Boards of Canada seems to be able to release albums pre-aged, so that all the things that might have bugged you a couple years ago now sounds like another part of why it's a classic.

Sometimes evocative of Joy Division on PCP, sometimes of Arab on Radar on codeine, Ian MacKaye's production maintains the right balance of tin-can sounds with bullfrog disco stylings.

While the music is as delicious and diverse as ever, the Decemberists' meal ticket is Meloy's unmatched lyrical prowess, which borders at times on mod-Shakespearean.

A more savage, flawless and impressive sound could not have emanated from these Austrian-born, Chicago-fed composers of laptop jazz.

A debut album so confident and flawlessly developed it seems more like the work of a band hitting its mid-career creative peak.

A beguiling blend of astute social commentary and first-rate music that rocks, weeps and testifies.

While In The Reins bears the unmistakable imprint of both Calexico and Iron and Wine, these collaborators donâ??t seem to be interested in playing it all that safe.

Sounding like a lost classic from Britain's 1979 art-punk scene, the Futureheads' debut is an assured masterpiece of twitchy, nervous pop.

If Blues isn't as immediately classic-sounding as Molina's 2003 pseudo-debut, it still harbors enough affecting songs to make you pause and admire the man's craft.

The album doesn't break any new ground for the band, but finds Burma at the top of its game, mixing artful music, intelligent lyrics and controlled sonic mayhem.

As with most things this conceptual, certain aesthetic sacrifices must be made. But Matthew Herbert is the remarkable musician, with his keen senses of rhythm and melody, who can pull off such an audacious ruse.

Rejoicing in the Hands finds Banhart developing past his early lo-fi recordings in favor of a crisper, more succinct sound that highlights his intricate guitar picking.

No Earthly Man demonstrates that all the glitz and studio production techniques used in making many records aren't really necessary to craft a compelling document.

My only problem with the album is that it begins to devour its own tail about halfway through, at times sounding tedious, or worse, precious.

Absolutely brutal.

Not Them, You is one of those rare records that rewards on both repeated listens and initial forays.

Throughout, Doe strikes just the right balance. He's confident but not arrogant; laid back, yet full of vitality.

Fans will eat up this new record, as the songwriting rivals, and often exceeds, the best of Crooked Fingers' prior curious work.

More hypnotically dark gems.

The album is harsher, darker, and just plain louder than Low have ever been in their 10-year career.

Furthers the high concept lyrical talents of the group with an added twist: a more atmospheric, slightly new wave sensibility.

It's a crackling, concise collection.

While it feels like they're still finding their way and discovering what they're capable of, it's clear there's potential for greatness and longevity.

If you like your indie rock sweet and sophisticated with undertones of despair, you'll want to cuddle up with Universal Audio.

An essential addendum to the Galaxie 500 story.

Songs walk a delicate tightrope between the brain and the hips, and the libidinal release of the beat is denied, suggested, suppressed, and finally let loose to sweat it out.

Perhaps the best overall representation of Belle and Sebastian’s distinctive brand of indie pop.

Bright Ideas has an air of excitement and energy about it, and contains some of McCaughan's strongest songwriting to date.