Janet Weiss adds welcome flavor on drums and vocals, but overall, how much you enjoy rummaging through this Trash will probably depend on the amount of patience you have for the Malkmus' indulgences.

Saturnalia, is teeming with the kind of raw and gritty music one might expect to hear kicked around in, well, the gutter. And considering the project is a collaboration between Mark Lanegan and Greg Dulli, that's certainly not a bad thing.

At times it feels like a lot is going on, others not so much. The pieces are all there, but it just doesn't add up to more than the sum of its parts.

Born Ruffians are in the business of kicking out jumpy live-band power-pop jams far more concerned with melodic zing than textural depth.

Warpaint mines the same Allmans-to-Zappa synthesis of influences that's been the Crowes' stock in trade but finds the group fortified by sharp songwriting and lace-tight, live-sounding performances.

Asking for Flowers is filled with literate and provocative lyricism, vivid characters and cinematically engaging scenarios.

With accompaniment as varied as vocals from Ollabelle and Brazilian percussion from Mauro Refosco, White still keeps us off balance with rich, unpredictable textures ("Diamonds to Coal") that convey lost-in-the-backwoods disorientation ("Counting Numbers in the Air").

Seventh Tree is as deliciously subversive, and in some cases more so, as the duo's past work.

Curtis Mayfield would be proud of both lyrics and her throwback sound.

Her first mainstream country album in years is an important reminder of the breadth of her singing and songwriting talents.

Merritt isn't one of alt-country's most distinctive vocalists; her singing here is wide open and affectless, occasionally to the point of near-anonymity. But instead of making the tunes on Another Country seem forgettable, that quality actually ends up inviting you into the material

Rock's in a comfort zone on his first album in four years, a solid effort that makes up with work ethic and historical good will what it lacks in door-blowing moments.

The album may consign the Raveonettes further to cult-level status, but like a challenging mate, it seduces us into coming back for more.

Pretty much all John Darnielle's songs sound the same, but that sameness affords a remarkable consistency.

Its debut U.S. set showcases its accessible modern rock and frontman Paul Noonan's ambitious lyrics.

Cox followed his muse and ran with it, and what resulted is a collection of music that's as intriguing as its creator.

The net result is smart, personal and potent.

It may be his poppiest and slickest work to date, but Golden Delicious is more proof that Mike Doughty still knows where to make the melodies twist and turn to find the sweet spot among the ridiculous, the sublime and the sad.

Hiccups aside, there's something really brave and thoroughly punk rock about hearing her tackle Ma Rainey's 'Daddy Goodbye Blues.'

Morcheeba returns with Dive Deep, a gorgeous collection of folk- and blues-inflected electro-pop ballads.

Early on frontman Yan (Scott Wilkinson) wishes us, "Welcome for a day--or stay forever," and if you do like rock music, you'll likely choose the latter.

Simple Plan is a shameless little heatseeker, which isn't much of a musical problem. Provided you're after a good time, several cuts make excellent use of keyboard bleeps and drum-machine beats.

Free Somehow, which marks the debut of new-ish guitarist Jimmy Herring, is no less of a tease, boasting three or four memorable songs (none mightier than 'Airplane') and the rest serviceable filler.

This is the same pop-wise Hot Chip, only wilier and with a more dastardly sonic arsenal.

The roots-rock of Detours is old-school-sounding Crow now with a heightened consciousness of the world around her.

Lucky is full of jangly little gems that could put a skip in the step of even the saddest of sacks.

Watershed, k.d. lang's new torch-and-twang exploration, will hover delicately in the background of many a coffee shop, but it does little to elevate itself to a more conscious musical experience.

Saying that Jack Johnson's fourth record is languid and breezy is a little like saying the Cubs probably won't win it all this year, but Sleep Through the Static takes Johnson's über-chill, barefoot-in-a-hammock vibe to new heights--or mediums, depending on how you look at such things.