Splash's bratty Lil Wayne-meets-Michael Henderson falsetto can wear thin across 66 sprawling minutes (the crew would benefit from a second lead voice), but something far more problematic would have to be in play to impair this stomping good time.

Exit Strategy of the Soul isn't just an experiment that succeeds, it's one of Sexsmith's strongest and most affecting works to date, and it's truly a pleasure to hear.

As with most endeavors in uncharted territory, some songs miss the mark (an unnecessary ambient keyboard instrumental "Flush," for instance), but the straightforward beasts like "Billy Fish," "The Smiling Cobra," and the majestic title song "Nude with Boots" showcase the Melvins at the top of their game, while the lumbering brutality of "It Tastes Better Than the Truth" and "The Savage Hippy" shows that their warped sensibilities are still intact and that they're far from softening, even after almost 25 years in the game.

Despite its faults, it is one of the most unique albums released by a major label in 2008.

Musically, Mellencamp seems to have been listening closely to the first five Bob Dylan albums, paying more attention to the first of them, the largely traditional, folk-blues-styled Bob Dylan, than the last, the folk-rock "Bringing It All Back Home."

Dismantle, reconstruct, then split, and The Greatest Story Ever Told earns decent marks--it's just hard not to focus on the handful of cuts that point to what could have been.

Though a few songs border on being filler, The Black Ghosts is still a promising debut.

The sound effects that link the songs and clumsy tape edits seem a tad forced,and some of the titles and lyrical themes seem recycled from We All Belong. That being said, Fate is still a thoroughly enjoyable album from a fine band.

While Breakout isn't as much of a breakthrough as it could be, it still moves Miley closer to an identity and career outside of Hannah.

By letting all of his sides surface here, Springfield winds up with a satisfying album, as it gets to his sober nature without abandoning his fizzy gifts.

Something for All of Us... manages to connect without really saying much, which is tough to pull off, even for a veteran of one of the underground rock league's most beloved teams.

This collection of their singles released between March and September 2007 (plus three harder-to-find tracks) is an entrancing introduction to the band, and it stokes the fires of anticipation for their first full-length album.

Fasciinatiion clicks enough of the time to make it a step forward from "Wet From Birth," and despite its unevenness, at times it can be fasciinatiing.

The fact that the music does feel relaxed, even when it bears his classicist affectations, does make Conor Oberst markedly different than the music of Bright Eyes, and makes it a worthwhile project--even if it proves to be a detour instead of a new beginning.

Fans of System's earlier work will be used to their unique brand of lyricism by now and will be more impressed with the band's ability to make a solid assortment of songs in a toned-down genre. Even with half the members.

Girls and Weather loses neither steam nor charm throughout; it's an album for adults who want an excuse to behave like kids again.

It's a hook to beat all hooks in the middle of a desolate recording: a desolate recording that demands several listens to truly penetrate but has worthwhile payoffs subtly placed throughout.

With Brazilian Girls' sense of wonder and love of musical globe-trotting as strong as ever, New York City is a welcome return to form for this very special group.

Peaceful, The World Lays Me Down could have been all kinds of terrible but instead turns out to be an album that fans of the bands mentioned earlier, plus fans of intelligent and heart-felt indie pop, should probably investigate.

Cajun Dance Party aren't doing anything too unique or special here, but they do what they do with conviction and guts--and that's enough to make this a very good debut.

The best moments of ...Earth to the Dandy Warhols... rival the Dandys' finest work, and despite some weak spots, it's a giant leap in the right direction.

End Titles...Stories for Film wears the signs of its creation poorly, unlike the quite-good odds'n'sods collection "More Stories," which despite its high quality was released only in Australia.

Listeners will have to wait and see on that score, whether she grows up and calms down or if age only sharpens her rage, but for all her all-too-human flaws, with a set of songs this strong, it's safe to say her time has already arrived.

His enigmatic lyrics, pastoral West coast melodies, and blissfully androgynous voice rule the roost here.

Add the "Jam on It" sample producer Nottz lays on "Ya Heard," the sultry backing track Scott Storch designed for "Let Us Live," and a superstar guest list that's a mile long, and this scattershot album is easy to recommend despite its flaws.

At times, Intimacy feels rushed and predictable, and at others, it's almost painfully ambitious.

The crisp, unadorned production--courtesy of Matthew himself, who recorded and mixed this in his home studio--keeps the focus on his brilliant pop hooks, which shine brighter and cleaner here than they have in quite some time.

The bombastic intro and interludes with Keith David could go too, but otherwise this no-answers, gritty ego trip will satisfy his fans while pushing everyone else away even further.

The Brooklyn boys maintain their hipster sensibilities and flip between speedy grit and sweetheart pop, with varied results.

The Rocky Road is well worthy of being mentioned alongside classic albums by the Dubliners and Planxty, and that's as big a compliment as it could be paid.

You keep wishing something would spread the information across a broader landscape so you can more readily take it all in. But then again, maybe the chemically enhanced listener will be better prepared to absorb all the color Shall Noise Upon enthusiastically radiates.

The ex-Noise Ratchet founders shift to more rootsy territory with their new band, yielding impressive results.

Andersson brings a real sense of songcraft to the project, and many of her melodies are appealingly ethereal.

Stand Ins glows a little less bright than its' predecessor, but it shines nonetheless.

Motorizer falls short of essential and isn't quite in a class with Motorhead's best late-'70s/early-'80s output, but this album is definitely respectable.

There are a few additional moments of greatness, but also a few more tracks on the opposite side--they may make for great background listening, but seem to require altered states to get through while focusing on the music.

This is ultimately an album that is catnip to those favoring a general sound and approach and otherwise will pass the time for most anyone else--no bad thing, yet nothing remarkable either.

Living on the Other Side is uncalculated and unassuming its delivery, evoking an earlier era without dressing the band in Glenn Frey's castoff threads from the Desperado cover shoot. It's also incredibly tuneful, which makes the Donkeys' second effort an enjoyable summer album.

Like many big-sounding albums, Only by the Night is a polarizing piece of work, one that targets new fans at the expense of those who wish Kings of Leon had never shaved their beards or discovered post-'70s rock.

the two carve up each track like master craftsman, finding the perfect middle ground between the sparse, reverb-laden landscapes of the Great Lake Swimmers and the orchestral, aching beauty of Hem.

She's not above revisiting periods where the creative process of collaboration was symbiotic as well as successful.

The McGregors are ultimately at their best when their dynamic isn't overpowered by too many musical ideas.

This album isn't going to win Halstead too much favor critically or commercially, but anyone who holds songcraft, emotional restraint, and melodic grace in high regard should give the peaceful and sincere Oh! Mighty Engine a chance.

Big Bad World is a tidy, enjoyable release, and the Plain White T's deserve points for remaining grounded after a meteoric year.

Snowflake Midnight works as a soothing, gently inspiring song cycle, the likes of which Mercury Rev hasn't made since "See You on the Other Side."

Not that Tennessee Pusher is a huge fall off from "Big Iron World," it's just not a great leap forward and upward, although there are plenty of striking tracks.

Getting back on track, DJ Khaled's We Global corrects all the mistakes made on his disappointing sophomore effort "We the Best" and gets back to the high-quality control of his debut "Listennn: The Album."

There is a sense of urgency and a new dimension of self-reflection not touched upon throughout the holding pattern that was "T.I. vs T.I.P."

Murs was obviously ready to put his best foot forward--and yes, Murs for President is just as ambitious as the title indicates.

Ode isn't quite as strong song-wise as "The Boy" but it makes up for the difference with its deepened palette--again, this palette may not be as rich as some of their peers, but compared to Travis' other work of the past decade, this is richer and livelier as sheer sonics go.

No one tunes in to hear Yo Majesty wax on a provocative level, and they're wise to this. Dancefloor fun is the cornerstone of the record, and the primary lesson to be learned is that there's nothing wrong with grindin' and shakin'.

Such Fun might fill that space over the fireplace, but it doesn't really pull the room together.

Journey to the West is perhaps best experienced on-stage, as it was meant to be heard in tandem with Chen Shi-Zheng and Hewlett's visuals, but heard as its own work, it's hard not to admire, if not exactly embrace, Albarn's achievement here, as his work is not only ambitious, it is serious and understated, the work of a true composer.

The sound of three people ripping through hooky tunes without regard for pleasantries and taste is one of the joys of rock & roll, and Vivian Girls do satisfy on that account.

Both 'Stone in My Hand' and 'Weakness' are redemption anthems that will satisfy sinners looking to be saints. They are the target audience and--along with the Everlast faithful--the ones who will find this heavy, rap-free album rich and rewarding instead of desolate and ponderous.

Not Animal gets better as it progresses--the sparser, melancholic songs are pushed to the front, leaving the band's energetic material to bring up the rear--and Margot's sophomore album subsequently concludes on a high note, effectively masking any sour taste left by the band's battle with Epic Records.

Here with Me is a cozy and wholly comfortable album, one that begs to be played during rainy days and Sunday afternoons.

All the Way isn't Growing's best or most essential release, but it's a likable outing and should have no problem appealing to the New Yorkers' hardcore followers.

This is a graceful set, lit with pretty melodies, subtle instrumentation, and lovely singing from both bandmembers. As introductions go, it's a charmer.

by Tony Brown, Call Me Crazy underscores his greatest strength: getting the essence of a vocalist across in a mix; but also his greatest weakness: the seeming inability to leave a musical backdrop until it's cluttered to death.

While the rewards are there, the hooks are few and far between, resulting in the kind of overly personal transitory album that can either lay the seeds for a full-blown masterpiece, or render the garden infertile.

From a musical standpoint, Damn Right, Rebel Proud is every bit as solid as "Straight to Hell;"...But lyrically, too much of the time all Hank has to tell us is he's messed up and ready to rearrange some faces.

More often than not, though, Flashy is lots of cleverly dumb fun.

Hope for the Hopeless works more than it doesn't, and when it really clicks here, which is often enough, Dennen shows himself to be a unique voice and talent.

It's a typical "kitchen sink" EP, stocked with enough stabs at bawdy blue rave-ups ('Shake That Devil'), oddball narratives ('Hope Mountain'), and plaintive reveries ('Crackagen' and 'Sing for Me') to tide fans over until the headliner arrives.

Funhouse is a ride, empowered by her post-divorce freedom. In a way, that does make Funhouse unique among divorce albums, as it's the first to concentrate on liberation rather than loss--but if she was going to go in this direction, Pink may have been better off not pretending that she's bothered by the breakup.

The playing is tighter and more polished, but they haven't lost any of their manic energy, and in fact this outing is, if anything, even more energetic than "Head Home."

Fueled by heavy dance tracks and popping electronic beats, The Fame, the first album by the glamorous Lady Gaga, is a well-crafted sampling of feisty anti-pop in high quality.

Their light touch and unfailing ability to deliver un-telegraphed emotional punches on Life Like make the album a strong addition to the Rosebuds already impressive catalog.

Marc Bianchi has, at least for now, chucked his dour Stephin Merritt leanings and adopted a more Nick Lowe-like free-spirited confidence and the whole thing sounds, if not exactly cathartic, at least liberating.

If you give Who Killed Harry Houdini? a serious listen and can get past the initial surprise and mild disappointment, the quiet beauty of the songs, the tender performances, and the beaten down but not broken soul of Emanuel Lundgren are enough to break your heart.

There were some signs prior to this 2008 archival release that this particular gig was pretty good--some of the cuts surfaced on the posthumous live 1999 comp "From Here to Eternity" and the video to 'Should I Stay or Should I Go' came from this gig--but all the decades of disastrous myths help turn Live at Shea Stadium into a pleasant surprise.

Joseph Raglani's brief but quite enjoyable five-song effort isn't some sudden new stroke of artistic genius--instead it aims to hit certain strong points and does so well enough that his future work will be worth investigating.

These ventures into pure '80s shred go a long way to illustrating just how versatile a guitarist Brad Paisley is, and they wind up as accidental autobiography, revealing a side he's previously camouflaged--but now that it's surfaced, it's easy to see why his albums are always among the most adventurous and best country music of this decade.

In its own way, the Wild Beasts' volatile flamboyance is more difficult to embrace than an overtly dissonant experimental band's music, but that's just another way that this group sets itself apart from the rest of the pack--and there's something very liberating about that, even if it's baffling at times.

Like a garish version of his label boss Akon, he's a singer/songwriter/producer who doesn't evolve much over this avalanche of releases and guest shots, but Thr33 Ringz proves he's much more aware of his limitations.

Galore the band isn't as distinctive as its influences, and many of the album's songs are so polished and streamlined that there's little chance for Dragonette's personality to shine through. However, their more adventurous side surfaces on the album's second half.

They give the old noise pop formula enough of a kick to make this a very worthwhile addition to any noise pop fan's collection.

An ambitious exercise of restraint, it's a lumbering beast that's minimal but still feels expansive. Epic, even.

Berlin was a work of tremendous ambition that didn't quite live up to its own high standards, and this live recording seems to trade a roughly equal number of new flaws for those of the original album, but this performance sounds like a legitimate attempt by Reed to revisit his past without being shackled to it, and on that level it's a brave and compelling experiment that (often) works.

David Cook [is] remarkably similar to the debut of his AmIdol forefather, DAUGHTRY, but where Chris Daughtry wallows in his stylized amorphous angst, Cook is a friendly puppy dog, eager to please.

What he isn't, however, is an album-oriented artist, and that's clear on Startin' Fires, his fifth studio release. There's a little bit of everything here, and that's part of the problem.

At its strongest, with songs like the archly titled 'Regal Regalia' and 'Papering Fix,' the band kicks up a huge sounding storm while still providing space for the almost preternaturally clean singing boring through the mix--not as an artificially high volume element, more like serenity in the midst of a storm.

Amon Amarth sticks closely to the same sound and approach that got them this far in the first place.

The Door is a beautifully mysterious and deeply satisfying entry in the ECM canon and a very auspicious debut.

Women may not be easy listening, but it is rewarding listening.

While his previous effort, 2006's "Release Therapy," was much more the thematically tight album and deserved a concept, this loose set of tunes is all-together more entertaining, thanks in no small part to a highly inspired Luda and all the punch lines he lands.

None of this is major but it is enjoyable, worthwhile for the devoted--and it's nice they can get it separately instead of plunking down cash yet again for a deluxe edition.

Surfing definitely won't end up on many end-of-year lists, but it's easygoing where "Smokey Rolls Down Thunder Canyon" was often self-serious, and overall a pleasant diversion for Banhart fans.

Human is nothing if not a serious album, not to mention the least enjoyable release in Brandy's catalog. But it could very well be her most useful one.

Here, the pre-recorded sequences of fan favorites "DVNO," "Tthhee Ppaarrttyy," and "D.A.N.C.E." are born again; flipped and redecorated with aggressive house beats to the point that they feel fresh, but they still retain enough familiarity to get fists pumping and mouths singing along.

It's business as unusual and for the BMSR, their business has always been making challenging, inventive. and above all, hilariously fun, music. Fucked Up Friends represents no change in the status quo whatsoever.

In that regard, this self-titled effort is often a tribute rather than a new way forward, but Reinhardt's work is nonetheless very enjoyable, a way to regather these various strands from any number of limiting genre associations and reuse them in a new fashion.

A couple dramatic moments don't quite take full flight, and a handful of tracks are tepid and unmemorable, but OnMyRadio is mostly another set of sturdily constructed laid-back R&B.

Teaming up with some fresh collaborators seems to have done Pollard a world of good after recording the bulk of his post-GBV work with Todd Tobias handling all the instruments; Moen and Slusarenko don't bring a striking level of chops to Brown Submarine, Boston Spaceships' debut album, but their work has an organic feel and a natural energy that helps these sessions sound like the work of a real band.

Dirt Don't Hurt isn't necessarily magical, but it is fun and breezy, as well as a nice addition to Golightly's impressive catalog.

There's every chance that Laura Marling will get lost in the shuffle as the unexpected commercial success of Feist's The Reminder leads major labels to unleash hordes of similarly talented female singer/songwriters, but Alas I Cannot Swim is far better than the average coffee house-endorsed girly pop.

It's often catchy and kinetic in the moment, yet it still feels like Franz Ferdinand has the potential to do more with their music than just slightly tweak and polish a sound they established several albums ago.