has exceptional songwriting talent, but has finally concocted a potent mixture of poppy melodies to complement their core of tranquil notes and minimalist orchestrations.

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.

Compelling listening.