His philosophizing is rarely twee, and his fine-oaked voice gives new authority to his pastis-and-mushroom-fueled musings.

the Waits of Glitter and Doom Live values theatricality as much as storytelling. As on his previous live album, 1988’s "Big Time," Waits often borders on playfulness.

At a certain point, the xx need to turn off that reverb pedal and learn to sing above a whisper - but I'll be damned if they haven't worked their magic again.

Ejstes seems more concerned with texture and feel than with hooks. Translation: it all sounds better once you’re stoned.

The reason Father, Son, Holy Ghost is so uniquely, imperfectly swell is because the band plainly give fuck-all about convention or stylistic uniformity.

Whereas their 2006 disc, "Moonlighting," was across-the-board impressive but a tad monotonous, their latest hinges on memorable and unpredictable style jumps.

The Scottish outfit have delivered again with jangly pop full of skittering guitars, self-flagellating lyricism, and whimsy under a pall of darkness that no amount of the big spotlight can dispel.

There might be something deeper rolling around here than "There's nothing that will change me/There's nothing sure as shit" ("Bring the Fight"). Probably not, but if you want to bang your head, this will do the trick.

The melange of old sonic idioms doesn't say anything remarkable about their sources or feel particularly original. White Denim sound ready to craft a groundbreaking record--D just isn't it.

Exploding Head is less an interpretation of a forgotten sound than a restoration of an abandoned mission. Even if you've heard it all before, you certainly haven't heard the end of it.

Middle Cyclone is her most fearless and arresting record, ruthlessly composed and beautifully recorded.

These numbers are soaked in a disorienting futurist nostalgia that epitomizes Trans Am’s ironic humor and their ability to transform leaden clichés into gold.

Every so often a bright, nerdy, nasal-voiced and infallibly catchy male songwriter appears to less critical notice than he deserves for his remarkably concrete lyrics and thoughtful melodies.

For the most part, Velociraptor! is a stellar representation of K-sabes magnificence and dexterity.

National Ransom isn't the midlife masterpiece that obsessives have been pining for, but its finer points are worth seeking out, in all their sepia-tinted glory.

Even though damn near every third song sounds designed to sell overpriced sweaters at the Gap, the nectar at the heart of this album is worth the roughage you have to chew through to get there.

The warmth and the easy familiarity enable The Trials of Van Occupanther to stand on its own.

Sublime production quality and danceability aside, this mix scores as a chronicle of American pop music that elicits a dual layer of nostalgia: the first for the sampled songs themselves, the second for the thrill of the novelty of early mash-ups.

There are synths that buzz, synths that whiz, synths that glow in the dark--the luxurious texture may put you in an electro-psych trance. But Young Galaxy are greedy. Not satisfied with being masters of atmosphere, they also aim for hooks--most of which are not sticky enough to jolt you back to the waking world.

Huismans has always fought the good fight in his attempt to fuse dubstep with comparably hard-nosed genres of electronic music, and Fever is his most fully realized effort yet.

Ironically, this patchwork of 12-inch singles is Kieran Hebden's most delectable album-as-album.

Any of these songs would have been a charttopper in the day. Should be now, too, but that’s another story.

The Eternal is a fun, superficial tangent, disappointing in its regressiveness but enjoyable as long you don't examine it too closely.

They’ve gotten good at re-creating in the studio the sound of a dingy rock venue in full throb.

Every song, no matter how familiar, is transformed by one detail or another.

The album is full of this kind of mish-mash, but it never feels forced or too clever. In fact, it's the apparent lack of thought that makes the whole thing work.

Mostly, though, I Will Be is a flawlessly light album that floats to the top of a lo-fi pond overcrowded with sinking debris.

Fuller than usual of slow songs and piano ballads, One Life Stand is their mellowest, most thoughtful effort so far — which means it carries the risk of also being their most boring. (Contrast is one of their secret weapons, though it didn't seem like such a big deal until now.) But keep listening: slow to reveal, its charm is just as slow to fade.