I’m Wide Awake is an uneven product, full of everything there is to loathe and love about Oberst.

If Edan can sort out the dismayingly schizophrenic nature of Beauty and the Beat, he could harness his immense potential as both a rapper and lyricist and create something pretty cool, especially if he gets guest-MCs who perform as well as Insight, Percee P, and Mr. Lif do on this album.

Minus the instrumentals (eight), tracks featuring guest stars (three), and songs whose only redeeming quality is their cool title (at least five, including "Son of a Bitch," "I’m Going to Stop Pretending I Didn’t Break Your Heart," and "Whatever Happened to Soy Bomb"), you’re really only left with a handful of bonafide Eels tunes.

Kaputt is filled with light, sprightly textures, all pleasant and groovy, but the album still seems to lumber along with breezy but basic sequencer rhythms, indistinct melodies, and sax blowing similarly all the way through.

It’s the latter comradely pursuits that this new 2CD compilation attempts to put into a comfortable package for those who just can’t get enough from the twosome, or need a roadmap to understand where it leads into their better-known works; which it just about succeeds in doing.

Many of the songs feel like incomplete character sketches that simply gesture at yearning and crisis.... Salad Days is, nevertheless, an interesting piece of work.

So if you can make it to track six - the lush “Only Love Can Set You Free” - Love Songs For Patriots becomes far more palatable from then on in.

I admire the band's unorthodox approach to its music and its combination of disparate rock and non-rock elements.... That said, I will probably never be able to listen to this entire album in a single sitting.

Yeah, they're good at what they do, but what they do is just not that palatable.

It never really builds steam until the end, when it is almost too late.

It’s not quite the doom-laden disaster that provisional plays suggest but neither is it an easy-to-recommend addition to the Low catalogue.

Street Horrrsing is a solid if still flawed album full of enough cool moments to satisfy anyone who might be interested in checking it out.

In effect, the group have carbon-copied the sound of The Great Eastern but neglected to paste-in an equal number of tunes.

Although annoyingly inconsistent, Infiniheart contains enough interesting tunes with odd arrangements and instrumentation to convince us that Chad Van Gaalen is a talented songwriter and multi-instrumentalist and is capable of producing engaging, lo-fi, ambient pop.

The songs themselves aren’t as outstanding as they could be, and it sure doesn’t help that the production choices give them less of the overwhelming energy that the Pharmacists are known for.

Over all the album is pretty decent and enjoyable in its context. When it feels mediocre, it’s because the ideas, which once made this band and many post-metal bands so ahead of their time, have been caught up to.

The sad truth is that few of the songs top their studio counterparts.

Although most of the songs are good individually, the record is fairly monochromatic, and it can get a bit tiresome listening to it from start to finish.

It’s not that the album suffers too much from being stuck in traction that it won’t still be appealing to fans of the first album. It’s just that, in terms of expectations, it isn’t the game changer that many of us were expecting.

So while the subdued vocal harmonies and acoustic folk influences of 70s pop bands Chicago and America can be heard, there is enough intricately layered dream-pop floating around the fleshed-out orchestrations to keep indie-rock fans contented.

While The Mendoza Line's lyrics may be full of light and full of fire, the music here is not.

It lacks the consistency and unique feel that the original had in abundance, and lacks the quality hooks that defined his debut.

Our Blood doesn't leave me wanting more, it doesn't leave me drooling over another listen, and it sure doesn't leave me interested in more of Richard Buckner's work. But on the same measure, it doesn't leave me sick or angry.

Byrne fans will probably already own this, and probably should, if for no other reason than the final two tracks. Casual fans who haven’t seen the movie will probably be put off by 13 mostly homogeneous tracks of soundtrack fare. Without an emotional attachment to either Byrne or the movie, that’s simply too much for even a solid album like this to overcome.

A simple exercise in bright, energetic--if somewhat vapid--pop music.

Despite Fortune’s several throwaway tracks and sometimes generic alt-country feel, it serves as a reminder that The Mendoza Line’s prolific songwriters are still capable of churning out catchy, accessible pop songs.

Ultimately, the hushed tones of the contemplative indie-twee The Caribbean weave on Discontinued Perfume is moderately pleasing yet unspectacular.

A shock in the uttermost worst way because Wale has suffered from the over-production, guest-crammed, lack-of-ideas style that usually follows with a major label release.

Eternal Turn of the Wheel just seems to pack too much of an antiquated, overused style into it without any new innovation and I just can't get behind this album.

It worries me that cheesy metal riffs have made their way onto a Converge record, making it sound like it might be accepted on tour with Mastodon. It’s not a matter of breaking apart but experimentation that might not always go right.

A solid yet underachieving return.

Jesse Sykes and company have fashioned an alternative country-rock album that is both decent and reflective.

This is an unwieldy yet infectious compendium that will satisfy those who need it most.

Guster finally feels like a full band and not some cutesy sideshow act.

As half of the fun of an album is trying to figure out what the artist is trying to do creatively, having the artist essentially tell you what they're going to do and then watching them do it, is somewhat less interesting.

Ultimately, The Avalanche lacks the lasting impact of Illinois, as its songs don’t quite hold the same sense of gravitas, economy, and focus.

There is just too much hit and miss on this album.

While it feels great to have some undiluted Avey Tare material, he seems a little creatively restless here.

Arthur & Yu's inconsistently brewed blend of neo-psychedelic indie-folk is definitely an acquired taste and the home-recorded, lo-fi production along with uninspired songwriting renders In Camera incapable of being a worthwhile investment of your listening time.

A collection that’s muddled but peppered with gems.

Simply put, it's a decent album. There are a handful of great tracks and handful of tankers. The rest is just kind of there.

Come Home to Mama is lyrically stiff on top of instrumental complexity. The lyrics need to be pulled way back. What does work are the opening beats and rhythms awash in a mix of sonic, ambient environments.

Strangelet may not be Grant-Lee Phillips’ most stirring collection of songs, but it’s certainly no catastrophe.

It's this robust fervor and subject matter that fire up and lift up many of the songs on Ceremonials, but the constant exhortation comes at a price. Listener fatigue sets in as the relentless, up-tempo pace and sharply exclamatory vocal tone overwhelms over the course of the album.

To sustain her muse beyond short-term thrill-seeking, a little more focus, restraint and better pacing is certainly required. That said, Acid Tongue is still-peppered with acts of greatness, which will no doubt grow further in stature through successive spins.

Temper, an album that stays the course in terms of facade but for the most part lacks the great songwriting that elevated "Précis" above other singer-songwriters.

A staggeringly uneven salad of powerpop alt-country and even R&B that succeeds as often as it fails.

He over-thought most of the tracks, failing to maintain focus on or fully develop any particular theme. Various elements drop in and out at terse intervals, presenting an idea for just enough time to intern it before moving on. But El-P has always had a theatrical flair, creating music that transports you to another place and time, and several tracks here do suck you into his demonic hip-hop underworld.

In the end, this is better left to die-hard Yo La fans and jealous bassists everywhere.

Mo’ Mega starts off strong... But from [the middle] on out the songs lose focus.

Overall, though, there's a lack of memorability tarring this CD. Very few of the songs sound familiar even after repeated listenings.

There are some genuinely good songs on this album. But good bands make music that their listeners don't have to really try to enjoy.

The problem is the songs. Oh, the songs - they're pretty, all right, but there's no substance.

Ultimately, it’s the combination of thwarted ambition and lack of proper recognition, which is apparent, that prevents Beware from ever fully taking flight as a listening experience.

This is a solid, sonically beautiful album.... [Yet] the problem with her quicker stuff is that, while pretty, it tends to sound all the same; you end up desperate for the chorus, so that you can tell one song from another.

Though true that the album lacks the fervent surge of nearly every other Sigur Rós record, it's far from a snoozer. The conspicuous beauty and flummoxing eccentricity of the past haven't gone anywhere – they've just had their edges softened.

It is both a timid musical experiment and a relatively directionless one at that.

When not overdone, the playing and singing are excellent, and when they want to, the Dresden Dolls can pen a mighty fine tune as well.

It’s obvious Adamson possesses some serious musical vision, but Stranger on the Sofa takes so many musical missteps and is so laughable lyrically, I have trouble recommending it.

The question then arises whether this double album is “necessary” in the overall scheme of Sigur Ros’s work.... When listening to Hvarf, the answer is decidedly “yes” for sustaining their known output, but on the Heim side of things, with its stripped down, string-focused, acoustic sound, the answer leans towards “no”.

Whereas Magnolia was instantly gratifying – a sea change for Molina both sonically and emotionally - What Comes After the Blues is scattered and tangled.

It’s somewhat troubling to see Jurado abandoning the genre of folk that served him so well on his last album. More unsettling is the simultaneous presence of the mopey indulgence of some of Jurado’s faux-gothic breakup stories and the honed, spare excellence of tracks like “White Center,” “Lottery,” and “Fuel.”

It's not that so many of these disparate sections sound bad--on the contrary, they're generally quite listenable and often feel like excellent mini-songs--but that they seem to willfully distract from a far more worthwhile mantle that Akron/Family are more than capable of taking up.

While individual songs work on their own, the album seldom succeeds as a whole.

Noir... writes some really genuine, cheery, memorable songs, but it’s just too much to digest on one record.

With its restructured band lineup and multiple producers/locations, Fading Trails is unavoidably a somewhat dispirited and disjointed affair.

The unashamedly wilful reductionism of Brightblack Morning Light will either engross or alienate listeners, depending wholly on instinctive preferences.

Picking through Blurry Blue Mountain in stages, there is evidently a decent fistful of individually strong moments but taken as a whole its meandering, undemonstrative nature does make it feel like a somewhat makeweight collection; one that will appeal to few people beyond the existing Giant Howe fanbase.

The problem is, Parton seems hesitant to just go ahead and continue to make the kinds of albums that will attract hardcore folk and roots enthusiasts, instead tempering her material with apparent attempts to hold appeal to a wider audience. So, at best, the final results are a bit mixed.

Nocturama isn't the weakest album in Nick Cave's canon, but it's far from being a particularly good one either.

While Trans-Continental Hustle isn't exactly a disappointment, it isn't the thoroughly solid album it could (and should have) been.

Horses in the Sky has some melodic, attractive moments, though these are drowned by yelps and off-key vocals that grate and stain the whole work.

The band hasn’t yet proven capable of rendering a thoroughly remarkable album. This is nothing to be ashamed of, though.

Lo-fi recording and lackluster production force the songs to rely on the comforting characteristics of the understated indie-twee-folk, of which there are too little to make it real appealing.

Still Living is undoubtedly a clear step in the right direction for this Sacramento trio displaying exponential growth while maintaining their penchant for infectious rock n' roll grooves.

There are nine tracks of somewhat forgettable spacey-psych 70's songs that are packed with confusion from start to finish. It sounds as if the band skipped a few pages, assuming that their immediate debut success would carry over with the risks they took for this one.

Hometowns may not be the amazing album some had hoped for but it is an honest debut on many levels: sometimes great, most of the time decent and a good while just being there.

Most of the songs on Power are quite impressive, and a good number are excellent, but there are some songs that were probably better left in the studio.

At each fork in the road, instead of going one way or another, Lerner takes the fork.

Some of Log 22 feels like a step too far, with the band's ambitious arrangements falling foul to the limitations of their musical abilities.

Load Blown, superficially, is more of the same; sample some 30 second clips online or in your local record store and it's believable that this is a continuation of what they've been doing the past few albums. The entirety, however, exhibits otherwise, and isn't nearly as fulfilling.

Tookah is a frustrating album because there are a couple examples of something fantastic happening in Torrini’s musical mind but it doesn’t quite deliver in the end.

The majority of the record is solid and enjoyable, but taken in its entirely, Riot is a bit tiring.

Revival is a good album, and I don’t intend to imply that some of the slower tunes or more laid-back lyrics are simple throwaways, it’s just that this is definitely a change of direction for a band that has followed a relatively clear path for such a long time.

Their sound and influences seem to jump out all over the place, but regardless, it is entertaining.

Constellations is only remarkable when it is given your absolute attention, but it doesn’t come up with enough ideas to keep it on its own, lulling the listener with too many serviceably dramatic but non-descript piano-led pieces.

The tracks with fuller arrangements are the more interesting and surprising tracks here, and they suggest Vile would do well to seek out other strong personalities to write and record with.

Feel the Sound is such a consistent, and consistently smooth, pop album, that it might put you to sleep, or at least a musically-induced coma.

Year of the Black Rainbow is not a bad album. It has its moments, but it is a far, far cry from the greatness Coheed & Cambria possessed on all four previous albums, especially the masterpiece of melody, dynamics, musicianship and continuity that was "Good Apollo I."

Manzanita is an uneven album that nonetheless reveals a great talent and a terrific voice.

Overall then, Whatever, My Love is a mixed affair. Die-hard lovers of Become What You Are will have few real complaints but might perhaps overdose a touch on déjà vu. For the less pre-devoted, a cherry-picked yet economically-unviable EP selection from the album might have served this reunion better artistically.

There are a number of ear-worthy gems on the album but it’s difficult to muster up enthusiasm for a band that doesn’t seemingly have much enthusiasm themselves.

A decidedly mixed bag that offers many captivating songs but not a consistently high-quality artistic statement.

Alternating between sounding like a gremlin and sounding like a baby, the vocals don't so much haunt as distract.

These initial songs are noteworthy by any measure; the remainder of the album, then, is a bit of a let-down, especially on first listen.

Nothing here is horrible, but nothing here is great.

Surprisingly enough, it lacks a strong sense of focus (something the creative basking of Sea Lion honed in on) and for all of its elements of sweeping grandiosity, they never seem to have much of a purpose.

Bardo Pond is not necessarily Avant-garde, but neither is it easy listening. It does however, defy categorization and perhaps with a little less unguided frenzy and a little more tempered structure would allow this reviewer to recommend it.

Bee Hives is a mostly instrumental album that heavily favors the fuzzy keyboard tones and heavy reverb of the band’s early work.

Mountains had found a way to work in an area which was unexplored and undefined, successfully fashioning their own esthetic. This new direction is taking Mountains away from that specialness and closer to the average.

Sea of Cowards, for all its snarkiness and caustic overtones, is ultimately a fun record, but it’s likely the band had way more fun playing it than I did listening to it.

Alas, it feels like In the Absence of Truth finds the band both spinning its wheels and running out of ideas.

Unfortunately one great number can't save the whole act.

If each track is taken on its own merits, it's apparent that these girls have real talent and there is some creative indie rock here.

While tuneful and solid, [In Time To Voices] is not as spectacularly primal as their initial offering Box Of Secrets.

Sunlight Makes Me Paranoid has enough substantive quirks amongst the tiresome new-wave signposts to make this album a reasonable yet flawed artefact that is more than just the sum of its quaint parts.

The North continues to show off their skill and while nothing earth-shattering will be found here, it's something to fully bask in.

Evangelicals certainly have the potential to push through and make amazing music--it’s just too much hit and miss here.

Based on the simple songwriting and the nauseating lyrical content, This Addiction is sad, and to the die-hard Alkaline Trio fans such as myself, it will greatly disappoint.

Hippies is hardly song focused, the record's 16 tracks tend to mesh together into a blurry, tape-fueled haze--there aren't any obvious highlights here.

“Something Hyper” and “Xian Undertaker” are exceptional and worth hearing. However, the rest of the album provides very little payoff.

The album would be yet another trademark Strokes outing if not for its glaring inconsistency in the later tracks.

Adamson is certainly adept at replicating the sights and sounds of the Bond and Blaxploitation films that inspired him in his youth. But is he celebrating his passion or merely mocking it in a hamfisted fashion? Sadly if feels like too much of the latter, even if it is by accident.

It’s the sheen and almost reflexive attentiveness to commercial accessibility that’s placed on a good handful of the songs that can make them sometimes fail or falter or seem weaker than they truly are.

Overall, what could have been yet another cash-cow milker actually turns out to be a curious and compelling piece of therapy for Frank Black as a writer and performer.

With a few shining moments, the band seems like they've given up. Rather than pine over an album full of memorable hits, Damnesia falls short in many ways.

Folds' wit is less biting, but it's still present. And he's still got style.

It's hard to dislike this album because it is capably performed and the sounds and voices work up a dreamy headspace, but it's also difficult to be really enthusiastic about it.

It’s a multi-layered album constantly shifting in mood and sound offering the listener much to explore.... The band struggle, however, to distinguish themselves from their influences and constantly fall under the shadow of Can, Pink Floyd and The Flaming Lips.

Brokeback And The Black Rock reveals itself as a flawed yet still sporadically rewarding long-player.

Whilst Songs and Other Things may still attract loyal aficionados of Verlaine’s idiosyncratic solo work, it’s certainly unlikely to win over any sceptics.

Through all of the missteps along the way, Face Control is a good album that with some more attention and ingenuity could have been so much better.

Varshons II canters along as a casual grab-bag of songs plucked from largely obscure locations. Whilst the results are mixed, there’s no doubt that Dando hasn’t fully lost the reinterpretative knack that previously served him so well on likes of Suzanne Vega’s “Luka” or Mike Nesmith’s “Different Drum”.

Drums Between the Bells is by no means an embarrassment, but don't look for it to be lumped into the upper echelon of Eno's output either, where triumphs like Discreet Music or Another Green World reside.

Roadkillovercoat, though possessing several arresting and infinitely entertaining moments, lacks the overall effect and a certain cohesion to render it an instant classic.

Black Clouds and Silver Linings is, obviously, a mixed bag from Dream Theater. Fans like myself will enjoy it, but again, you can’t deny how familiar it all feels.

Packing both studio polish and meandering melodies makes for a largely safe yet inconvenient marriage.

It's hard not to listen to this album and to think that they've mined this territory already in 69 Love Songs.

Overall, there is sufficient sun-kissed pleasure on Varshons to extend the patience of Evan Dando-devotees a little bit longer but not enough to surpass past makeover masterstrokes.

The way that Howling Bells constructed Radio Wars relies on strong melodies, hooks, songs, songs that aren’t really there, ideas not quite developed.

These songs sound more like parts of songs that have been extracted from something bigger and more fully realized.

Nightcrawler stretches Yorn’s limits as an artist and crosses the line in a few places.

Overall Snowflake Midnight isn’t quite the disaster that the disillusioned might have expected.

Each track is filled with indelible melodies and hooks sure to have you keeping time with your leg or tapping your toes. But with music like this, singing along is the ultimate litmus test, and unfortunately the non-descriptness of the vocals leaves this album lacking a bit of personality and memorability.

There is a solid amount of quirkiness to realize and I Was A King surely have a knack for turning out strong songs but maybe next time a 'less equals more' approach would be more fitting.

Daedelus is a master at what he does, and what he does is different than virtually everything else around him, but he’s playing a little too close to the vest here, trading much of his style for a little more beat.

The indulgences and overreaching take away from the really good songs.

While there's certainly something to be said for BestCoast's paeans to the utopian side of life near the Pacific, the subtle shifts in Cosentino's songwriting are best experienced when the rays of sunshine are muted.

The sad thing about Waves are Universal is that there are many songs that just don't cut it.

Four long players into their career, you can't help but wonder if Interpol is just trying too hard to recapture some of that Turn On the Bright Lights magic. Either that, or the creative juices have been stifled by a rough turn of events.

When the band operates under more traditional songwriting styles they can be quite catchy, but the more wandering, abstract moments can sometimes wander a little too far into non-structured noise.

When Le Tigre ventures out on an extended wire in a familiar direction with tunes like "On the Verge," "Nanny Nanny Boo Boo," and "After Dark," the ensemble proves that this long-awaited follow-up to Feminist Sweepstakes was not in vain.

While Polysics have certainly come into the peak of their sound with Now is the Time, the mindless intensity of the album can be a tad overwhelming.

With repetitive, though bizarrely catchy refrains of failed puppy love and crushes gone awry, Kiss and Tell markets itself to an audience that still borrows money from mom in order to purchase the release.

The guitars and drums machines and electronic selections are a bit unlistenable. There are some redeeming qualities, however, with a solid groove-ridden guitar fashion show with "I'll Sue You" and an eccentric but extremely tasteful European guitar ballad in "Lisbon".

As a live album, Out West is a fair one.

Despite the overall melange approach being a little uneven, there are some genuine delights to be found within.

Violet Cries, one of the more anticipated debut albums of the year, isn't a let down, but it's a difficult album to get a grasp on.

If you're an old, die-hard Kings Of Leon fan Come Around Sundown will upset you. Keep what you love about this band close to your heart and ignore this album, you'll thank yourself in the end.

Aside from its title track, most of Kings and Queens of the Underground sounds a lot like primetime 80s Idol, untouched by the ravages of time, lifestyle, changes in musical fashions or anything else.

Is this a "mature" album? Probably. But I can't help thinking that without Nina Persson's beautiful voice, Gravity just wouldn't have garnered a whole lot of attention.

All in all, this is pretty good album and it is by no means horrible.

Blue Lambency Downward is best played in the background of your day. When it becomes interesting (and it will many times), your ears will perk up and you’ll be impressed. For the slow and boring intervals in between, feel free to focus on something else.

Ultimately, the peaks and troughs of Grinderman 2 RMX come from magnifying both the good and the so-so qualities of the original source material and from finding the most imaginative or laziest ways to refashion them.

Too much of the edge is gone, too much emphasis is placed on guitar solos, and the guitars sound, at times, rather flat and listless.

Incumbent crescendos and contemplative guitar interludes notwithstanding, Mono has chosen to cloak itself in the inescapable fog of its forefathers and influences rather than transcend the sum of its parts.

As a release for anyone else, this would be a well received and respected release. But for Ben Folds, whose first two solo outings were both phenomenal, he simply hasn’t lived up to expectations.

The Thrills still have more musical verve than many other second-album victims, but too much of this album seems as if The Thrills have wearied of their own sunny musical dispositions.

[Its] strongest songs more than compensate for the few lapses in songwriting found elsewhere.

The album feels like a grab-bag of the band’s process, but not a cohesive expression of their craft.

Lament after lament, they start to all blend together, and all of Thomas's considerable skill as a singer, musician, and composer can't seem to create any really arresting moments, just a lot of pretty songs.

For every standout track on the record there is another song where Sparta takes a step back to assess the situation and falters a little bit.

An unquestionable oblique listen by mainstream standards, but compared to Of Montreal's previous offerings, Paralytic Stalks demonstrates an intimacy and immediacy which Barnes would do well to repeat.

Despite the band’s annoying lyrics, their beats can be catchy and they have a kick-ass bass player.

7th Symphony feels like an album that's 60% true artistic vision and 40% simply borrowed from the mainstream to fill out the track listing. If Apocalyptica can craft songwriting that's unique, mature and deep, they should include it on the next album. If not, they should just stick to the instrumentals.

The Dave Grohl production is the best the band has ever had, and the disc absolutely catches fire in a few places, but there’s still a nagging doubt about Rye Coalition.

There are few efforts as noble as Fink’s attempt to express the realities of human suffering. It’s unfortunate that Invisible Ones can’t consistently relate these messages musically.

Dumb Luck has [its] share of intriguing moments, on a few shining tracks.

Upon first listen, some of Calamity, though fun, sounds like partial ideas rather than full-fledged songs. Some tracks never recover from this symptom after a dozen spins; some do.

On the whole, Grey Oceans seems to be the same old thing. I wouldn't recommend this to a first time listener of the band.

Barrett combines his best strengths to deliver one of the album’s few shining spots; it’s just a shame there aren’t more of them on here.

Remind Me ... has the feel of two albums compressed into one, and a slightly more minimal approach to instrumentation would have given some of the slower numbers added gravitas.

The songs here seldom rise above the level of being really cute.

This isn’t a horrible album by any means, but it also isn’t very good. Sitek has done an astounding job of creating misty atmospheres and it’s these small touches that aid the album in becoming an interesting listen.

Codename: Rondo showcases a softer sounding group and it's one that sounds neither confident, nor too amusing.

This synth pop rhythm and blues album is nothing out of the ordinary. I do believe, however, that there are some clever twists throughout the album but unfortunately it all becomes a bit repetitive both musically and lyrically.

Even the better tracks fall a little flat.

A solid collection of delicate songs.