Grand National's main skill lies in their ability to twin their fine songs to tight electronic productions, striking the perfect midpoint between live organics and cool digital sequencing.

Ignore it at your peril. [Amazon UK]

Demon Days actually is even better than its predecessor.

Pay the Devil reiterates Morrison's own musical diversity and flair for making any song his own.

T.I. is at the top of his game, though, and he makes it heard.

There's an elegance to it that Prince fans, no strangers to pop music that's truly sublime, won't fail to appreciate.

Many, many gosh-darn dudes go in for the "vaguely weird indie-rock music with oblique lyrics" schtick, and yet it's still an utter joy to hear Dan Bejar do it.

Everywhere on Icky giant riffs leap and shout, with Flamenco horns and those eerie bagpipes and rhythmic shifts and Jack's impatient vocal kinetics, marking new territories even as the White Stripes again populate them with vintage ideas.

There's more Patti Smith in her than there is Patsy Cline.

Reverberate[s] with the wistfulness and introspection that have forever been his trademark.

Watershed has an intimate feel and a sophisticated sound that highlights the warmth in Lang’s voice, the maturity of her songwriting and the simple beauty of her arrangements.

Sure, it's a jumble, but, like the Beatles' White Album, it hangs together.

In a world gone mad, it's nice to know that some things--like Ministry's ability to tear up the floorboards with crushing efficiency--never change.

[The] consistent quality belies any notion of the extraneous.

Helm takes material from a variety of sources and makes it all his own.

While previous releases have found the pride of North Mississippi exploring various manifestations of their musical identity, on Electric Blue Watermelon they pull everything together and bring their artistic progression full circle.

No less than a half-dozen songs have hit potential.

Top to bottom, this may be Chesnutt's best effort since his 1996 disc About to Choke.

Rather than getting bogged down in concert-album fashion, Okonokos plays spanking new, almost re-studio recorded.

The Art of Love and War, on the re-launched Stax label, is as full-bodied an affair as this old-school-leaning, incessantly self-exploring diva has delivered.

Cease punctuates its magnitude among Sub Pop's top-drawer power elite (The Shins and Iron & Wine), asserting this Band of Horses' fast-rising run for the roses.

Overall, ADD demonstrates why Lewis blazed his way into AI's final round: He's out there, sure, but he's willing to reel it in enough to keep it real for the masses.

One of his best-balanced albums in years.

The drifting chords and soft voice are still in place, only now Johnson's instinct for melody has sharpened alongside his ability to self-edit.

Not so much a series of songs as it is a musical mood.

Shakira's bleating, biting voice is in fine form, and it gives the material an electric urgency.

The group has balanced its studio ambition with just the right amount of real world restraint, coming up with a disc that actually improves on the first while maintaining the trio's wry quirks.

Seven's Travels features some of Ant's most adventurous and assured production.

Less immediately ear-grabbing than the previous disc, this self-titled record nonetheless sinks in deeply after a mere handful of plays.

The disco-rock jitters come back soon enough with the next selection, 'Let Me In,' but there's no denying that the group's horizons have broadened. For every throwback Cure sound-alike, such as 'Give Up?,' there's a lush retort featuring the Abbey Road Orchestra-like 'Outta Heart.'

Scott weaves through the music like a woman who's taken her time contemplating what feelings ought to sound like.

Shotter's Nation, is surprisingly good and sonically upbeat (if not so much lyrically).

Even when he turns down the volume, he never tones down the creative intensity.

These are heartfelt songs: sometimes cheeky and occasionally heartbreaking.

With results that transcend category, Willis sounds like an artist renewed.

Fans of their live performances will appreciate its wall-to-wall rhythmic thrust and quirky textures, while aficionados and newcomers alike should welcome its surprising, seductive melodies and mature songwriting.

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.

The wide array of musical reference points show rap's sonic possibilities.

Once J.A.C. is in your player, it may be awhile before you take it out.

Elements of rock, folk, and blues pervade, and producer George Drakoulias (Black Crowes, the Jayhawks) stays out of the way, allowing Merritt’s voice to embody the songs, all 11 of which flow from start to finish, uninterrupted and primed for full-on stardom.

A smoldering rock and roll record that rivals John Lennon’s Plastic Ono Band and Nirvana’s In Utero in terms of unexpectedness.

Whether Finding Forever surpasses "Be" is a matter of individual, song-for-song taste: At worst, it's on par--a laudable accomplishment for a veteran now 15 years into his career.

On The True False Identity, Burnett substantiates his role as a composer and performer steeped in traditional American music.

This is his best since [Supreme Clientele].

Smith adds subtle layers of piano to the formidable 'Wild West Love Song' and the bluesy, Zeppelin-like 'Jesus in the Temple.' But even more newsworthy, her jazzy stylings have rubbed off on the Bielankos.

In a sea of pretenders, the Kills are capable of providing some genuine competition for the White Stripes.

A travel kaleidoscope of a neverending road passing by the window.

Most songs keep well away from a standard verse-chorus structure, with lyric and instrumental passages stitched together like some indie rock Frankenstein, but Minus the Bear keeps the melodies potent and the emotion high enough to prevent Planet of Ice from drifting into impenetrable shoe-gazer territory.

If there's one thing the R&B phenomenon demonstrates on Grown & Sexy, is that growing up is sexy.

The Pixies' alter ego alludes to Brood either candidly or implicitly in all 11 songs, veering far from the Nashville-and-Memphis tones of the last two Black albums for a return trip to his raucous roots.

Fortunately, this spare approach serves Thompson well because he's such a strong and varied songwriter plus a remarkably distinctive guitarist.

If there's a downside to this brilliant, if unlikely pairing, it's that Krauss's somber program could benefit from something a tad more libidinous or uptempo.

For the most part though, One Step Forward is more self assured and richly textured, nicely refining a winning formula that will no doubt enchant the many fans of its predecessor.

The nine tracks run a tad samey-same, but that's at least part of their charm. They and assert Boeckner anew as a prescient, skeptical voice, coarsely toned and draped in machine-sounding music even as he inveighs against the post-modern world--technology and urban living and traffic and so on.

The album boasts a handful of crowd-pleasing, party-starting cuts.... Yet more common are moments of startling beauty... and heavy doses of recrimination and regret.

Tambourine may not quite live up to the Dusty in Memphis comparisons, but it may very well wind up the album of Tift Merritt's career.

Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga is the mark of men confident enough to give their album one of the world's goofiest titles.

Coheed and Cambria's first three outings were smart, adventurous affairs that didn't eschew accessibility and No World for Tomorrow proves no exception.

DeVaughan simultaneously sounds like every soul singer who has raised bumps on your arms and none of them at all, which is to say he's an artist no matter what banner he flies.

The songs on his debut album, Charmed and Strange are quirky and inventive.

Make up for lost time and embrace these wonderful smartypants-es today.

Her strongest [album] by far.

As usual, the band never takes itself too seriously, crafting melodies around a lively, vigorous cast of characters that practically come to life.

While [Finn's] odd and humorous rants are essentially compelling, they wouldn't be half as engrossing if his backing group... didn't smack up such a glorious din, scabrous punk rock swagger dolled up with classic hard rock power chords.

His limber voice and way with a lyric serve him well.

Here he shows more quirky imagination and inventive musicianship than on any of his earlier efforts.

Twice is a sweet, mercurial foray into lip-quivering American indie-rock infused with the blissful aroma of Creation-style ambience and the woody scent of paisley-clad cosmic country.

Mixes arena rock in the vein of an Alice in Chains with the aggression of Pantera.

Those who are intrigued by electronica but find it's too chilly for their tastes would be wise to check out Psapp.

Electric Six is the most exciting band to come tumbling out of Detroit since Kiss.

While the material seems to document the end of a relationship and the hope for romantic renewal, there's a freewheeling playfulness to the arrangements.

Longtime fans might take it like a kick to the head, but this band is clearly moving toward bigger things.

While Albarn still has an ear for a melody, without Coxon's guitars to subvert them, most of these songs sound like the work of a new band.

Occasionally evokes the feeling of a '70s Bill Withers classic, while bringing inflections of Zero 7 and Alicia Keys to her grooves as well.

The band parlays its tuneful edification into an experimental collage, bouncing between art school rock, guitar-heavy psychedelia and keyboard hippiedom, yet interconnected by lyrics that are both shrewd and satisfying.

This album solidifies their standing as one of the most endearingly idiosyncratic bands on the American scene.

The best evidence arrives two tracks in: though 'Bring It On' features the soothing sitar of Anishka Shankar, it bashes its way through the speakers as though fueled by kryptonite. It is bad-ass, in a word. And so is this album.

The quintet moves easily from straight ahead, if slightly-fractured rockers, to fine slices of cerebral sonics.

Trash's capriciousness and experimental willingness are what gave Malkmus an audience in the first place--and what promise to keep it coming back for more.

Accelerate puts the 2007 Rock And Roll Hall Of Fame group once again firmly behind the wheel of alternative rock, a genre R.E.M. helped invent.

Justice does appear to be that rare breed of dance artist equally capable of stimulating the body and the mind, though neither Richard James nor the Basement Jaxx need fear this act.

Few bands in bluegrass can match the virtuosity of Union Station's interplay, but the artistry of Alison Krauss transcends genre.

Viscerally contemporary, Necessary Evil harnesses youthful exuberance from across the charts, and Harry and her team of producers and songwriting partners do radio-ready rock, pop, and soul-lite with à la mode savvy to spare.

Meltdown is easily Ash's best album since 1977; this is the sound of a band becoming interesting again. [Amazon UK]

Songs of Mass Destruction is a sterling, rock-solid, expert example.

You might think that an album about child abuse would be hard to listen to, but as always, hearing Darnielle's lyrics is an honor and a privilege.

Ten years later, they've regrouped with Norton for a disc that's more sophisticated and diverse, if a tad less rockin'.

What could have been a curiosity is instead a hallmark in the catalog of each artist.

Campbell's second extraordinary release of 2006.

The result is an CD that sounds like it's aspiring to be something far more ambitious: a DVD, a theatrical production, even a time machine.

The amazing thing is not that there are still so many unreleased tunes in the solo Pollard/ GBV vaults, but how engaging this stuff is despite fidelity that at times is atrocious.

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.

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

Moments of playful mixing magic are at times followed by baffling inanity.

An album that should appeal to fans of Weller and the original legends alike.

He continues to take chances and not all of them pay off.

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.

His performance throughout is solidly heartfelt.