This extraordinarily gifted vocalist casts an unbreakable spell over each interpretation, turning it into something else entirely, and making one believe that it's impossible for the supposed original to be as significant.

On Naked Self, Johnson hasn't let up one bit. His tongue is as sharp as ever, and his songs show that updating one's style doesn't have to mean dressing in this year's airwave fashions.

Suicides offers music that's even softer and more blurred around the edges than the band's previous efforts (Moon Safari and Premiers Symptomes), deftly meshing Bacharach-influenced progressions with martini lounge instrumentation for a mix that's retro-futuristic and smooth as, well, air.

The album is not without its flaws (some of the songs are less than memorable, and as always, the proceedings are dampened somewhat by Corgan's nasal drone of a voice), but it's a welcome return to form for one of music's original alt-rock heroes.

The translations that work best are the more modern pieces... The chief fault with Pieces is that, at times, it veers dangerously close to Muzak.

Making a record that delivers satisfaction from start to finish is a rare and momentous thing. Making any record that sounds unlike anything else is a victory in itself. To bring the two in line as Yo La Tengo has done with And Then Nothing Turned Itself Inside-Out may as well be called perfection.

On strictly musical terms, Bloodflowers is a disappointment. There is no daring journey to find that elusive new sound.

Although it is a more orchestrated affair than the stripped down sound this band is known for, The Night is as impressive as any of their previous efforts.