Their debut drips of melancholy and swims in gorgeous sheets of incidental noise.

[It] feels more overly familiar and Velvet Underground-y than usual, which isn't a good thing for a band with such forward-thinking ideals.

Per usual, the content is clouded in misery--the kind of soft, sad and touching tracks that'll have Dido fans rediscovering this Greenwich Village adult-alternative pioneer

Even with all the drama, Construction is Elliott's sturdiest creation yet.

The songs don't always match the brouhaha surrounding their arrival, but there's no denying the exquisite craft on display.

[Will] leave White Stripes' fans divided.

As subversive as it is weird.

In essence, it's a younger, fitter and infinitely hipper version of what Moby is doing.

For such a dark and brooding record, Turn on the Bright Lights is also unexpectedly thrilling, coasting on jagged minor-chord guitar melodies and huge emotional swells with a ton of high points along the way.

An album that does his low-key legacy well, mixing classic rock-influenced guitar solos and quaint folk sounds with psychedelic effects and high-pitched melodies that put Rush's Geddy Lee to shame.

An acoustic-based, late-night journey focusing on social and political bummers and characters who've been battered by life.

A well-crafted mix of hardcore bluster, determined melody and anthemic grandness that boasts depth and texture rarely heard from the Warped Tour ilk.

It's stripped down (and we're not just talking about the jumpsuits), simple and the songwriter's best work in ages.

Some called their first two albums derivative, but with this third disc the guys wrestle their greased-up garage boogie until they own it.

Weird, wonderful and, yes, super.

Take Elton John, multiply him by five, add a pinch of Frankie Goes to Hollywood, maybe a little Beck and some Carson Kressley, and you'll have something resembling the Scissor Sisters.

If the album weren't so agreeably off-kilter--short, whispery tunes alternate with long, rambling epics--its mix of guitars and piano would almost seem like the stuff you'd hear on rockers like Layla or Abbey Road.

Casual fans of modern rock may drown here (and probably won't get it), but admirers of like-minded artists such as the Flaming Lips and Built to Spill will certainly get Rev-ved up.

Ms. Dynamite's debut album is heady stuff, punctuated by groundbreaking beats, seductive vocals and melodies that lodge themselves firmly into your cranium.

Her most far-out R&B work to date.

With soft electronic rhythms and tape loops bubbling under, her impassive voice lays out rich lyrics as melodies build and explode around standout tracks like "Galaxies" and "Parisian Dreams."

A just-okay collection of mellow ruminations that, at its best, recalls Tom Waits' Bone Machine, and, at its worst, sounds like indie rock's answer to James Taylor.

Our adult Malkmus is less prone to toss off a half-finished rough gem and more likely to polish and polish until things are a little too shiny.

Somewhere in here there's a really good album just fighting to get out.

Her vocal quirks can take some getting used to, but the oblique melodies and cosmic lyrics in songs such as "On the Radio" and "20 Years of Snow" demonstrate what a remarkable talent is mixed in with all the idiosyncrasies.

With their intensely layered harmonies, pounding rhythms and Martsch's own nasal drawl, songs like "Alarmed" and "You Are" are sublimely hummable pop gems.

Though it's an interesting idea and is at times stirring, the results don't always work as well as one would hope.

There's nothing quite like the sound of a band at the top of its game.