After repeat listens, the content of El-P’s more afflictive lyrics begins to fall away so that only the rhythm and timbre of his smoky growl remain to complement the record’s malevolent chorus of synth effects and samples. A beautiful use of negative space, indeed.

Despite its misfires, Tongues does make for an intriguing listen, and the record is punctuated with the occasional highlight.

For an album constructed from so many constituent parts, Person Pitch is amazingly warm and inviting at times, wrapping around the ears, nestling the head, and squeezing like a nice familial bear hug after years of no contact.

RTX’s Western Xtermintor packs an undeniable hard-rock punch and leaves no question that the band have both the chops and the attitude to back it up.

A classy affair all the way, Black Pompadour is sure to impress those who let it work its magic.

What do these songs evoke? Nothing much in the realm of emotion.

Taken within the context of !!!’s (and, by default, OUT HUD’s) legacy, it doesn’t feel like a step in any particular direction so much as a million ideas left to duke it out.

It isn’t life-changing, genre-defining, seizure-inducing, or any other clever hyphenated compounds, but it is a thoroughly enjoyable, rewarding listen.

The songs are allowed to crack a few knuckles and stretch their legs before they do any heavy lifting, and you’ll find yourself appreciating their roots more as a result.

I think a big part of the problem is the singing. The lyrics are alternately cloying and curious, and they’re sung in a pretty and formal manner.

A disappointment, maybe, but that’s to be expected – and shouldn’t we prefer that he want to give us something new?

Security is absolutely accessible, with a broad, potentially surprising appeal for those willing to listen.

Another quixotic, cerebral, and indispensable album from one of Canada’s great talents.

True, Money Mark has a typical singer-songwriter vocal presence, but lighthearted lyrics sprinkled with clever one-liners here and there do a sufficient job.

All of a Sudden I Miss Everyone isn’t the band reinventing themselves. Instead, you’ll have to settle for Explosions in the Sky perfecting their craft, which is nice to hear regardless of genre.

Sex Change will please both their fans and newcomers; in fact it might be one of the best intros to their work so far.

King for a Day will definitely ‘love you long time’ with its bloated tracklisting, but you’ll soon realize that the attention-getting devices are working in reverse. Sure, they’ll cause you to crook your neck and gaze curiously, but once it all comes into focus, you’re likely to move on to better things.

Although his rough-around-the-edges production and label affiliation suggest he is a folkie or New Weird American, his songwriting harkens back more to Tin Pan Alley than The Incredible String Band.

Their flutters of effects, long, frosted periods of sonic dormancy, pefectly balanced twin vocals, and general sense of space set them apart from the herd with a surety you only see in the elite.

While spare in its construction, Copia offers a bounty of emotion for those who give it the chance.

An unapologetically lovely affair that is sure to soothe the frazzled nerves of its discerning listening public.

Juggling potential contradictions with the greatest of ease, In Advance of the Broken Arm ushers in a new voice in rock, one that seems poised to be blazing trails for years to come.

The more I listen to Tones of Town, the more I can’t get it out of my head.

NMW works as a ‘00s update of British invasion rock and orchestral and baroque pop, just as Jeff Lynne and the boys updated those sounds for the ‘70s.

It’s a difficult album to love, or even like. But, for all its faults — and there are many — there is enough here to make one think that maybe, just maybe, Bloc Party are capable of making, with their third LP, the kind of challenging yet highly accessible pop album they think they’ve made here.

The collages he’s created are undoubtedly lovely, but as they stand, the songs sound more like attractive opportunities for great musicality than confident realizations of it.

Replacing the kitschy DIY aesthetic with intentional roughness and bloating each nook and cranny with some sort of sound, what’s emphasized is its production, not its songwriting.... At the same time, however, it’s the production that makes the album somewhat interesting.

His choruses are instantly memorable and his word-soup lyricism easily places him in the upper echelon of intelligent emcees, somewhere between MF Doom and Dose One.

There’s No 666 will challenge you as much as anything you’ve heard in the last year, in both good ways and bad.

A generous musical vocabulary enables each song to speak with both a familiar voice and novel inflections.

[A] near-masterpiece.

Deerhoof may be more serious this time around, but the music’s still very imaginative and fun.

What makes these songs so positively delicious, in the same way that going on a bender can be a welcome alternative to crying into a pillow, is that Barnes realizes how seductive misery can be.

While Menomena’s sound has matured and their musical prowess has grown considerably, similarities between songs of old and new are unmistakable.

[It] finds her in fine form.

Chalk this one up as a failed experiment, albeit one that ups enthusiasm for explorations to come.

The lyrics are particularly generic, even for a pop band, and they render The Broken West’s mission obsolete.

An album that, much like Pinback’s 2004 full-length Summer in Abaddon, is more immediate in its appeal but suffers from repeated listens.

Mos Def’s third album is worth a careful listen: it’s not a happy record, and there are few, if any, genius rhymes. But it speaks volumes about the frustration and resignation of the underprivileged.

This is easily the biggest disappointment of 2006.

No album will ever move you quite like it, and if it weren't for a slight misstep, it would be perfect in almost every way.

Pick your adjective[:] Over-the-top, anthemic, epic.

Full of spirituality and hope, these new songs lack a thrust.

Every strong point is matched by a weaker one, but there is never an extremity of either.

Pussy Cats Starring the Walkmen more than makes up for the lackluster A Hundred Miles Off.

The problems start with the production, which feels empty and stolid, the guitar plunking around like it has nowhere important to go and the drums tap-tap-tapping out mundane, aimless little shuffle rhythms.

Listening to World Waits, you get the feeling that it would be a more enjoyable record if Enigk didn't execute every single note with such immense, ridiculous fervor.

Hello Everything is his most disappointing release yet.

It’s not that The Opera Circuit doesn’t sound pleasant, or that his lyrics aren’t solid; they just don’t hit me as being all that moving or even mildly engaging.

Either too sugary or too bitter and complacent, Normal Happiness is a strictly a family affair.

Oddly familiar but strikingly different.

Formerly a more stolidly post-punk outfit, their bread and butter on Remember the Night Parties are the kind of R.E.M.-meets-Superchunk anti-anthems of “For the Khakis and Sweatshirts” and “Return /of Burno.”

There’s really no good reason to seek this out if you already own the... debut album.

Each track feels more like a costume change than a true exploration of new waters, as the group's newfound love of blustery free-for-all psych ultimately has more to do with the members' broad record collections than their ability to function as versatile musicians.

The band's strongest offering to date.

This rocks.

So, no, this isn't the sound of The Dears taking it to the next level, but the level they're on is still pretty solid.

The band's most ambitious, mind-blowing, and best record yet.

Lennon isn’t attempting to re-invent the wheel with Friendly Fire; he’s just writing a narrative using thoroughly enjoyable pop melodies.

Her words read and speak like a haunting.

So what if Scissor Sisters aren't challenging the conventions of pop music?... [Ta-Dah is] great and will please their fans.

Essentially, Haines' piano playing and singing are lovely, but Knives' timidity, coupled with mundane and occasionally outright bad lyrics, keep this record in check.

As close to perfect as a noise album can be.

The Outsider screams to be downloaded in sections by fans of specific genres.

Return To Cookie Mountain is one for the ages.

Amputechture, though not near as spam-handed as Frances, is a bumpy ride, registering somewhere between the latter and debut full-length De-Loused in the Comatorium.

In the end, Junior Boys' improved skills at constructing pop songs within their fantastic sonic template is more than enough to make So This Is Goodbye one of my favorite releases of 2006 so far.

Good luck finding a better straight-up indie-pop/indie-rock record this year (save TV On The Radio) that's as uninhibited, unique, and flawlessly all-over-the-place as I Am Not Afraid Of You And I Will Beat Your Ass.

In its many moments offering something warm and comfortable, Into the Blue Again might have been able to gain the status of one of those albums that could settle restless nerves, but this undercurrent of coldness counteracts this idea, leaving some tracks unsatisfying, passable rather than pleasing.

A much more serious, often less danceable, instrumental effort.

The Air Force may signal that Xiu Xiu isn't as jarring and bewildering as they once were, but there's more than enough fortitude and craft present to ensure that Stewart will always be a good handful of steps ahead of everyone else making "experimental" pop.

Grizzly Bear are an Animal Collective that decided to go more intelligible and accessible instead of running naked through the woods on five hits of sunshine acid while screaming in tongues.

No one is reinventing the wheel here; humility rules, and what makes Gala Mill so impressive is how The Drones wear their emotions on their sleeves and how naturally everything spills out.

Perversion packed with allusions -- forgotten titles, purloined and paraphrased sources, pilfered public records and archives. This is what steeps the songs in American history instead of planting them in psycho wards, clinics, and retirement homes.

It is an excellent album that has taken them seven long years to finally get to, but those are seven years that have been evidently well spent: After years of mediocrity and being, to some degree, marginalized -- just when the world needed them -- The Roots are back like never before.

It's end-of-summer music.

It's a great introduction to the wide range that Broadcast works with, and it holds together as well as any of their albums.

Lazy Saturday mornings are meant to be had with this album.

Goat devotees should be most satisfied with this addition to the collection, and the uninitiated could find worse places to start.

The only drawback is Hutch Harris' vocals.

She's just as accomplished as a woodsy singer-songwriter as she is a synth-pop Star.

For all the technology they bring to the table, Ratatat are soulful and savvy, putting everything in its right place and locking the listener in.

If there's anything to lament about Avatar, it's that its moves towards accessibility, narrative, and more diverse pastures probably won't help to broaden Comets' fanbase.

No matter how you want to face it, the secret is out: pop isn't Friedberger's bag.

Nu-Mark's beats still refresh the old school in the J5 way we've become accustomed, but the other beats here represent a sad cross-section of mainstream styles, totally missing the point of their first three albums.

Even though Days To Bed is littered with the sort of tunes that indie pop fans obsessively search for, it suffers the same fate as the group’s previous releases. By the time you reach the final 25% of the album, you’re more than ready to go to bed — and not in a good way.

A painful disappointment.

CSS's music is almost immediately infectious and surprisingly poppy.

Black Holes and Revelations is probably the least restrained album of 2006, which for some is a blessing, for others a pretentious annoyance. It is, however, a focused album.

Oneida is traveling further down the path laid out in last year's The Wedding. It's equally pastoral, with luscious production and Bobby's surprisingly beautiful voice taking centerstage.

Nigel's production and arrangements leave very little room for the songs to breathe... However, the emphasis on Thom's lyrics illuminates The Eraser's strongest asset: its content.

Mistake may be a solid, somewhat complex electronic music release, but its nerdy precision has the tendency to render the melancholic, brooding melodies somewhat impotent.

Skip the first track and Greedy Baby is a welcome addition to the Plaid catalogue, though not nearly as essential as their earlier works.

It's a pleasure to be embraced by a record this pretty and soulful.

[A] wondrous debut record.

News and Tributes is relatively smooth sailing from note one; very consistent and effectively less immediate.

It's still better than most of the records that have come out this year; it's just that the Sparks family has set such a high precedent that even slight missteps are bound to disappoint.

If you were hoping for a predictable outing from Ben Chasny, you won't find it on The Sun Awakens.