Feels a little bit contrived, at times, an elaborate game of dress-ups unleashed under the unlikely title This Is for Real -- a claim which, if not deliberately ironic, sure seems the complete opposite of the fabricated fashion-conscious compilation-of-quotations that the album actually is.

Aside from Riches' rich language, there's not much traditionalism on the album, it being more concerned with stumbling in melancholy fashion through murmured countryish balladry.

The most amazing power-pop album I've heard all year.

Once you get acclimatized to the torturous messages and the dynamic, diverse musical accompaniment shifts from song to song, it becomes obvious that Uh Huh Her is one of Harvey's most rewarding albums.

Seemingly taking its cue from Congleton's willfully bizarre screaming, the band favors atonalism and discordance in its cobbled-together brand of mighty-uptighty protest rock.

A funkdafied smart-bomb that's one part Brooklyn, one part Madchester, guitar-meets-echo-chamber, a little Kompakt but still a little sprawling.

Immersed in beautiful, stirring string arrangements, heartfelt melodies and an all-around warm and welcoming down-home folk feel, the new album is sincerely soothing.

Auf der Maur plays the kinda late-'90s alt-rock that Veruca Salt's debut (American Thighs, the one with "Seether") hinted at (too bad this isn't the late '90s...).

By the time the longplayer finishes playing, you realize, whilst the acoustic guitars and harmonized vocals and that awesome table-tennis-ball-bouncing-beat may've made you think this was some easy-to-love pop platter, it actually hasn't stumbled all the way towards getting-it-together.

They combine the angular dread of Joy Division with the slow burn of the Velvet Underground (circa the third album), underpinned with some sinuous rock dynamics and topped off with laconic, sometimes languid vocals.

Guitars riff, drums pound, the bass plods, and the singer yowls -- but nothing gels.

It's big but it's also clever.

Even the grand indulgence in artistic artifice on A Grand Don't Come For Free -- its self-contained narrative -- seems like it's forsaking a long shelf-life, the downside of the story's "mystery" being that, once you've heard the yarn once, it's a little like you've heard it all, and all it has to offer.

And flaws there are, with many of the tracks sinking into a midtempo morass with decidedly underdeveloped melodies and daft instrumentation.

The marked contrast between the deadpan vocals and the lightness of the music mostly works, although because of the limitations of Merritt's vocal range, he is not always able to project the same depth of feeling detailed in the songs' lyrics.

With this album, French Kicks have taken a sizeable leap forward, taking the right bits and pieces from half a century of rock 'n' roll to make something new and, yes, unique.

Her songbird's voice has never sounded more beautiful than it does here.

The combination of timeless songs, superb production and Banhart's often mesmerizing performance make for a very strong album.

Heroes to Zeros, in spite of a few uneven tracks, makes the cut.

Trampin' has her sounding revitalized, her contagious energy striking sparks off her longtime musical collaborators.

She sounds as distant as much of the Anthology of American Folk Music, and yet there is an intimacy to her songs. This is a singer/poet who really feels things. And this is the new, weird America, and Holland is singing its woes with a wisdom far beyond her age.

Like early arcade-game programmers, Ratatat are working with a greatly reduced palette, and the synth reductionism means they're never going to escape cute.

Rocks like Bad Company and Thin Lizzy and vintage Springsteen. Look out.

They don't always sound consistent on this debut, occasionally misfiring with underworked material, but overall the strengths overshadow any weaknesses, and when they truly hit their stride they're devastatingly effective.

Tortoise have, in the past, asked more from their listeners. This time they let us off a little too easy.

While the album is not as cohesive a vision, many of its songs are more focused.

Their newfound versatility detracts somewhat from their own identity.

The music here tries to be as unobtrusive as possible, its plasticky tone and carefully shined finish constructed to contrast with the earnest soulfulness of Usher's singing. And it's in his words that the album finds the substance that it does have.