Liars got the punk wave thing down, but what makes them more interesting than their peers is their willingness to explore beyond the edges of the new-wave box.

With harmonies that could have been stolen from Pet Sounds altered by Aphex Twin or Squarepusher, Zoomer is the perfect way to introduce pre-school tots to techno-pop pleasures.

Don't discount the reggae portion of the program; with island impresario Tony Kelly involved in much of the album, songs like "Party Hard" and "Pure Pretty Gal" strongly affirm the tropical origins of this storm.

This is simple music, driving music, perfect music for getting a good bath from the asinine perils of nu-metal and modern rock.

There's also a heady melodicism that suggests the theatrical firepower of Roxy Music, a droning tonality where big ambiance sets up.

Nothing matches the artists' very best work--but, excepting a ghastly appearance by Linda Perry, it's still mostly fun.

The production can be a little too clinical and antiseptic in spots.

Genre-wise, it's a schizophrenic shambles, yet somehow it all hangs together wonderfully as a solid, satisfying album.

Listen beyond the surface and you'll hear an old school folkie who could just as easily curl up with her acoustic guitar and sing you to heavenly sleep.

Even when the songs aren't particularly gripping, the breezy hopelessness of the music makes you feel gloriously bad, self-pitying, and just plain worthless.

Duritz isn't the soul singer he'd like to be.

Daring and inventive, it takes the kind of stylistic chances and creative leaps that were once the property of the heavies of '60s rock and pop.

Oasis is back, and in top form.

It strikes a balance between the buzzy pop of their first album and the heavier thud of their second.

You remember Bee Thousand, Alien Lanes, Mag Earwhig! ? Well, those days are here again.

Throughout there is a warm, unguarded, generous spirit.

A beautiful excursion of weird cross-genres slices.

Unlike artists who "discover" the idea during songwriting droughts, Ferry is one of the few "rock" singers to embrace (and master) the underrated art of "song stylist."

The sheer melodic gorgeousness of the finest songs here make Alice the pick of Waits's new matched set.

The bleakness at the core of Blood Money won't make it a first choice for a late-night spin, but it's manna for the artist's fans.

A shoo-in as one of this year's "best of's."

The band's strong suit--which, when it gets down to business, has gotten noticeably stronger (and tighter and more focused) over the course of four releases--are earthy dance tracks like "Music Plus 1" and "Wog.com" which take hypnotic bass and drum tracks and embellish them with a variety of samples, noises, etc., and Tjinder Singh's simple, effective vocals.

It's that rare record that both thinks and rocks.

One of the best commercial rock albums of the year so far, and the sort of quality work that should dispel any skepticism about Crow's current hyper exposure.

While some of the complexities of their precursors have been beveled off by MM&W, dancefloor maniacs and couch boppers alike will find something to admire in rhythmically compulsive entries like the title track.

Throughout, Young's guitarwork--in tone and style--is noticeably on the money, playing his fuzzy, single-note melodic lines with the deliberateness of a horn player.

While her voice has never sounded better, the lion share of songs she selected for the album are mediocre at best.

It's the addition of producer Steve Jordan's bass guitar (an instrument JSBE has wrongly assumed unnecessary) that makes this a complete listening experience.