The acronym that forms the title of their latest stands for "The Energy Never Dies," and they more than make good on that promise, blasting through 15 high-powered rave-rap jams that rarely lack for melodic hooks or rhythmic thrust.

On this fine self-titled set (produced, as was the most recent 97's album, by Dallas-based Salim Nourallah) Miller works his familiar mixture of '60s-pop jangle and alt-country twang, singing about the highs and lows of love like someone who just experienced them for the first time.

Todd Snider relates his hilariously heartbreaking hard-luck tales with a deadpan sing-speak delivery while superproducer Don Was gives the scrappy bar-band arrangements a glimmer of studio-pro warmth.

Jhelli Beam finds this prominent member of the West Coast underground hip-hop coalition Project Blowed challenging his unique flow and uncanny wordplay at every roundabout turn, rhyming against a tsunami of samples crafted by such L.A.-based production wizards as Daedelus and Nobody, among others.

As on many valiant attempts by electronic artists to cross over, there's too much going on. But Cope succeeds in creating an overall sense of unrest and some moments of electro-transcendence.

Co-produced by Andy Johns (Van Halen), the set captures the fun energy of a mind-blowing all-star jam: Satriani's fretwork is surprisingly raw, loose and gritty, while Smith channels John Bonham more than once.

Pop's understated delivery draws even the most skeptical of listeners in, bathing his hushed voice in beds of stark piano and tremolo-washed guitar.

Burnett's settings are much more stripped-down than his work on Robert Plant & Alison Krauss' "Raising Sand" but no less precise: 'My All Time Doll,' one of the strongest cuts, Jeff Taylor's accordion shades the desperation in Costello's lyric with just the right amount of sarcasm.

This eulogy is a celebration, and Big Whiskey is a dense, humid album that, befitting its New Orleans origins, shrewdly cuts its melancholy with exuberance and vice versa.

The group may still rely on catchy vocal refrains, but the growth of Lazzara's songwriting has made its fourth effort a brisk, enjoyable outing.

Seven albums in, not much has changed for Rancid, and that's a good thing.

Lofty comparisons, sure. But Bingham's not a "new" anything: He's his own man, and a singular talent at that.

At times, there's a lack of consistency with too many ideas thrown onto the table, but it's that diversity heard throughout Nutini's sophomore effort that gives this AC singer/songwriter a leg up.

All three discs come together with fun, scrapbook-like packaging to pull off that rare reissue home run--when a boxed set functions as a perfect introduction for newcomers and a worthy addition to any devotee's collection.

The Brooklyn quartet Grizzly Bear has earned a reputation for dense sonic buildups and gorgeous harmonies, and the group's third album "Veckatimest" excels on both accounts.

The group has polished its '60s-rock-revivalist sound to near perfection, but keeps expanding its aural palette, experimenting with layered rhythms and sonic textures.

The performances are so strong throughout that one can only pray this collaboration turns out to be more than a dalliance.

English songbird Polly Scattergood entrances, disturbs and impresses with her debut self-titled album.

Now in his 30s, he doesn't surf the beat so much as box with it, with both brutality and no small degree of grace. That a rapper of this much verbal gymnastic ability is still making Perez Hilton cracks is too bad, but the bigger problem is that Eminem's recipe of gore and gay jokes sounds like the past.

White Rabbits recruited Spoon frontman Britt Daniel to produce It's Frightening, an appealingly audacious move that reveals just how tightly these guys define their sound. That self-awareness is apparent in the band's music as well--nothing seems out of place in these tidily arranged soul-punk tunes, most of which revolve around piano and bass rather than guitar.

Manners, the debut album from the Boston-based electro-pop outfit Passion Pit, is a charming combination of danceable synth grooves, falsetto shouts and infectious vocal hooks.

Her 12th studio release, Abnormally Attracted to Sin, finds her in full command of her expanded arsenal, creating an overall sound that's as psychedelic as it is classic.

Although this two-CD manifesto isn't completely immune to the current bar-lowering--disc one is heavy on wispy, lo-fi throwaways (one exception: an intimate acoustic version of the Flaming Lips' "Waitin' for a Superman")--there's more wheat than chaff.

This second solo album is so strong that a listening moves from why to why-not territory rather quickly.

This dynamic duo comes off as vital as it has in a decade on the highly anticipated sequel to the pair's 1999 collaborative debut, "Blackout!"

What there is not quite enough of is Rhymes himself--the deft MC is a bit crowded out by collaborators' mic turns and auto-tuned refrains.

Thanks to Richie's confidently grown-up vocals and his consistently mature subject matter--here's a guy whose romantic timeline stretches past tonight to 'Forever and a Day,' as one track puts it--Just Go never sounds calculated or desperate.

Beyond merely blowing with avant-tinged, Coltrane-inspired tenor gusto, Lovano employs multiple strategies on several reeds, setting up melodic motifs, rhythmic start-and-stop phrases and playful dance-like romps.