Beans has yet to learn, however, that we’re paying the price of admission to hear him wrap his tongue around the mic, not screw around with his drum machine.

The mood for both is, in a word, joyous.

A vibrant album that at times sounds like it’s a young band’s first shot at the cherry.

Those looking for the instant gratification of the first side of YFIIP--the “Almost Crimes”s, the “KC Accidental”s, the “Anthem”s--will be grossly disappointed. This is a collection for those of us who dug the album’s second side--meandering, experimental, but ultimately just as urgent and just as rewarding.

A more straightforwardly uplifting listen.

Where Jerusalem was all reaction, humanely riddled with helplessness and incomprehension, The Revolution Starts...Now is the well-honed response, a focused act of civil disobedience.

The Hold Steady, then, is not yet an outstanding band, but unlike its New York contemporaries, shows the sort of distinctive talent that suggests that one day, it might be.

Kill the instrumentals and one or two filler tracks and you've got one of the best EPs of the year.

Fortunately, the good songs outnumber the bad; unfortunately, the veteran Costello has made the rookie mistaking of frontloading the disc.

What it ultimately comes down to is style versus substance. Once Midnight Movies matches the latter with the former, the results should be nothing short of stunning.

What makes Trust Not Those In Whom Without Some Touch Of Madness a career highlight for Zedek is how she avoids misery while continuing to confront emotional storminess.

Though lacking in innovation, the final GBV album will please any longtime fan that prefers “Game of Pricks” to “Chicken Blows”. Pollard’s songwriting finally feels consistent, fully realized and commanding.

Interesting, strong in places, but overlong and uneven.

Pawn Shoppe Heart is the type of thrillingly raucous, visceral, harsh, storming brand of balls-all-the-way-out rock familiar to anyone paying vaguely close mind to current Detroit rumblings.

Ultimately we can’t get a bead on Brandy precisely because she hasn’t yet figured it out herself.... Which is exactly what makes Afrodisiac such a fascinating exercise.

So even if, like me, you find the lyrics and Elton John-style coda to “Superfool” annoying, you’ll probably also find yourself singing along; this is the sort of record whose vices, if you give it a chance, slowly become virtues.

The baggy beats and techno touches that occasionally made their eponymous debut seem slightly forced and naïve are stripped away, O’Brien’s production giving the band a more expensive, professional sound, just as massive and frenetic as the wilful teenage strafing they used to create, but with infinitely more control.

The Libertines don’t even try for a good album; they sound like four blokes lucky to be jamming in the same room again, and their joy in each other’s company redeems the enterprise.

Does Summer Make Good maintain the peak established by its predecessors? In a word: no. But that doesn’t mean it’s not good, because it is; it’s just not quite as magical as the others.

Under My Skin is a far more balanced album than Let Go, allowing Avril to stretch out a bit more and not suffer the troughs that typified any song that happened to follow a Matrix penned track.

Allow me to offer some parting advice: just because a record expresses emotion doesn’t make it bad.

A veritable debutante ball of sad little songs.

After hearing the crap people have said about this album I’m bummed that people are so quick to reject what doesn’t fit their immediate logic. It’s ironic that folks would get off on shredding an album that’s about trying to be kind and honest at the same time.

More than anything else, Past, Present and Future is a record that is important because it denotes progress and the promise of far greater things.

Leo proves himself emotionally enervating throughout, so it’s really a shame that Shake the Sheets isn’t half so sonically invigorating.

Jacked up on myriad assembly-line noises, mechanical tinkerings, and golden acoustic guitar strumming, they manage their melodies with a deftness that keeps them loose and limber in the quiet assault of the underlying density.

A semi-bizarre and semi-wonderful example of twisted, melted country-blues-psyche-pop oddballness.

Thankfully, the music overpowers DeLaughter’s weak voice.