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.

Like David Bowie’s Station to Station or Peter Gabriel’s So, TV on the Radio make music that demands to be listened to actively, as for the listener to absorb the lethal amounts of heartbreak, dignity, and mystery in the human voice.

Most of the tracks here fit into various categories of coffee table mood music; Lerche has a great knack for melodies, but seemingly not much of an idea what to do with them once he’s got them all lined up.

Short of getting into a time portal and hurling yourself back to the late 70s, this is the closest you will get that sound in 2004.

It’ll take an adventurous set of ears and some headphones. Don’t worry, take a deep breath and relax. You see, Beans makes it easy for you by spitting with what is, perhaps, the most technically gifted flow in hip hop today.

With a more succinct drollery and a better sense of studio control, Cee-Lo Green has outdone his fellow Atlantans [OutKast] on Cee-Lo Green is the Soul Machine.

Tellingly, the consistently likable Guilt Show falters only when The Get Up Kids overextend their grasp and depart from their nearly infallible pop formula, as on the “experimental” claptrap of the album’s last two tracks.

On Schizophrenic Chasez attempts to reanimate early-80s electro, disco and new wave back into pop.

In its ambition, emotion, aggression and intelligence, Kick Up The Fire, And Let The Flames Break Loose is a work of sheer bloody genius.

Panda Park might not be one of the easiest albums to get into this year, but given proper time, it reveals itself as one of the best.

<A HREF="http://www.stylusmagazine.com/review.php?ID=1752&PHPSESSID=962ece01ecbce6b79b9bf797952f15ee" TARGET="_blank">It's a much stronger record than you might expect from something that will probably wind up being, in retrospect, a transitional album.</A> [Review 1, score=80] <A HREF="http://www.stylusmagazine.com/review.php?ID=1753" TARGET="_blank">It's just too much; too much noise, too much concept, too much deep NJ woods isolation, and too many witches' tales.</A> [Review 2, score=50]

A boringly functional record full of tediously average songwriting.

I feel patronising calling it a rebirth, return to form or a self-rehabilitation from the brink. Let&#146;s just call it evolution.

Friends: believe me when I say that the combination between the two disparate elements&#150;unbearably goofy synth-pop and sub-par commentary on various parties&#146; political shortcomings&#150;is indeed a deadly one.

Because of its unexpected instrumentation and fine songwriting, &#147;on mani&#148; is the only track on the album that can be praised as anything more than above average.

My problem with Stewart, his band, and the new Fabulous Muscles is that all too often his desire to provoke seems like an affectation.

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.

As ever Wagner’s voice is rich and warm, the instrument of a faltering singer that just gets better with age, cracked and croaked and delivering lyrics with a strange phrasing that makes the most indecipherable and idiosyncratic observation take on a wealth of meanings for the listener depending how they first, or last, hear it. [combined review of both discs]

Whilst the songs on No You C’Mon don’t flow together as smoothly as those on Aw C’Mon, a number of them are of a similar ilk; lush, concise modern country that only Lambchop can do, the sound of a band from Nashville rather than a Nashville band.

Don't bother.

So ignore the Doris-Day-meets-Eminem descriptions you&#146;re seeing; this is more like Kate Bush meets Phil Ochs.

There is a clear passion and enthusiasm in Grohl&#146;s instrumentals and a potency and power in the performance of every singer.

Body Language isn&#146;t so much a massive artistic leap as it is a total distillation of her sound and style.

Hole&#146;s original pr&#233;cis was to become something like Sonic Youth crossed with Fleetwood Mac, and America&#146;s Sweetheart is the closest she&#146;s come to creating that vision.

Throughout The College Dropout, Kanye subverts cliches from both sides of the hip-hop divide, which again isn&#146;t unprecedented, but still refreshing and revelatory coming from someone who could have just as easily stood pat on his massive Midas-producer stacks.

A vibrant album that at times sounds like it&#146;s a young band&#146;s first shot at the cherry.

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

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