A little more subdued than the songs on its firecracker debut, Make Out?, yes, but hardly lacking brains or bite.

The band parlays its tuneful edification into an experimental collage, bouncing between art school rock, guitar-heavy psychedelia and keyboard hippiedom, yet interconnected by lyrics that are both shrewd and satisfying.

While previous releases have found the pride of North Mississippi exploring various manifestations of their musical identity, on Electric Blue Watermelon they pull everything together and bring their artistic progression full circle.

Some of their best work in nearly two decades.

Late Registration can't replicate the novelty of last year's College Dropout, but otherwise, this is an impressively more mature and labored-over album.

The Outsider may be a cut below its predecessor, the artistic, critical, and commercial breakthrough that was Fate's Right Hand--perhaps the element of surprise is gone, perhaps the songs aren't quite as sharp, perhaps it's just not possible to catch lightning in a bottle twice in a row--but that was a tough act to follow, and this one's none too shabby.

Fans of albums such as 2001’s From Chaos and 2003’s promising Evolver will likely find Tread familiar and perhaps even comforting, but it’s unlikely to invite a new horde of fans as the album often sounds like an imitation of the bands 311 helped inspire in its decade-plus career.

The acoustic guitars have largely been set aside on Chapter V, leaving Staind to pummel away at its troubles and hoping that people still have time to listen to self-pitying grown men moan about their dysfunctional childhoods.

Even when he turns down the volume, he never tones down the creative intensity.

Why Should the Fire Die? is certainly the trio's boldest and most creative album, albeit one that might not appeal to their earliest fans.

For a woman who once used lyrics to shock listeners, there's nothing terribly shocking about this new CD.

Fortunately, producer Steve Lillywhite is on hand to clean things up, giving even the most bumbling lyrical experiments, such as "Wordplay" and "Geek in the Pink," at least the illusion of a newfound maturity.

If there's one thing the R&B phenomenon demonstrates on Grown & Sexy, is that growing up is sexy.

A few songs are experiments that should have stayed in the studio; "Left-Handed Dub" is dreadful and the remixes by Flowchart and Two Lone Swordsmen are a bit dated--too ‘90s-sounding. But that's still only one tenth of the album, the rest of which is a pleasure.

[The] consistent quality belies any notion of the extraneous.

Brit-leaning space-pop that switches rhythmic gears with pleasing regularity from dreamy to driving.

The time apart has made the Posies come back fiercer, louder and heavier.

Somewhere Down in Texas could have benefited from the addition of an irresistible rhythm tune or another example of the western swing that Strait embraced so fervently early in his career.

His richest and most consistently satisfying release since the late '80s.

The result is an CD that sounds like it's aspiring to be something far more ambitious: a DVD, a theatrical production, even a time machine.

Another Day on Earth is a more personal album from the ambient avatar, a recording of rare and meticulous maturity.

No one can breath breezy, sun-splashed melodies into three-minute fits of aggravation and despair quite like songwriting maestro Joe Pernice.

While the material seems to document the end of a relationship and the hope for romantic renewal, there's a freewheeling playfulness to the arrangements.

Out of Nothing is a truly exceptional album.

Not since the days of The Tom Tom Club, Bananarama, and "Lucky Star"-era Madonna, has dance-pop been this fun, this bouncy, this unabashedly optimistic.

Get Behind Me Satan is the strangest and least focused effort by these unlikely garage rock superstars to date. It's also their finest, an Exile on Main Street-ish mish-mash where the sum is greater than the parts.

Minimum-Maximum is essentially a greatest-hits album with an audience applauding and occasionally shouting.

Shakira's bleating, biting voice is in fine form, and it gives the material an electric urgency.