Picaresque is dense and complicated, but only rarely threatens to tip under its own weight.

Let Us Never Speak of It Again is the sticky, panting, sexually deviant album Louden Up Now should have been.

One of the most playful end-of-the-world concept albums ever created.

At nearly two hours long, Church Gone Wild/Chirpin Hard is anything but a precise masterstroke. It is, however, a flawed, majestic account of what can happen when a band splits down the middle to compose on their own terms, with no artistic differences and no coalescing of ideals.

Listening to frontmen Jason Hill and Brian Kareig chop-up every '60s and '70s rock 'n' roll cliché, remorselessly blending Iggy, Mick, Bowie, Marc Bolan and Johnny Rotten into a light, frothy frappé of sex, violence and coked-up come-ons is, at the very least, consistently amusing -- and even better, surprisingly tasty.

These songs are reminders of a time when death wasn't a distant bogeyman but a mundane reality of everyday life. Alasdair Roberts's versions are somewhat modernized, but utterly immediate.

Shrewdly combines peculiar electronics with melody without ever letting either genre gain the upper hand.

An album riddled with unbreathable energy and high-strung despair.

Other People has a serene, thoughtful loveliness that builds with every listen.

The songs on Fallen Leaf Pages are all played at roughly the same glacial pace and share a very mellow, thoughtful and regret-filled vibe. Some listeners will find them repetitive, even tedious.

Blending the real and the imagined, live performance and tape manipulation, traditional instruments and skewed found sounds, Akron/Family carves an eccentrically lovely niche for itself in the ever-expanding psych-folk landscape.

Origin Vol. I rocks pretty hard without asking much of listeners; it's difficult to be disappointed in a record that's so clearly joyful and energetic.

Naturally, this much theatrical -- but never facetious -- pomp and prettiness can be heavy, but it's never overbearing. Surprisingly, given the album's gravitas, it's relatively easy to enjoy in a single sitting. And another after that.

The 90 degree turns between tracks are endearing, like a cool mix-tape -- not cause for head scratching and folded arms.

It is unsettling, starkly beautiful, intricate and minimalist all at once, and if it lacks the immediate impact of Fugazi, its aura lingers long after it's over.

More balls than brains, but it's that swaggering, careless spirit that gives Kasabian its razor-sharp edge.

Sure, Hersh could be your mom, but only if your mom routinely blows out big stacks of Marshall amps.

They've traded amped-up aggression for seething sexuality without losing any of their muscular bite.

Vocalists Torquil Campbell and Amy Millan connect with their audience with the breathy ease of scenester storytellers, sketching out their tales in economical but well-chosen strokes, and the tunes behind them, invariably elegant, are often deceptively cheeerful.

Let Them Drink may not be as accessible to the mainstream as the band might have hoped, but The Capitol Years' updated blend of classic sounds is an addictive and refreshing change.

Making the effort to unravel the tightly packed layers and unconventional (even by 'Lab standards) song structures can seem downright daunting, regardless of how long you've been following Sadier and how many of her EPs you've devoured.

There's enough strong material on The Story of My Life to score Carter time on CMT and get her in good with the Borders crowd, cementing her cross-genre appeal.

While there are plenty of MTV2-ready tunes, the record doesn't bear much repetition.

With Frances the Mute, the Mars Volta have unfurled a big and bold artistic statement... Unfortunately, that bold artistic statement is rife with pomposity and glimpses of prog-rock at its most horrifically self-indulgent.

Dignity and Shame is sparse and vulnerable, showcasing nothing but Bachmann's bittersweet musings and his deep growl of a voice. It is by no means a unique album, but it's an effective one.

The album certainly isn't a waste of your money if you aren't already a fan. This is one band that clearly doesn't save their lesser material for obscure release. Lost Marbles and Exploding Evidence functions very, very well as a weird little LP.

Admittedly, not all of Cloud's most ambitious tracks work ou.... But in the end, it's Garnier's ambition, combined with his talent and professionalism, that make this an album worth seeking out.

Heart Like A River is a full-throated and diverse expression of the songwriting talents of Daniel Littleton and Elizabeth Mitchell, though bassist Karla Schickele's two contributions are nothing to sneeze at, either.