They make honest indie rock for those looking for a solid, good song. There's no frills, no fancy production, just the purity of these songs.

With The Body, The Blood, The Machine the Thermals haven't made another thrilling noisy gem like More Parts Per Million, they've made an inspired and inspiring, semi-grown up indie rock record with more thought than thrills.

Fans of Bachmann's gruff Neil Diamond-meets-Steve Earle vocals and lonesome and literate subject matter will find everything they love about the Carolina native on display, while those who prefer his vocal affectations surrounded by the din of a full band should stick with his group efforts.

Despite it missing the fire of his first record, it's a worthy piece of work.

The uniformity of the album is at the expense of clear-cut standout tracks.

What makes it less successful than 1999's Kaleidoscope and 2003's Tasty is that it's extremely choppy and excessively long, and it doesn't have the range of emotions to match the varied backdrops.

The Outsider is a carefully crafted, artistically elusive mess -- far more scattershot than even his first UNKLE record (Psyence Fiction), but much more interesting for its excellent productions.

Sometimes Darkel seems in danger of floating away on its flights of fancy, suggesting that Godin gives some of Dunckel's more whimsical ideas some grounding when they work together as Air. Nevertheless, this is a lovely working holiday, full of songs as shimmery and delicate as bubbles, and their slightness doesn't make them any less enjoyable.

Ben Kweller treads the same path as Kweller's other work, but fortunately, it still sounds genuine, not formulaic.

Peaceful and undeniably pretty, this is an album that should please many Sparklehorse fans, even if it doesn't challenge them the way Good Morning Spider and It's a Wonderful Life's best moments did.

Some cuts, like the English murder ballad "Shankill Butchers" and "Summersong"... sound like outtakes from previous records, but by the time the listener arrives at the Donovan-esque (in a good way) closer, "Sons & Daughters," the less tasty bits of The Crane Wife seem a wee bit sweeter.

Depending on how much Robin Guthrie you want in your life, Continental is either redundant or another reason to love him.

Maybe by the time their next album rolls around they will be able to tame their influences into a more coherent-sounding body of work that will more fully represent their abilities.

It might not quite seem like what a Fantastic sequel should be -- in fact, it seems more like a sequel to its direct predecessor, 2004's Peachtree Road -- but that's hardly a bad thing.

Shine On is a good album that avoids the sophomore slump, but has enough moments of rote rocking to make the next record a worrisome prospect.

The feel is late night, on the edge of quiet, and full of pathos.

Merritt doesn't deviate from his signature lo-fi synth pop and brooding vocals, but he certainly sounds like he's having a whole lot of fun.

Though some might find it on the meek and lightweight side, many more will likely revisit Long Island Shores again and again.

While Once Again might not get as much attention as its predecessor, it's more assured and sounds nothing like an experiment to see what sticks.

It's one of the most mystical indie-pop surprises to arrive in 2006.

This captures a less self-conscious Oberst, which is often a better Oberst.

A little messier than its inspiration but with the same freewheeling spirit, the Walkmen's Pussy Cats feels like a musical wake, rooted in just having fun making music with friends.

Ultimately, Saturday Night Wrist is satisfying, though it may take a few listens given all the changes in individual cuts that tend to blur together the first time or two through.

No, Endless Wire is not perfect -- its parts don't quite fit together, and not all of the parts work on their own -- but it is an endearingly human, impassioned work that more than justifies Townshend's and Daltrey's decision to continue working as the Who.

For the most part, the ladies have chosen not to stray too far from their plainclothes rootsy sound, and while that may disappoint some fans, there's enough quality stuff here to light a fire in every train yard oil drum from Vancouver to Halifax.

This is a keeper, one of those records that you'll still be listening to in ten years.

9 is by no means a failure, or even bad, but it dulls in comparison to what Rice can really produce, which makes it disappointing overall.

With Beast Moans, Swan Lake has married the talent and off-kilter intelligence of all three of its members with something more abstract, more visceral, something that sets it apart from all of their individual work.

This may not be a concept album, but it's structured as a narrative, mirroring the plot of the movie. Unfortunately, this doesn't give The Pick of Destiny the weight or grandeur of a true concept album, because a lot of the music sounds as if it serves the movie, and doesn't stand tall when separated from the film.

Even with its flaws, When Your Heart Stops Beating possesses a surprising vulnerability, which gives the album an understated strength and makes it such an enjoyable listen.

The delicateness of Half the Perfect World is certainly nice, but Peyroux seems to be using it as a device to hide behind instead of an actual expression of feeling.

The Re-Up has plenty of that serious heat that influenced Eminem to go aboveground with the release.

The Destroyed Room is a creative -- and quintessentially Sonic Youth -- approach to the rarities and B-sides comp.

Hip Hop Is Dead is not Illmatic.

There's definitely an unfinished and tentative feel here.

Woke Myself Up captures the wide range of sounds and emotions of her music, and all the nuances of them as well.

The Enemy Chorus is a strangely formidable album, and in its own way, a daring one, too -- these songs of revenge, oppression, emptiness, and despair might puzzle some fans at first, but they certainly are impressive.

It's a little uneven and definitely not the reinvention of music as we know it, but Myths of the Near Future is a strong enough debut to survive a level of hype that has crushed other bands, and enjoyable enough to return to when the hype dies down.

For a band that was once so self-assured and able to utilize its talents so compellingly, the album is regrettably haphazard.

This ambitious use of resources and influences could very easily end up creating an album that sounded severely disjointed, even incoherent, but k-os is able to make something that, despite the diversity between tracks, works very much as a whole.

Highly recommended.

It does signal a turn toward a more thoughtful, artistically ambitious sound than before, not just maintaining the Scottish neo-prog quartet's penchant for forward movement but catapulting them out of minor-league status.

Yet although his mixture of politics, heart and intelligence with taut guitars and a sweet falsetto will presumably be engaging forever (and Leo hits much more than he ever misses), it's getting hard to ignore that little voice inside that wants something more from him.

Two skills he has mastered in the past, mood and texture, make this record especially good.

It's sturdy, well-written power pop, but it falls prey to some of the faults of craftsmanlike pop -- mainly, it's possible to hear the craft behind the pop instead of just getting sucked into the sugar rush of the melodies.

Perkins avoids reveling in depression and instead follows the route that other singer/songwriters like Leonard Cohen, Nick Drake, and Bob Dylan have put down before him, telling detail-driven stories of people and life.

This album is the prescription for anyone who thinks rock has imploded or has nothing new to offer.

The Magic Position loses a little focus near the end, but flashes of inspired lunacy like the jarring arrival of a spectral Marianne Faithfull on the spooky "Magpie" help to make this unpredictable collection of Victorian-peaked electro/folk-pop so hard to dislike.

Mark's laid-back stride keeps the affair surprisingly buoyant.

The album is just so uniform in its beauty that tracks simply blend into one another.

This is a record that gives up its secrets slowly, while being charming and delightful at every turn.

While it's nice to have another Mary Chain record, what makes the record even better is the presence of Linda Reid.

It employs all his strengths as a writer of lyrics and music and stretches the canvas of his colorful if sparsely arranged tapestry.

As admirable as Life in Cartoon Motion's eclecticism is, it could use more focus.

Her musical vision and production skills are almost astonishing in places. [But] American Doll Posse is a work that has its problems due to its sprawling nature.

This is a sleepier record than 2005's Dimmer, but it rewards the careful listener with enough waking dreams to fuel a hundred overcast Sunday mornings.

Another gorgeous album.

A mixed bag.

An enjoyable next step for the Academy Is..., this album shows that the guys are still growing, but maybe just starting to figure themselves out.

What At the End of Paths Taken means for the Cowboy Junkies: it's like a renaissance.

They've given up some of the whimsy and trippiness that marked their first two releases, but they've gained direction.

We'll Never Turn Back is the kind of album we need at the moment, one that doesn't flinch from the tradition but doesn't present it as a museum piece either.

Those whose favorite form of Wheat is the aforementioned major-label effort, or even the elegant chamber pop of Hope and Adams, might consider this willful album an exercise in self-indulgent noise, but in the context of the duo's career as a whole, it sounds much more like a deliberate stylistic retrenchment.

What it does has pretty much been done before -- but it's done well, and done right, and in the end, it's successful.

Strength & Loyalty doesn't overcome its challenges; it just sidesteps them and works hard to reward fans for a decade of patience.

Where Wolf Parade dips into more than their fair share of upbeat, even disco beat-driven, music, Handsome Furs instead pull back and strip down their songs.

Easy Tiger delivers what it promises: the most Ryan Adamsy Ryan Adams record since his first.

In the end, Curtis is entertaining but only impressive in that 50 can run in place and still be on top.

The Mix Up is not a major statement, but that's the nice thing about the record: it's as personal and idiosyncratic as any old funky soul-jazz LP that you'd find deep in the crates of a second-hand record store.

Though it may not be flawless, it's pretty satisfying nonetheless.

While Bad Brains never quite match the intensity of their early days, this is easily the best record they've released since Quickness.

Funeral for a Friend not only displays an increased sense of ambition on this sweeping great leap forward, they also display a greater sense of accomplishment, as writers and musicians.

This record is more cohesive than the debut, partially due to the presence of Weiland's old STP producer, Brendan O'Brien, who lends the recording color and texture that enhances the melodies while still giving the guitars considerable muscle.

The sound quality is ultra-clean, it makes the listening experience relatively risk-free and also brings attention to the fact that there's not a lot of ground being broken here.

O pure musical terms they're more gripping than many of their peers, displaying a restless sense of musicality that often makes Paper Walls interesting even if means they can stray toward areas that are just a shade too indulgent for their own good.

Even though there certainly are a few tracks ("Swift and Unforgiving," "Hey, Thanks," and "Apartment") distinctly lacking for a little more oomph in their execution, the album's overall balance is overwhelmingly positive at the end of the day.

This is a decent album; it bears a craftsman-like solidity and many fans will no doubt be satisfied (and, more than that, happy) with it. But <i>An End Has a Start</i> is simply not the best album Editors are capable of putting together.

The second half of The Else is so good that it's a little frustrating that the entire album isn't this solid. Still, there are more than enough good moments to keep longtime fans happy.

Calling the World might not be radically inventive, but its solid songcraft and playful shout-outs to rock history are a lot of fun.

Three Easy Pieces is the sort of reunion album that happened for the right reasons - because these players still work well together and have good songs to share - and anyone who ever cared about this frequently underrated band will want to hear them in this impressive return to form.

Planet Earth is the sound of a working musician working, which makes it a bit of a passing pleasure, yet there's no denying that it is indeed a pleasure having him turn out solid records like this that build upon his legacy, no matter how modestly.

The album includes a handful of well-placed and effectual guest contributors, including Bilal, Dwele, Lily Allen, Common's dad, and the one and only Primo. Still, it's a shade less satisfying than "Be."

The only thing lacking after the debut were the pop songs. This was evident with each successive proper album, but this flaw is put into too sharp of a relief on Absolute Garbage.

With each album, the Cribs have gotten a little sharper and more focused, and nowhere is this clearer than on the brilliantly named Men's Needs, Women's Needs, Whatever, the band's major-label debut.

Is Is may not be the Yeah Yeah Yeahs' most immediately accessible music, but it is some of their most compelling work in some time

The Broken String ups the ante considerably, reworking ten songs from the EP cycle and two new cuts into lustrous indie pop notable for its versatility, clever lyrics, and offbeat instrumentation.

As lyrically eclectic and clever as it is musically, this is one fascinating album.

There is much to like about Cookies: Jackie McKeown has a perfect yelping voice to pull off the sarcastic, knowing and sassy lyrical pose, the band is tight and raw but able to rein things in on funky tunes like 'Arcade Precinct,' and Butler keeps things quite simple and gets a remarkably punchy sound out of the trio.

The rest of Under the Blacklight feels like the Jenny Lewis show and even if this album doesn't push Rilo Kiley to the top, it's hard to deny that it feels like the launching pad for her ascent into true stardom.

At 20 tracks and nearly 80 minutes, Eardrum is both too much and too little, never quite understanding exactly what it needs to be.

Though it lacks their star power and radio-ready hooks, it offers instead songs that are written and sung with a heartfelt authenticity neither McGraw nor Hill can rival.

Though the album has its fair share of songs that sound like stylish, smart, but lulling background music on first listen, The Hair the TV the Baby & the Band reveals its catchiness gradually.

Scatterbrained as Can I Keep This Pen? is, it would have fit perfectly in the catalog of the deceased Grand Royal, but somehow seems appropriate landing in Ipecac's strange and wonderfully eclectic lap.

Whether or not you prefer the rowdier version of Harper and his band, it is inarguable that this recording is a concentrated effort coming down on the side of a couple of musical notions that weave together artfully and meaningfully.

Attaching the Black Francis moniker to this album might ratchet up expectations too high for rabid Pixies fans, but Bluefinger is a good Charles Thompson album--it's still really enjoyable to hear him have fun and rock out, no matter what name he chooses to use.

I'll Follow You is a record that shows off the diversity of Oakley Hall's palette, country and folk and rock, equally important and equally imposed, and because of this, something worth listening to.

It's a bleak album to be sure, undoubtedly inspired by the downtrodden national mood of the times in which it was recorded. Ann's voice is strong and convincing on these tunes, largely drawn from the '60s and '70s with a few exceptions.

Natural is a quiet but disconcerting snapshot of a world of chaos, which is to say it depicts a world not so different than the one that saw the birth of the Mekons in 1977, and confirms their message has remained constant even when their musical approach has not.