Black Dice are the perpetually esoteric older Crumb brother Charles: inscrutable, agoraphobic, undeniably brilliant but just as undeniably demented. All descriptions apply to their fifth album, with each track bursting at the seams with warped sounds.

Eagerly filling the recent vacuum of great U.K. guitar bands, this London foursome draws on the Jesus & Mary Chain tradition of sweet early '60s pop'n'roll married to sour punk noise.

Unlike much of the current post-Animal Collective psychedelia, there's a palpable, full-bodied force and galloping beat behind the bliss.

Just as winningly sloppy as its source material. [Nov 2006, p.104]

With Wiley's vocal attack as sharply acerbic as ever, 100% Publishing is a boldly independent declaration.

Sheets is Campbell's hallucination of a cozy English garden party. [Jan 2007, p.94]

John Shade moves with composure and ease through arch, almost dour indie pop ("The Believers") as well as joyous dollops of Of Montreal–inspired electro pop.

Underworld is freed up to focus on crafting memorable tunes that hark back to their electronica heyday, as well as more personal, coherent lyrics. Earnest emotions surprisingly suit these dance-floor surrealists.

Featuring Farfisa, sax, strings, anything but loud guitar, Dancing Backwards doesn't even try, and that's its virtue.

The results vary: "Lost Weekend" is some kind of romantic peak, while the Lennon-esque "I Am the Psychic" is not.

A science fiction romance dedicated to the triumphs and disappointments of the modern world, the Geometrid has all the D.I.Y beats and endearing loops of Looper's first record, Up A Tree. This time around, though, Looper take the grade-school storytelling groove of that record and retool it space-age stylee.

Pairing dreamy synths and tight riffs, the result is confident and exhilarating.

It's not a radical departure--there's no 'Kid A' in their future--but rather an engaging sidestep for a band that does triumphantly normal better than almost anyone.

Derulo’s latest, Everything Is 4, proves he’s a workhorse, with possibly even (gulp) a vision.

Their hooks sink deep, but you'll be more likely to hum than sing along, simply because their words so often disappear into the ether like messages traced with your fingertips on a fogged mirror.

With Heartbeat Radio, Lerche aligns all his identities: Gentlemanly melodies glide across elegant guitars and High Llama Sean O’Hagan’s swelling string arrangements.

This is a more mature nod to the bubbly pop that established her fame. And it's a statement from a woman who's come into her own, and who won't be going anywhere that isn't worth her while. We could all do worse than to follow her lead.

Ignore the lyrics, Spears sounds even more like a programmed Britbot than on 2007's Blackout.

Free Energy know that what they're emulating is about bliss not meaning, and they're savvy enough to embrace pop simplicity without condescending to it.

Nix the emo sea-chantey stuff and these two CDs... would be pretty excellent. [Mar 2006, p.95]

Over 38 taut minutes, these New York kids reflect the mirror-ball gleam of primo INXS and "Emotional Rescue"–era Rolling Stones onto the lives of today's young, rich, and wasted.

It's such a confident display that you barely notice the English-as-a-second-language lyrics. [Nov 2003, p.117]

Strangely enough, Utah Saints have never sounded better... [Sep 2001, p.163]

At times, it's as if he's looking over Rivers Cuomo's shoulder during a chem exam. [Jul 2003, p.110]

Her enthusiasm immediately leaps from the grooves, but this debut also reveals an emotional and musical range her neo-retro peers lack.

Player Piano's handcrafted tales of loneliness and bad romance draw quiet power from Hawk's charmingly reedy vocals, while the layered synths and other scruffy keyboards evoke subliminal longings and anxieties.

To compensate for the loss of [drummer Jerry Fuchs], the band gets by with help from former Outhud/!!! alchemist Justin Vandervolgen, who mixed the album to accentuate its disco grooves (see the title track), and Zombi's Steve Moore, who added synth arpeggiations to the epic arc of "Oaxaca."

The toughest cuts are still the early singles. But shorty's in the process of becoming something bigger than a hot, patois-spitting grime MC. [Nov 2006, p.101]