The devotion to setting such teetering to song is the album's strength. No matter the tune, Germano's pipes and strings swoon strong, hovering ominous and knowing like her floating magician's assistant body on the album's cover.

If approached with a substantial amount of skepticism and wariness, The Cure is not a complete disappointment. In fact, it's often surprisingly good and sometimes even great.

Stripped of arrangements, the songs are mostly brooding ballads, shadowy blends of folk mixed with traditional country that highlight Adams' shaky voice and caustic songwriting. [combined review of 1&2]

It's a beautifully produced album, textured and performed with such energy that her least satisfying lyrics (and the lyrics are usually the main problem on a DiFranco album) are muted.

A diverse collection of consistently good songs with little filler.

A slow-motion slice of rock brilliance.

AmAnSet's output is predictable, delivering what the Austin, Texas, group does best: floating melodies and whispered vocals in songs about you and me and now, all the things that came between us.

[It's] Ween's darkest record, and it is tremendous.

Sunlight doesn't boast great pop songs so much as deliver an unbroken string of good ones.

How I Learned to Write Backwards isn't the kind of album that's going to turn up new rewards. Its marginal utility tops off after about 10 listens.

Regardless of whether Cash completes another album, this chapter of the American Recordings can fill the role of masterful final episode or precursor to the stunning conclusion.

Any imperfections Miller has on this album were already there in Old 97's and shouldn't deter fans. The chances he takes are slight but bold -- a little more sincerity, a little more musically risky.

This album is stunning.