Transparent Things, then, sounds less the work of three programmers and more like a band that plays together and stays together—like Hot Chip holding it a little closer to the vest, maybe.

This is a lovingly crafted compilation that not only represents the raw live power of PJ Harvey but also tips a cap to John Peel and the raw power his sessions had on performers.

Thrills hits upon a unique and confident path that doesn’t seem forced or contrived.

They've lost two members... so perhaps that explains some of the more aggressive focus and minimalist arrangement, but not the surprise-around-every-corner freedom they find within their self-imposed stricture.

It's not as much a progress as DCW, but it's easily its equal.

And though the album sags a little towards the end, with a few shorter instrumental numbers, it’s still an invigorating journey, a caravan of cavorting musicians, careening through the countryside, stopping only to play festivals and funerals.

A subtle improvement on the band’s debut.

Underneath the surface of these grand productions lies hidden undercurrents of malice, disgust and social commentary- all things that would seem to be at odds with a beautifully constructed pop song.

The highlights would be far better suited to lesser status on a great album, and turning away from the impressive vocal performances of Rock Action to fully retreat into vocoders and hushed mumbling is a step backwards. [Note: Score listed is an average of two separate reviews, scoring 91 and 72.]

Review 1: <A HREF="http://www.stylusmagazine.com/review.php?ID=1414" TARGET="_blank">All the elements of timelessness are there, but the songs just don&#146;t seem to live beyond the last note. </A> [score=73] Review 2: <A HREF="http://www.stylusmagazine.com/review.php?ID=1415" TARGET="_blank">The Shins&#146; music has grown by leaps and bounds. </A> [score=90]

Part Banana Splits, part The Wicker Man, part genius, The Coral may just have produced the most intriguing, tuneful, humorous and enjoyable debut album of the year, and then some.

Has a laid-back, gleeful quality to it, one that gives the listener the sense that its musicians are making things up as they go along, unable to hide their excitement at the fact that it all sounds so unexpectedly awesome.

The finest Matmos record to date.

La Bella Mafia is one of the top hip-hop albums of 2003, so far.

What happens in The Neptunes Present... Clones is that Pharrell, Chad and co. say &#147;look what we can do&#148;, and then proceed to show us that they can do nearly everything.

The Unicorns&#146; schtick isn&#146;t very difficult to see through; they&#146;re grown adults writing children&#146;s songs for grown adults.

It&#146;s phat, it&#146;s hooky and it&#146;s got tune after tune after tune of stylish, contemporary urban ragga-soul for 60+ minutes, all wrapped round with a voice like socially-aware and really angry honey.

To completely dismiss Camera Obscura for their willingness to partake in this musical grand theft or K-Tel like attitude toward repackaging former eras of music would be unfair; free of the burden of meliorating an individual sound, they’ve been able to craft a consistently enjoyable collection of pop songs that inhabit the passion and style of the music they so clearly love.

I hate to say it, but she might have finally overextended her ambition, resulting in an uneven, discomfiting album.

Sonic Nurse, if not proof of a band bursting with fresh ideas, is at least fresh-sounding.

Its airily liquid, peculiarly French dance-pop is crafted to be almost entirely unmemorable at first, but upon familiarity grow into a wonderfully subtle, hook-laden album of continent-hopping (sub)urban pop which makes an ideological virtue of its superficiality.

Ideally [Fall records will] feature two things: semi-incomprehensible (yet strangely prophetic) ramblings from the eternally tetchy Mark E. Smith, and a band who sound as if their music is perpetually falling down the stairs. The Real New Fall LP delivers on both counts. To much rejoicing.

Easily the most satisfying album of his decade-plus solo career, Illumination marks the first time in ages that Weller has sounded at ease in his own skin: mellow, upbeat, yet aggressive and gritty in all the right places.

This is a rare example of music transcending lyrics in conveying the work&#146;s meaning.

While Seven Swans is possibly a better record than Michigan, with such an overtly Christian sheen, it will be interesting to see if the liberal music press gives it as much praise as it deserves.

Outta Sight/Outta Mind is not an album that you can discuss in measured tones whilst tending to your beard. It is an album that will only cause mass hysteria and blood clots and burst forth Kundalini from the base of your spine like some auto-massage chair plugged into the wrong transformer while you holler &#147;wheeeeaaauurgh!!&#148; and finally slump down into a wet pile of exhaustion.

In the end, that's the best gift the Furnaces have to offer, the simple power of their own joyful racket and clatter, the pure holy hell they always seem to raise.

Apart from Caleb Followill’s distinctive, growly vocals--half-man half-grizzly--this could be a completely different band. A much better band. It’s quite an incredible transformation--and I’ll say this upfront: it doesn’t matter what you thought of their debut, you should listen to this album.