It's just a little sad to hear Mike giving in to conventionality, even if he does do it better than most.

This record is solid and merits a listening, particularly for fans of similar straight-ahead rockers like the Constantines.

The Further Adventures combines the absolute best aspects of well thought-out and researched studio work with the spontaneity and showmanship of live performance.

It doesn't have a whole lot of replay value.

Pierce sinks his heart into his music, and while that may not manifest in impassioned yelping or big rock riffs, the exquisiteness of his playing and songcraft make it apparent.

This is a record that only Darnielle could pull off: in the hands of a less skilled writer and vocalist, it would fall flat or grate the nerves as so much hyperemotional posturing.

Jayne is a lyricist with the cynical wit of a Stephen Malkmus, but rather than pointing that cynicism outward, he uses it to cut himself down a notch or two.

The music is often awesomely original.

With Untilted, it's apparent that Autechre are still on top of their game.

Even at her poppiest here, this is still chunky, dissonant, and dense.

The album gets really repetitive and just drones into the background.

It sounds like a cross between Off the Wall-era Michael Jackson without the soul, the Banana Splits, the Grease soundtrack and shitty disco records.

While the second half of the album is a miscue -- eschewing the sunny innocence that makes his music so likeable -- I know what'll be in my CD player all spring.

The Perishers' second full-length album is, well, rather bland.

For the most part, BSP is successful in their attempt to infuse a britpop sensibility into the otherwise insipid post-punk genre.

Though the experience of these songs are much easier to digest than their previous releases, Nick and Paul are still creatively pushing themselves with this album.

There isn't a weak track on the album.

I guess whether or not Elevator is worth picking up for you depends on just what you want from Hot Hot Heat. If you liked Make Up the Breakdown, still like it, and want more of the Hot Hot Heat you've come to know and love, then knock that rating up another .5 or so and walk briskly to the nearest record store to buy it.

This album is not going to win the band many new fans, but it is certainly a treat for the converted.

Essentially, Horses in the Sky adopts a host of varying song mechanics and a wider array of lyrical themes, a broadened pallet that either suggest a band in transition, or a newfound confidence in songwriting.

Once upon an Axcess and Ace, this was a musician who would let his timid voice and simple themes sink in until they were a full part of the consciousness. Now, and more so than on the MEC premiere, strings, slide guitar, peddle steel, banjo, violin, trumpet, and piano are filling in every cranny to create less of a full-on effect, but an equally satisfying rash of strong songs.

A beautiful concept that's been beautifully executed.

It is heavier on quality than most Bright Eyes albums I could name -- both musically and lyrically.

It's probably best that the album we've been waiting so long to hear is as safe as Guero is. At this point we just want our Beck, and Guero is as Beck as Beck can be.

It's sucker punch after sucker punch of syllable-swapping fun.

The only problem with this album is the difficulty you're going to have explaining what the hell it sounds like to your friends after they hear you raving about it.

The Alternative To Love to be a quality rock album that covers several genres in influence and doesn't deserve to be punished for not being as good as its predecessor.

It's hard to imagine The Decemberists topping such a fantastic and ambitious record, but as their previous albums show, I'm sure they'll have no problem one-upping themselves again.

Unfortunately, Let Us Never Speak Of It Again barely registers any of the emotion or punch of the debut and, worst of all, goes ahead and adds positively dreadful lyrics to nearly all the songs.

Surrounded by Silence is at once more scatterbrained and fast moving than any other Prefuse album (even more so than the blink-and-you-miss-the-hook Extinguished), but the difference here is the cohesion of the radically different cuts.

Lullabies is one of the strongest albums of 2005 thus far, from beginning to end.

The songs drag, the lyrics lag depth, and many of the songs break down into nothingness due to a lack of concentration and effort.

Church Gone Wild/Chirpin Hard may not be exactly groundbreaking or revolutionary, but it's the kind of idiosyncratic release that reminds experimentalism to laugh when something's funny.

The production is lush and crystalline, and the melodies are dense and aplenty.

Where there was previously a plethora of cuts, glitches, and turntable sounds, there are now indie pop hooks with an underlying aesthetic of experimentation.

It's like an audiobook with the best music ever featured in the medium.

The ease of the instrumentation and the hushed vocals do their part to loosen you up as the music whisks you away to the innocence of childhood and teenage dreams that have never left the recesses of your mind.

The biggest pleasant surprise here, though, is the vocals.

If you like the Super Furry Animals you will definitely enjoy this album.

Daft Punk have released an album so bland and repetitive that it may actually call into question all their past glory. It doesn't seem fathomable, but alas, the proof is seemingly inscribed in each note.

Employment feels more like a patchwork collage of past Brit-rock stardom... than a fully-formed statement of their own. But maybe that's missing the point. When a band has this much fun and crackles with this much energy, you don't ask questions.

There's a professional, assured feeling [to] it, but its nagging lack of innovation or [a] truly memorable melody leaves me a little cold.

Exquisite Corpse's saving grace is that there is enough variety to its ensemble of guest performers to keep the listener somewhat interested.

While the Evens' sparse arrangements may lead the guitar-playing world to finally give drummers their due, an album that is too minimal runs the risk of being absorbed in too few listens, never to be returned to again. Of course, The Evens avoid that trap by going straight to the most obvious musical cliché, "excellent songwriting."

Blue Eyed inarguably sets Hollon as one of the finest artists in electronica today, and it would be a shame if you were to miss out on this release.

One criticism of The Kills is that their stance can feel like a bit of a pose; sometimes it feels like there's a hole where the soul should be. The tracks can also sound a tad too similar.

This is one lush, warm bit of earcandy that will not let you down.

It's pretty much all the same synth leads, bang-bang beats, and tired rhymes as every other Aftermath related project since The Eminem Show, which wasn't that great either.

The listener is unfulfilled at the album's end. We learn nothing new about Sole, who's the only character on the album.... There's nothing to grip on to. All the lyrics are observations twisted into weak witticisms.

While this is drastically experimental by their standards, there is nothing here you haven't heard done infinitely better many times before.

Absolutely the least offensive record you will probably not hear this year.

The hit and miss nature of Transistor Radio makes it seem more like a compilation of songs rather than a cohesive album. But in the end, the album is a winner simply due to Ward's unique voice and talent as a songwriter.

The faithful will be rewarded with this immaculately recorded set of live versions, while the release could provide a solid introduction to those who've yet to discover the virtues of having heavy, emotional music that still manages to let you fill in the blanks.

Feathers is a thousand times more focused and mature than [Shivering King], and it's all for the better.

While LCD Soundsystem is grounded in the past, quality and talent make it an album deserving to be listened to for years to come. Talk to me in a few months, but I think this one won't be beat.

Take Fountain... does little to expand on the formulaic offerings their followers have released. Instead, the album risks running itself into a dead end it creates, all on its own.

Beautifully crafted, complex music which intrigues and begs for another listen.

Instantly enjoyable.

Distrust is crucial not only as the resurrection of the passion and soul of hip-hop in the face of the overwhelming monetary success of pop-hop, but as a vital questioning of feudal policy, raising awareness, and sounding good doing it.

An incredibly compelling collection of inventive folk-tinged melodies.

If anything, this album is best compared to the aesthetic of hip-hop, where allusions to universality and transcendence are simply non-existent, and what we are left with is content that will be dated within months.

Harcourt's piano proficiency separates him artistically from guitarists who tinker with mere chord-banging to accompany lyrics. There are a few misshapen puzzle pieces on this one, though.

Whereas Antony and The Johnsons was a stark, chilling affair that was arresting and perhaps a little disconcerting, this album is a shining beacon of hope and healing amidst ceaseless pangs of heartache and loss.

Happiness In Magazines is one of the best garage rock hybrids to have been released since The Strokes hit it big.

All these flowery production choices can at times be quite seductive, despite the glaring mishandling of the vocals astride them.

Digital Ash in a Digital Urn is a weepy response to the Postal Service.

The theatrical tricks -- and they are tricks -- are more interesting this time around. But by and large, it's more of the same.

When all's said and done, too much of the album sounds dated and uninspired.

Half a good album, half disastrously wrong.

Full of so many moments of exhilarating joy and equally exhilarating sorrow.

This exact formula probably will function well with the new listeners, although it's hard to imagine someone appreciating Buck65 for all he's worth without being familiar with his earlier work.

Sweeney brings an array of agile guitar playing and striking harmonies that create a more contained, musically astute Billyvironment.

We find ourselves encountering songs that give themselves the time and space to breathe, build, incorporate shimmering choirs of backing singers and more layered overdubs than you can shake a stick at into the mix.

Another album to blow up the cemetery to.

It is Amon Tobin's richest work, and incredibly aurally pleasing.

He reins in some of his rougher edges, offering listeners a more streamlined sound.

Trials and Errors could be looked at as vindication for Molina given his choice to move on from his Songs: Ohia days; but as an essential live album, [it] leaves much to be desired.

This album is legitimately well made, and despite his limitations as a rapper, The Game has skill enough to support his charisma.

Comets on Fire, 90 Day Men and No Doctors all released albums within the last year that proved classic rock to be relevant in today's music community. The difference between these bands and Black Mountain is that it doesn't sound like the members of Black Mountain had to crush their souls to write their songs.

It simply lacks even the remotest kind of emotional weight, favoring that emo-lite, predictable kind of melodic progressions that make you swoon the same way a hot muffin on a cold day might.

The subject matter on the indistinguishably titled Love, Angel, Music, Baby is painfully mainstream throughout.

Destiny Fulfilled starts off pitifully and only gets worse.

What is absolutely impressive about MF Doom is his ability to craft unique, memorable characters with each consecutive album release while still imbuing a sense of unity and dynamic interplay.

There is too much focus (or carelessness, perhaps) on his herky-jerky flows that match drum for drum, and the simple rhymes and tired messages are pathetic.

It's obvious after a few listens that the weight of the talent collected here hurts White People as often as it helps.

With Tigers clocking in at a brisk 35 minutes, she definitely leaves you hungry for more.

If you like Palace Music, Joji will most likely make your day.

In spite of every effort and explicit claim to the contrary, it doesn't really sound like they're having that much fun.

His legacy is confirmed and almost nothing he does could harm that, but it also seems as though the young bucks of the music world are progressing the framework more so than he.

A danceable yet heavy album.

As a word of warning, though, this brilliant, but lengthy double album may not be the best beginner's guide to Nick Cave. However, for anyone who is a fan of the duration of his career, this album rewards the listener with a bit of the best of everything he has to offer.

A relaxed, tender record with enough grace, humor, and intelligence mixed at just the right moments with heady rushes of musical energy that one is left captivated.

This record is full of the illogical, instinctive, incomprehensible poetry that the BEST Rock & Roll lyrics are made of, and contains some of the most distinctive and indeed brilliant music of the last ten years/twenty five years/ever/let's get more carried away.

Crackles with sparkling guitar work and [is] simply a great, fun, rock n' roll album.

Mediocre... I'm just so used to this indie dance sound that Le Tigre just sounds boring in the context of Fall 2004.

This is the sound of a band in transition.

If you're not moved in some way, you don't move.

There's a swagger about Dents and Shells unseen since Since.