Blunderbuss is good, damn good, and its' few missteps unthinking.

A breezy, but challenging mix of pop and folk rock songs.

Those two bumps aside ["Cruel Intentions" and "I Should Have Stayed in Bed"], it's overall a solid album from a band that's honestly been missed.

With nearly each track including a mesmerizing hook or chorus that slowly permeates your subconscious - "Clone" and "Breathing Underwater" leap out from the pack in this regard - Synthetica is a solid album.

It's nearly impossible for Hiatt to put out a bad record. You may not love every song, but there's bound to be a few on there to make the album well worth the price you paid.

Pop elements ensure that Musostics works pleasantly enough as background music, but it is also complicated enough to reward more concentrated listening.

The production may be a little cleaner, but the same knack for great fuzzed-out ditties is still there... a pretty good album.

No One Knows is a subtle album, one that requires time and patience to allow its hooks to sink in.

May seems destined for stardom, and given these compelling performances, she'll likely attain that stature soon.

By definition, they're not as classic as his first three albums but because of the amazing guitar plus the soulful grooves and songwriting (and thankfully no overdubbing), there's still some good quality material found here for fans and even some agnostics.

Scholarly stuff this, but also an intriguing reinvention that makes this an ideal marriage of folk and finesse.

Out of View already channels a good bit of chaos in with its summer afternoon melodies, now after only a couple of years of experimentation.

Strapped is a marked maturation from their San Diego start five years ago.

All this adds to a gentle atmosphere of regret, of unhurried contemplation of things and people who are no longer around us.

With the ambitious Miracle Temple , Mount Moriah puts its own powerful stamp on a music that's faithkeeping in more than one sense.

She's taken a more reflective direction that emphasizes tenderness over tenacity and subtlety above sizzle.

This music is big enough for a hall, but soft and heartfelt enough for the quietest corner.

It could easily pass for one of the group's previous efforts. Anyone familiar with the Weakerthans' catalog will realize immediately that's a good thing.

This is a case wherein open minds--and some patience--are likely to be rewarded.

So its songs aren't exactly of the hum-along variety. No matter. There's no denying Sun Kil Moon's luminous glow.

The album is not a total departure from previous work, and their admirers will be elated at this crackerjack effort and the opportunity to live music the Strange Boys way once again.

The band seem as if they're still evolving and putting new ideas into play without a definitive idea of where they're heading. No worries though; Delta Spirit's spirited impulses are clearly capable of determining any new direction.

With Eno at the controls, the Turbo Fruits straighten up, fly right and in the process bash out their most enjoyable work to date.

Their latest, Signed and Sealed in Blood, will likely not change many opinions as it is still their same hallmark of rowdy, drink in the air, boot stomping sing-alongs.

Jukebox the Ghost proudly wear its pop influences on their sleeves and quite frankly don't care whether you like those influences or not.

Throughout this very odd but engaging album, she manages to slip and slide over the exposed guts of the blues without contradicting her clean, punctual, precise arrangements.

Some listeners might run screaming but the band's tenacity is admirable, which keeps it exciting.

Points in a direction that he'd almost certainly be wise to follow on future projects.

It's about evenly balanced between original material and covers that show Willner's and Faithfull's deep-catalog knowledge of pop music.

Ersatz G.B. is a lesser Fall album, not as good as Your Future Our Clutter or The Real New Fall LP, and certainly not on a par with earlier landmarks like Slates and Hex Induction Hour.... Even so... there's enough fire and venom here to excuse occasional soft spots.

As its title suggests, Use Me offers a lesson in how to stay true to one's muse.

Whatever the fuel, the songsmith has created sterling and a wonderfully adventurous record that is quite possibly his best since 1995's 100% Fun.

The heart- wrenching emotion is credible and convincing, even though the uneasy undercurrents find Green's brand of the blues seem somewhat tenuous at times. Nevertheless, at this point in the trajectory, City & Colour manages to provide a pleasing musical melange.

Ultimately, Old Mad Joy may not signal the breakthrough that this outfit deserves, but by rekindling the savvy sound techniques that have taken them this far, hopefully the rest of the world will catch up soon enough.

As Yes is now in its sixth decade, the prog rock band shows on Fly From Here that it can still make music that is fresh and lively.

Marr has become a more assured singer, which is one of several ways this album improves on Boomslang.

Any adventurous soul with both Drake and Sun Ra back to back on his or her iPod will most certainly be able to get down with this truly unique hip-hop experience.

Shimmering and ethereal, A Church That Fits Our Needs finds the band as ambitious as ever.

Sweet Heart's melancholy tunes are still grand, their orchestras soaring and their choruses rousing, even Phil Spector-orian in the epic kink, but they're more tightly wound than on previous efforts.

It may seem a somewhat unassuming entry, but regardless, We Love Our Country creates a favorable first impression.

Fortunately, the band that helped establish the early indie ethos remains as odd and unrepentant as ever.

If you dig big choruses, the sound of a heart breaking and just the right amount of sweat on your brow, then Like a Fire That Consumes All Before It is for you.

John Hiatt has now released over one third of his career recordings since the year 2000, and seems likely to continue to make good music for some time to come.

You're Nothing is an album full of power--power which makes you think and react viscerally.

The entire affair is more open, relaxed and loose than he's ever been on record, qualities that appear easily and readily during his live shows.

The pair keeps the door unlocked for the curious, but doesn’t put out tea and cakes in welcome, either.

Form & Control exhibits a duality that splits the difference in the disparity of the Clap's soulful psych-pop/dance club fusion.

"Old Ash" and "Silver Self" bring to mind Paul Simon's Graceland, each song incorporating that same infectious shuffle and giddy exuberance that made Simon's world rhythms so compelling. And yet, that makes Beware and Be Grateful all the more confounding, given that some of their melodies seem on the verge of a disconnect.

Though the songs can come off as occasionally sterile (“On A Day” quickly comes to mind), it’s still a pretty impressive collection of songs from a band that’s only been around for a few years.

Fossils remains uniformly subdued throughout. Yet, it’s hardly as dry as the album title might imply.

The band’s latest evolution is bound to shed some fans of the old lineup, but the music here is interesting enough to attract some new listeners as well.

It takes a certain like-minded political sensibility to wholly appreciate both the music and the mantra, but rebels in search of a cause will likely share sympathy for Morello's fervent muse.

The mix of blues, with their standard, folk and country is a nice addition, but may not be enough to win over folks who aren’t already Son Volt devotees.

With a reflective outlook worthy of Bragg’s now venerable stature, this weathered perspective serves him well.

While some songs are utterly slow paced, they are obscured by the strength of the aforementioned tracks as well as “The Fall” and “Last Dance.”

Among the Grey is still mired in... well... several shades of gray, so that when certain songs dissipate as a casual drift, it becomes all the more difficult to glean a more emphatic impression.

Though the sound is stripped down--limited mainly to voice, guitar and unusual atmospherics--the effect is also fairly frenzied and typically creepy as well.

Since only 42 seconds of the album is new material (the opening self titled track), it can, at times, feel redundant, almost unnecessary, but, with a musician of Claypool’s caliber, to see boundaries being pushed--and classics revisited--there is obvious value here. And, at the very least, it’s a hell of a lot of fun.

These nine songs are dusty and determined, stoic ruminations on hard luck and happenstance.

Dawson’s agility is remarkable to say the least, and despite the lack of additional embellishment, the music comes across as rich and riveting.

With heart on his sleeve, Wagner opts for sobriety, but when those strings swell, the effect can be intoxicating.

While Burdon himself remains indignant, and indomitable, his tenacious stance is coached in songs that rarely measure up to the classics credited to him early on.

On their fourth album in a decade, the Donkeys don’t have surprises so much as a more confident and accomplished execution.

Consider this music a salve for the soul--restful, resigned, pretty and pensive... and yet as fragile as it is fleeting.

What might have been a great album merely becomes a good one, due to fact that much needed variation is in such short supply.

Though Thompson remains in the same contemplative state lyrically, In the Pit of the Stomach is a great follow up to Walls and unveils an orchestral maturity form the four gents.

Big Star was more than the sum of its parts, and as evidenced here, Chilton was only just beginning to mine his.

Seeing this is Grossi's first full-length, it's an achievement, and although it fizzles out near the end, the killer tracks far eclipse the lesser numbers.

There are certainly times when a bit more instrumentation (a cello, some percolating percussion, a lyrical guitar solo) would have enhanced the presentation.

There’s a cover of Billy Joe Shaver’s “Georgia on a Fast Train” tacked onto the record (only available on the limited edition CD and LP) that doesn’t quite do justice to the classic, but there are still more than enough bar room sing-alongs on Holdin’ the Bag to make the album worth it.

Lumineers is an album that successfully weaves a homespun, roots-folk feel with poetic prowess.

It’s that free-flowing vibe that helps make this seem more like an overdue reunion for the home town crowd as much as any attempt at a polished performance.

There are a couple of stumbles here, like on the somber “Easy Love,” but for the most part, Late Riser is crammed with stunning songs strong enough to make you forget what else is going on in the world--at least for 30 minutes or so.

The results come off like the soundtrack to an imaginary video game, one where environmental exploration is more important than staying on task.

Downcast, tasteful and frequently quite beautiful, Depersonalization borrows from sonics generated three decades ago, but with a lack of self-consciousness that makes it all sound fresh and new.

There are worse ways to pass 45 minutes than to listen to music so amiable as this, but Neil Finn has done--and one hopes will again do--much better.

Quieter and striking a more somber tone than their Grammy-nominated first record, it sounds as if the band went out of its way to tone down the catchiness of their initial offering. But the softer focus put the lyrics front and center and that’s, in part, what separates The Lumineers from the slew of bands that came after trying to replicate the success of “Ho Hey”.

On record, Teen Men come across as your average, edgy modern pop combo, all shimmery, engaging songs with few constraints and even fewer darker designs.

It’s doubtful anyone will stroll about humming these tunes, but so too, it wouldn’t be at all surprising to find there’s something about them that’s all but impossible to shake.

Corb Lund, the former Canadian punk rocker turned roots country singer, is back with his eighth record and has settled into a comfortable, stripped down grove with a little lap steel thrown in for good measure.

No matter how synthetic and mechanical things get, the stain of cosmic psychedelia never completely fades.

Skying proves a maturing for the band and unveils a new realm of sonic possibilities.

Underrated Silence is never less than pretty, and often strikingly so, yet it lacks the grit that might make these compositions emotionally involving.

It’s all quite pleasant, nicely played and sung and recorded, but perhaps a little distant. These tunes flow by like sunny afternoons and when they’re done you can’t remember much.

Some tracks prize vibe over structure to their detriment.

If concept albums aren't your thing, so be it. But if a rare musical vision is, you'd be foolish to pass up Night of Hunters.

The songs on Deeper Into Dream don't manage to connect with listeners like some of Lee's previous work.

The formula--and the tempo--never really varies, although some of the musical settings are craggier than others.

On balance, then, exactly 68.5% of this record is worth listening to.

Their return is certainly great news to the diehards out there. For everyone else, at least the bar hasn’t been set too high for the follow up.

Brousseau possesses a certain spirit and shine, but a bit more spark would give Grass Punks more of a means by which to elevate the intrigue.

The songs on Blanco first appeared on Bazan’s monthly 7” series, so it seems clear that using synthesizers was one way of differentiating them from their original versions. (He must like doing this, since his last album was a collaboration with the Passenger String Quartet.) But he seems to be onto something interesting with this electronicized approach.

With the debut, the main argument against Fool's Gold seemed to be that they were appropriating too much African influence, sounds they didn't have a right to, into what was primarily pop. With Leave No Trace, I'd say they've gone too far the other way, eliminating the eccentricities and exoticisms that made them interesting.

While that sad waste of talent and potential deals the album a serious blow, the rest of the set proves mostly satisfying, even when the song selection remains relatively unknown.

If, after four decades, Terms of My Surrender appears to take a change of tune, in Hiatt’s hands it’s a winning formula regardless.

With Instinct, Niki and the Dove have made an album that will surely resonate with the American crowds already grooving to the likes of Hot Chip, Passion Pit and Twin Shadow while providing Sub Pop with a whole new planet of sound to colonize.

Despite being together for more than 35 years, their sound is tight and refined without sounding tired.

Maybe it's just a question of getting used to this new Mangan, but you can't help but lament the old one's demise.