On Vanguard, the same basic formula is employed, only the emphasis is much more on reggae influences, and the experimentation with genre boundaries is considerably toned down. There’s still much that shines, however.

Yeah, it's a party. And it's great rock music. Those who claim Manson "went back to Goth" and reclaimed Antichrist's noise after Mechanical proved too subtle for kids are only partly right. Okay, he virtually cloned his hit "The Beautiful People" in "Disposable Teens." And there are several familiar yell-and-stomp numbers on Holy Wood. But even those almost all contain a double-take chord change or a textural overdose or a mind-blowing bridge, and they'll be terroristic in concert. More important, there are a bunch of plain brilliant tracks where Manson anoints bits of rock history into his own church.

There?s a magical sound potion that can cure lovesickness, and it?s called Parachutes, the first full-length CD by Coldplay.... Every song sounds like a hit.

Propelled by her aggressive but seductive voice, Haunted walks the line between dark, beat-driven trip-hop and warm, melodic pop. What separates the album from its competition is Poe?s smart and emotionally charged songwriting, rife with raw energy balanced by gorgeously understated hooks.

A beautiful album that even non-Harvey fans might relate to, Stories is an undeniable, unrelenting triumph.

Music as kitschy, joyful and grand as it clearly intends, a tongue-in-cheek soundtrack to the James Bond movie we'd all like our lives to be.

Kid A may feel cold and ahuman at first, but stick with it for the full 50 minutes: Listen long enough, and a fragile, flickering glow becomes apparent amid the chill. It?s the sound of human warmth flooding into a formerly alien space -- of Radiohead finally going exactly where they wanted.

For Solaris, Photek sticks to his signature style of clinical percussion etching a variety of danceable rhythms. Of the 11 tracks, only "Terminus," the disc?s opener, is truly jungle. The rest of the album features a technophile's gift bag of futuristic dance cuts... Most all of it's gorgeous stuff, and high praise is in order.

Producer Ross Robinson (Korn, Deftones, Slipknot, etc.) brings a degree of alt-rock punch to the proceedings, but there's more than enough garage grit left in the grooves to keep the indie kids smirking. There's certainly some downtime on Relationship of Command, but when it hits you'll be smarting, and smiling.

Despite having gotten a bit too caught up in imitation rather than innovation, the trio have succeeded in making an album that's accessible without compromising their artistry.

There isn't the slightest pause between any of the tracks on Thirteen Tales, just one big schmeer of good-rockin' vibes cresting and troughing for the length of this ode to, well, hipness.

Equally comfortable in the realms of rock and dance, Holmes is hard to pin down stylistically; his latest album, Bow Down to the Exit Sign, like Moby's 1999 Play, draws from classic blues to add new life to electronic music.

His latest finds the Jamaican lyrical wizard working Rasta magic on a humorous pastiche of sexual posturing and socially conscious manifestoes, all nailed down on a canvas of ass-shakin' ragga, hip-hop, reggae and dancehall jams.

The Moon and Antarctica is darker and colder than their previous stuff, but maintains the very particular blend of peculiar lyrics and uncompromising rock that consistently weaves through all their records.

The recipe has changed little; if anything, it?s only become more articulate. Hauntingly beautiful backing tracks that could easily stand on their own float along, barely moving.

Anchored by moody, mid-tempo songs enveloped in pop-washed trip-hop..... a stylish collection of well-tailored backdrops for Boyle's mournful soprano.

A wonderfully warm recording, Silver & Gold is country-folk soaked in co-producer Ben Keith's crying pedal steel, Neil's harmonica, fiddles, acoustic guitars and even Emmylou and Linda for good measure on one cut.

Hammering a shade softer, MDFMK daubs layers and layers of sophisticated balance -- all depth, no surface.... And the guitars and vintage synths, formerly sprayed on like aerosol cheese, now blend and complement each other -- like, you know, music.

It's all very precious stuff, sounding like some of Sebadoh's best material. Kids who've eaten up the whole indie-rock thing thus far will go bananas over Pedro the Lion.

Their sound is steeped in rare grooves, enhanced with hip-hop electronics and designed for lighthearted dancing. If the pair occasionally turn their rhythms on autopilot and rely on algorithm, you can't really hold it against 'em.

After three discs, Merritt's mesmerizing display of sustained inconsequentiality starts to seem like one of those Guinness Book of World Records stunts, impressive but pointless.

Warmer, more soulful and worldly than the average drug-fueled ravers, Basement Jaxx may not quite have relaid house's foundation, but they've at least redrawn a few of its rules -- beat by gleeful beat.