Candela has some shining moments but, overall, is an album that teases the palette instead of really satisfying.

Wonderful, Glorious is a solid Eels record, with some of the best arrangements they have ever written.

Though Owens takes precise measures to avoid it, the downfall of Lysandre ultimately comes down to this same-y-ness, as the majority of the album's tracks do very little to truly grab the listeners attention.

The record is nothing new, but he somehow manages to make it all his own.

Centralia finds Mountains in their finest form yet, indicating a new level of comfort in the space they've been carefully carving out over the past decade.

Tomahawk has since its debut defined itself and Patton provides enough of an anchor to carry the band through lamentation (I.O.U.) and noir-ish narrative (A Thousand Eyes) in addition to its heavier output, which make up the album's best moments.

As a whole, Elements Of Light might feature a fair amount of padding, and it might not be quite as original sounding as the idea would suggest (other than the aforementioned Bjork comparison, there are more than a few moments that recall Aphex Twin at his more contemplative), but even so it does offer more than enough to satisfy as a listening experience, rather than just a curiosity.

Sadly, the interesting ideas fall at the place on the spectrum where it jives for just a short time, at least for this particular listener.

They are only a few steps away from making a truly great record, because they certainly aren't lacking in talent, they just need an identity to give it a purpose.

The end result is a very ambitious piece of psychedelia-tinged indie rock that rewards patience with some truly inspired tweaks on the typical slow-jam formula.

Sometimes, the results are heavily wrought and obviously worked over (the muddled instrumentation in the chorus of Breakers comes to mind), and some of the skittering grooves (the spastic tribal pounding of Wooly Mammoth) don't quite fit in the album's overarching arc. Nevertheless, the stately elegance of Hummingbird emphasizes how Local Natives are fit for the role of indie rock saviors.

A finely crafted collection of indie rock.

Overall, Almanac is a good follow up that helps cement the band's holding in the new age of dreamy folk rock.

Though the band's approach is fairly consistent throughout the album, there are instrumental ideas explored with tracks like In The Branches of Yggdrasil and Nice Riff, Clichard, the latter of which takes a shot at some melancholic Richard D. James beat invention.

Despite rarely achieving all of what it goes for, it's hard to deny the sheer pleasure of getting the enormous hooks and noise that are constantly on display here.

What's most striking is how effortlessly Bundick seems to construct each groove without compromising the complexity of his hybrid style.

Oak Island, just out on Secretly Canadian, is a logical extension of that debut's theme and style, but is better crafted--or perhaps just better served--and stands as a good example of how subtlety can sneak up on a person and pack a desolate punch.

All that it has going for it is the promise of adolescent wit, and even in that regard it completely fails to deliver.

While the production is as fresh and exciting as you're likely to see anywhere in hip-hop right now, lyrically it's a regression to less enlightened times.

Villagers ought to be applauded for their ambition to heave themselves away from expectation, and then mourned for their lack of conviction which discards them back into it.

It feels churlish to criticise Everything Everything for trying different things, but all too often their efforts feel like lightweight flirtations with a style rather than committed explorations.

Anyone expecting some sort of lost treasure in this collection will be let down.

Fade is a sign of perseverance for the group, as the album perfectly details just what is so essential and appealing about the group, and why there will always be a place for these guys in the world of indie rock.

Lennon and Saunier interact with kindred sensibility.

These songs just lack that certain oomph to separate Free Energy from the thousands of groups who have sang about girls before.

He has come up with a gem of a record, heartfelt and true, that hopefully will get him some of the attention he richly deserves.

The Haunted Man is so effortlessly emotive that it seems to demand that we demand even more from it. Or at least, it would, if it weren't so easy to get lost in the many layers of these melodies and start thinking about the ghosts that Bat For Lashes is trying to chase away.

Sushi's main strength is the way it draws from so many strands of contemporary electronic music, but sounds like something else in its own right.