In the process of refining their sound, Dressy Bessy appear to have sacrificed a little too much of their uniqueness.

So infectiously content are the Oranges that they can make even the most jaded listener bop his/her head or tap his/her foot to their power pop structures -- but this is also their downfall.

Annie has delivered a solid pop record that does a lot of things well, but -- and this is the important thing -- that's what we should expect from all of our pop records.... Anniemal isn't a high-water mark; it's a benchmark.

Man-Made is among the finest collections of pop songs any of us will hear all year.

Not just for followers, Minimum-Maximum is perfect for the old-school, drawing a new crowd of robot poppers and maybe convert a few disbelievers.

As much as it hurts to admit it, not everybody will get so much out of Smog's latest understated masterpiece.

Like Madlib or MF DOOM, Four Tet is at the crest of the electronica/hip-hop wave, forcing the genre's evolution into new realms and making everyone else look like amateurs in the process.

The impromptu feel is often charming and sometimes campy, but always sincere.

It's a perfect summer record.

Rarely has such a painfully awkward adolescence led to such B-boy-ish eloquence, but as he always has, Wolf makes fronting his own band look effortless.

As with anything, some listeners will already have sickened of seeing the words "dance" and "punk" next to one another -- but for the rest of us, this is an excellent new chapter in one of the young century's most interesting musical trends.

Again raises the standard for thoughtful, well-crafted pop.

Kidnapped By Neptune is one of those rare albums that's both sexy and dirty, and isn't guilty of trying to be either.

The intimacy is startling. The introspection is as charming as it is insightful.

Separation Sunday stands a chance of being one of 2005's true classics.

With Teeth's biggest surprise is how immediately gratifying the majority of its songs are.

Totally brilliant, mind-meltingly good, and as different from Secret Wars as possible, except that both of these albums could change your life.

There's a feeling of constant evolution over the course of any given track; subtle changes in swing, intonation and attack let you in on the secret that this is no automaton, but a living, breathing entity that's being brought into existence.

The remaining songs are uniformly well crafted, but they aren't necessarily going to please the people who come looking for more of the old "Jerk It Out" magic.

The Sunset Tree feels like Darnielle's most personal record to date, and it's certainly his most immediately accessible, musically speaking.

A unique indie-prog masterpiece that owes as much to Hendrix as it does to Sonic Youth.

It shakes the foundations of our music-consuming habits and plays with our genre expectations; it fucks with our minds a bit, just for kicks, and, more importantly, liberates us from the pernicious tyranny of monotony.

It's all very sweeping, operatic and inviting.

The relentless sweetness may be off-putting to some... but it'll be difficult for all but the most jaded listeners to avoid being charmed by Of Montreal's appealing melodies and whimsical innocence-recaptured lyrics.

Painstakingly crafted, casually baroque music for people who get off a little bit on feeling blue.

Let There Be Morning isn't designed to bowl you over with its size and scope; rather, it's a quietly compelling, lushly orchestrated affair that slowly but surely melts its way into your heart.

Elkington's wry, sodden compositions are enlivened with sparse yet crisp instrumentation and steady melodies. Imagine shoegazer tendencies jolted by the cattle prod of Midwestern edgy folk rock.

Don't look to Open Season to get your heart pounding or your blood flowing; it trades in less cathartic experiences.