As an addition to a remarkable oeuvre, then, Working On A Dream has its worthwhile moments, but it's as a snapshot of a window of hope from an increasingly seasoned cultural commentator that it borders on the essential.

The Benders sound buttoned-up and clean-cut, infinitely pleasant and inoffensive, one suggestive song title (Pleasure Sighs) notwithstanding.

Overall the band carries off a convincing sense of menace and rocks hard at the same time. It may not be what fans of the original Faust would expect but it's satisfying in a different way, while still maintaining the arch sensibility that made them legendary if not exactly famous.

Even if it does cover too much ground, Clear Shot is another fine effort from a talented band who tend to get caught adrift in their own ways.

Those expecting a more swaggering form of vintage soul will find themselves awfully disenchanted. But for the most part, it still holds together as a serene meditation that vacillates with a refined grace and beauty.

What For? is an ultimately perplexing collection of songs--a mishmash of Bundick’s best and worst musical ideas, but nevertheless a glimpse into an artist who is unafraid to shift into new sonic territory.

What they’ve given us is an exquisitely polished blur, enjoyable at times, mildly challenging at others, but nothing that you couldn’t feel comfortable piping in as background for the Sunday barbeque with the Petersons.

If the new direction disappoints some old fans, though, it’s hard to escape the fact that Vanderslice is an original songwriter with a vision for his material, even if that vision isn’t clear.

here isn't enough variation on here to retain its limited intrigue, as Lortz relies too much on his consistently unremarkable songwriting; ultimately, it's a forgettable record.

If you like your pop music with harmonies and heart then the Explorers Club could well have recorded the soundtrack to your summer.

It's clear that Strange Negotiations is not a wholly secular piece, but Bazan is clearly moving in that direction.

It’s hard not to admire anything PS I Love You puts out simply because it’s done with such a sense of sincerity and craftsmanship.

All that said, it’s only about a third as bad as it sounds. It’s fairly tolerable as far as extreme self indulgence goes.

It boasts some of the band's most emotionally charged material, but just like all their efforts, it requires bearing some stiff, docile guitar melodies to discover some of its finer points.

Hilton tries to be many things, oftentimes all at once, though sometimes it works.

There are some more subdued moments (the quiet standout Stumbling Bee) but on the whole Extreme Witchcraft is a frustratingly stodgy affair.

Our Ill Wills surpasses the band’s 2005 debut "Howl Howl Gaff Gaff" because it takes modest chances and expands on the band’s strengths, doing so cordially all the while.

Hiperasia is an incoherent mess, sure, but a fun one, too, splattering all kinds of disparate, colorful sounds in the hopes that some of it will stick.

This album then delivers anger, honesty and arrogance, all in sporadic scatter-gun fashion: the overriding feeling is confused, uncertain, often unreasonable, but ultimately well intentioned.

A lot of the time, this album doesn't do enough to sound much more than merely pleasant.

Though not his strongest effort by any means, Fantasy proves that his songs can soar even if he dials it back.

With Frankie Rose and The Outs, her first self-accredited rock music excursion, Rose predictably weaves femininity and cherubic harmonics with garage rock, resulting in a pretty, albeit somewhat tired, retreading of familiar waters.

Passive Me, Aggressive You is undoubtedly a pop album, and an impressive one at that. There's a nice blend of intensity and honesty here, which TH&F will do well to maintain in their future career.

With the exception of the very syrupy Taiyo No Baka, (an apparently "dark" song despite its relatively chipper demeanor), Noise fuses the best aspects of every genre Boris tackles, perpetuating their evolution with the promise of aggressiveness, distortion and all things wonderfully “loud.”

Fortunately, The Thermals like to venture into unfamiliar territory--songs sound more spacious when they need the breathing space; bass lines will override a song when guitars ought to blend in. And then there are the lyrical themes--listeners take their so-called simplicity for granted, provided they come up to the requisite standard of conceptual excellence.

The vocals are obscured, but nothing else really meshes.

Saturday Night is a record that is almost misanthropic in its progression, and an intriguing insight into Tim Darcy the artist.

Nothing here really rivals For "Emma" but this is a lovely and worthy EP.