It’s not mush, it’s just not quite as gleefully obvious as Mclusky Do Dallas was. But, by the same token, they’re not just treading the same ground.

On Collisions, Calla don't flee from their influences; instead, they turn inward on themselves, pushing out at their songs' edges.

Even if Hypnotize is full of missteps, its existence as a separate entity is what makes Mezmerize nearly perfect.

Perhaps the biggest draw of the album--its sheer fragility and unlikeliness, amidst throngs of over-arranged pseudo-chamber indie records.

The album is one of the few anti-industry freakouts that have appealed to me on both a conceptual and musical level, so whether or not you are familiar with Busdriver’s skittering flow or innovative song structure, it’s worth the time to see why he’s so damn mad after all.

Every moment screams to be played a little bit louder and a little bit longer; because Playing the Angel is just that good.

Discover A Lovelier You is as good an album as any in Joe Pernice’s discography.

If this is what treading water sounds like, I'll take it.

His brand of subtlety yields far greater rewards and makes for a surfeit of future discoveries upon repeated listens.

OK, it all gets a bit samey in the middle section. But Jake Kelly adds some nice instrumental flourishes, and Dawson once again proves winning and convincing as a simple troubadour who’s not a simpleton.

Cassadaga falters in the same way I’m Wide Awake did: by trying to present his views as universal, it just exposes how Conor Oberst can’t handle the Truth.

The Double has a high ambition of making outré textures pop, but their obliqueness can walk a fine line between compelling and evasively wussy.

A tremendous step forward, an emotional, melodic smorgasbord of pop bliss.

It is when Adams veers from the hook-orientated path that the record suffers.

There are gimmicks, but there’s musical merit, and genuine feeling to match the calculated charm.

Unlike its Fridmann-produced predecessor Dreamt For Light Years employs a stripped-down approach more akin to its debut.

It's the same McKay on Pretty Little Head. Still the same pretensions, still the same confusions, still the same ability to overcome her own self-imposed handicaps to put out an absolute killer of an album.

Right now Elbow are hitting an emotional pitch no one else is managing; one more personal and more potent than those that might be considered their competition.

Ultimately, Meltdown isn’t as dramatic a failure as its title seems to be begging me to pronounce it--in fact it isn’t really a failure at all. It’s just a crucial dip in momentum.

This is the kind of post punk that loves The Specials and XTC rather than Wire and Joy Division.

Never in his career has McCartney seemed more serious in tone and more aware of the play of his lyrics as poetry.

At 14 tracks long, Orton could have trimmed three or four cuts and left a near-flawless, efficient package that was all killer and no filler. As it stands, it is merely excellent.

The handful of slower songs drag more than they have a right to, and fail to hint at any depth or versatility that’s missing from the straight-ahead rockers.

The disc succeeds by merging a unity of sounds with a complex variety of emotions.

As sumptuous and sublime as much of Hypnotic Underworld is, Ghost tend to noodle too long.

Sleep and Release is both an exceptional release and an unfortunate release, and even when it’s at its best and at its worst, it remains both of these- its emotional and musical scope help the album succeed and cause it to fail.

As accomplished as Radian's sound is, Juxtaposition has trouble conveying new ideas throughout the album.

In the end, we can’t ignore that The Hives’ best moments are those borrowed (or just plain pilfered) from punk acts that preceded them.