Here more than ever, the songs come before the samples; while the samples and sounds still accompany everything, they are now more like a third band member than leading player. This gives The Books a newfound depth of subtlety.

Although the new parts of their "new" album aren't the best, the band certainly deserves some praise and attention for the marathon of 2006. The Broken String will be noticed by at least a few people.

It’s similar enough to past efforts that one can trace his artistic trajectory with a steady arc, but it’s the point in the arc where the slope takes a radical increase, making the name change seem like an appropriate signifier.

Folky, orchestral indie-pop that's surprisingly effervescent and hopeful.

While Veckatimest contains just over fifty-two minutes of some exceptional music, it lacks one critical component that's essential to any form of art: emotion.

Each of the eleven tracks within Grand Animals can be broken down and taken apart as a stand-alone piece--individually they hint at manner of pop rock sounds--but none carries enough weight to eclipse the album.

As with other Crooked Fingers albums, Bachmann’s stories really command most of our attention here, and they serve to elevate his songs beyond just being clever pastiches of pop music.

Whoa, is it ever tough, but wow, is it ever great.

The strength of Person Pitch is that it really doesn't matter what label might be affixed to it; quite simply, it is a gorgeous album from beginning to end.

A delirious fever-dream of an album that continues to impress with each consecutive listen.

It is incensed, dark with disappointment, and shows a startling new side to Sleater-Kinney; while its intensity makes it one of their best albums to date, it isn’t here to make friends or fans.

The instrumentation is superb, the record feels unforced, and the music is heartfelt.

If there is a problem with Some Loud Thunder it is the album’s lack of consistency.

An hour or so later I finally succumbed to my bed, content. I can only imagine Riceboy does so in kind.

Mixing breeds of folk, psychedelica and white bread hip-hop, Why? is genetically predisposed to the same experimental tendencies as Pavement, Grandaddy, Enon, the Beta Band and They Might Be Giants. Each song is a musical Frankenstein, pieced together with live parts of the bodies of all those acts.

Hometowns has an earthly fragility, folksy without being folky. Score another one for Canada.

So if some of the songs sound a little too catchy, it’s because they’re supposed to. Kweli’s trying to draw you in for something important.

A River Ain’t Too Much To Love has more in common with great books than it does with great rock albums; it’s intelligent, introspective, sensitive and best experienced in a very quiet place.

For such a dense, demented album to have a definite ending should assure listeners otherwise afraid of institutionalization that further listening will not only be safe, but worth it even if it wasn't.

It's a brutal record that changes you the same way prison changes a man.

While the production values on the album are stronger, so is The Odd Couple's focus on Cee-Lo's voice.

You’d be hard-pressed to find a music snob who can’t be won over by Cantrell’s lovely compositions.

Björk shrouds Medúlla in mystery and darkness, but it's far from gloomy.

The creativity on display here is jaw-dropping.

I can count three sure hits on this club-crossover coup if radio plays it right.

And desperate single aside, it all works pretty damn well.

Armchair Apocrypha is a wonderful record.

For the better part of an hour, the trio's experimental pop melodies create their own breeze that, in a very Zen-like manner, becomes one with the surroundings of the listener.