Ozomatli serve up a rhythmically seething musical mélange that serves as virtual mirror to the dizzying cultural contradictions at the heart of their Los Angeles hometown.

Shock Value is a far-reaching and ambitious disc; a masterpiece, even, in its own way.

Their multiple piercings, shaved heads, and abundant tattoos have them labeled a punk band, but on [Revival], Good Charlotte... fall much more under the umbrella of 1970s arena rock and mainstream ballads.

True, LCD's music is not for everyone, which may have something to do with why their fans love them as they do. If you fall into the latter category, however, Silver is gold.

We Were Dead... is denser than its predecessor with tunes that seem willfully harder to penetrate.

Making no palpable effort to crack the conventional with overflowing melodies and love songs, Bird instead latches up the intellect to create tiny packages of literature that make always leave you thinking--and snapping your fingers at the same time.

He's an expert at creating mesmerizing, sophisticated pop.

Her strongest [album] by far.

While it may be impossible for this Son Volt to ever reach the pinnacle of their 1995 debut, no one can accuse Jay Farrar of going through the motions.

If the new album goes farther in advocating a political conscience--"On with the Song" takes jabs at the jingoistic rubes who dissed the Dixie Chicks, while "Why Shouldn't We" insists we'll have worthy heroes in office again one day--it largely invokes the same quiet, warm, and conversational tone as its predecessor.

Easily their best album since 2000's Red Line.

Imagine the Long Winters if they were far more in love with the synth and guitar textures of the '80s than the precious pop sounds of the '70s and you'd have this, a hard to pigeonhole album which greatly rewards multiple listens.

West may well be her best album. It is easily her most musically adventurous, and often her most lyrically inspired.

Jesse Sykes is hard to pin down--and that's a good thing indeed.

Her most musically diverse and accessible album yet.

An album that is as fiercely imaginative as any the Sacramento-based group has released before.

Although not quite as towering an achievement as 2002's Grammy-nominated Walking with Thee, Visitations keeps Clinic at the tip of modern popular music's shrinking creative vanguard.

It's not Blur, the Clash, Fela, the Verve, or Gorillaz. It's more than just names on albums.

As always, the directness of Doiron's writing and performing is subtly compelling.

The 11 songs on their second album have their own separate identity, with a diversity of colors and influences putting the Earlies in the company of such contemporaries as Mercury Rev, the Polyphonic Spree, and even, occasionally, Beck.

Hersh has made great personal strides since branching off on her own.

He sounds rushed, like he doesn't have time for too much tinkering. This is a good thing.

This is his State of the Union address, with guitars that chime like the Byrds heralding sentiments that recall the socially-conscious 1960s, yet sound all the more pertinent today.

The freshness of the arrangements appeals throughout.

As intoxicating as a Brazilian breeze and ironic as a David Lynch night in L.A., the Los Angeles duo the Bird and the Bee make a soothingly hip, deliriously cool blend of pop.

Stirrat and Sansone revisit the immaculate production of their previous work, but with greater cohesion and broader instrumentation.

Few modern songstresses work a beat better.

Hell Hath No Fury isn't as well-assembled as Lord Willin' or as spontaneous as Clipse's lauded mix-CDs from 2005 but it is coldly efficient in knocking out 12 songs backed with superbly dark and sparse tracks by the Neptunes.