Reveals Yo La Tengo's understanding of stasis without stagnation.

There's nothing new under the sun in the world of Stereolab. Diehards will enjoy Margerine Eclipse simply because it exists and isn't lousy.

This is where Scarlet's Walk falters: Its concept is unfathomable.

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.

Save for a few scenes, it's a complete tragedy. Or a comedy.

L'Avventura is suitable for playing in grocery stores, Starbucks and parties where you don't want anyone to complain about the music -- because it goes unnoticed. It's as if someone made a mix CD of Mazzy Star's least memorable material.

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.

Want One matches the eclecticism of Poses and his eponymous debut, but suffers from a lack of memorable songs.

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.

Ether Teeth can be dull if you're paying too much attention to it.

It's no departure from any of the band's previous combinations of shuffling beats, spacey blips, dramatic strings and squeaking, soughed vocals; such a delivery of old comforts is precisely what makes the album so dull.

[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.

A deeply flawed final effort.

Without the first disc, the double disc Cold Roses wouldn't be half bad.

A return to form, though, doesn't imply a return to greatness.

The problem, however, is that the new album is too clean. It lacks the mess of the original, and the mess is honest.

This album is stunning.

Many of these songs have about as much sonic bite as a warm cantaloupe. When you compound this with Doe's more meandering songs, the results sound anemic.

Beyoncé never met a ballad she didn't like. Out of Dangerously in Love's 14 tracks, a staggering eight are the kind of overwrought, no-tempo love songs even Toni Braxton has the sense to avoid.

There are half-considered melodies, vague nods to alt-country and a general cheerlessness that often makes listening a chore.