As Blur, Morrissey, and even Oasis learned the hard way, engaging in parochial social criticism — as much of Yours Truly does with its references to youth clubs and housing estates — doesn’t connect with more than a cult of Anglophiles here in the US.

Strangelet... seems like the work of a man who hasn’t aged a day since he figured out what kind of music he wanted to make.

Here the material has the swagger and toughness of loud, sloppy rock.

The heart is here, but the lyrics have him sounding like a man who’s turned healing into a systematic process — a man who’s heard too much kind advice or maybe sat through too much therapy.

There’s something oddly accessible about the mess the duo make on Why Bother?

It’s more polished and sonically ambitious. But it’s not a major departure.

Seven great tunes... and... three dull ones.

It delivers on the promise of Louden Up, with infectious beats and a kitchen-sink approach.

Respectable, serious, accomplished and... no fun.

Lynn Teeter Flower... delivers on the promise of 11:11.

It is her most authoritative and cogent statement.

Luna fans will be pleased.

Those vocal harmonies are used to good effect in the blue-eyed-soul tune 'Alaska.' But 'Die Die Die,' a slow and raggedy piece of psychedelia complete with funereal organ but thrown askew by out-of-place handclaps, is far too taken in by its own gloom.

If there are a few dull moments, that’s all part of recording an album that functions like one extended, magnificent achievement of a song.

It’s still too lightweight to win any hip-hop race, but at least you’ll want to add K-OS’s name to your mental checklist as you peruse those small-rock-club listings.

The Cost... captures them at their best.

If you’re not in the mood for it, Perkins’s uncut melancholy can be a lot to swallow. Still, this is one of the prettiest bummers around.

Loaded with the sort of multi-tiered melodies you find in the early work of XTC.

The son has a strong, pleasing voice and an easy facility with the sort of æthereal, filigree guitar picking that served the father so well.

The disc’s best stuff — such as the hard-rocking opener, “Can You Feel It?” — makes it easy to get swept up in his limitless enthusiasm.

Their third album sticks to the Neil-Young-meets-Gram-Parsons folk rock of their first two but finds Sykes and [Phil] Wandscher experimenting with rockier blues and psychedelia.

The songs start running together till they’re not distinct tracks so much as guitars and bass and drums and yelpy indie vocals that happen to have been recorded at the same time.

Too good to hate, not exciting enough to love, she still makes most of what’s out there sound like phony baloney.

Sure, you can wonder whether there’s a need for Youth Group with so many bands trying to replicate the success of Coldplay and Death Cab for Cutie, but Casino Twilight Dogs is worth a listen.

Yeah, the alternate/alternating track sequence is screwy for the first seven songs or so — Deerhunter build momentum only to lose it. But it gives the album’s backside something of a black-and-white-to-Technicolor moment.

Visitations finds Clinic four albums into their career, but they launch each new tune with the unhinged spirit of a band who are just discovering the power of rock.

For the most part an exercise in Prince-like electro-funk, full of squelchy keyboard fuzz and chicken-scratch guitar noise and absurdly complicated falsetto harmonies.

Woke Myself Up is smart, arresting, and nimble; at 30 minutes, the only real disappointment is that it’s over too soon.