The opening song, "First Wave Intact," is nine minutes of churning Led Zeppelin-size rock. And it gets stranger from there.

The song, sentiment and anger remain the same.

You either get the concept or you don't, but those who do will feel tingly all the way down to the base of their dance-floor spines.

As concert recordings go, this is one of the best.

The joyful "I Love the '80s"-style disc fans have been yearning for since she took up yoga.

Embracing lonesome gothic-folk traditions, slight blues and country, this stark release is all about misery, hardship and stuff you'd rather not think about.

The biggest kicks come from the bedroom demos and odd covers of songs like "Blowin' in the Wind," but only the initiated will be able to stay awake long enough to hear them.

There's something totally irresistible about Antics: The air of mystery, the bleak but hopeful arrangements and the melodies so sharp and moving that they might inspire a night of heroic partying.

Beautiful pop symphonies that hit like a Louisville Slugger.

Many of these harrowing tunes, like "Lonesome Tears" and "Guess I'm Doing Fine" have the lonely blues feel of Beck's similar-sounding Mutations, and they definitely get better with repeated play.

A darkly shimmering, intensely brooding and exquisitely melancholy trip.

Sexsmith's best album yet.

Even the geeky ballads will put a smile on your face and a Bic lighter in your hand.

A leader of the old school teams up with an upstart from the new, and the classy result is the way-out antics of Handsome Boy Modeling School.

The group cuts through style in pursuit of substance, using Fever to Tell's slow-burning hit "Maps" as a jump-off point.

The Alternative to Love is tipped to be his big breakthrough album, and it's easy to see why. It's full of bright '70s power-pop choruses, infectious guitar riffs and the kind of laid-back breeziness that suggests most of these songs came to him in his sleep.

If last year's Under Construction was a little weird, then This Is Not a Test! is barking mad--in the greatest way.

The songs lack the emotional depth of Bewilderbeast, but the jaunty folk-pop is just so much fun.

The slick production will scare off longtime fans quicker than a cross repels a vampire, but for the rest of us, it's an easy introduction to a crew of weird guys who deserve to be heard.

Tunes such as "Escondite Ingles" work in any language, mixing mad Latin percussion with big rock riffs and Carribbean rhythms.

A slower album than most, Bomb eventually reveals itself as a work of genius, wrapping religion, love and life into emotionally thrilling gifts.

A most pleasurable guilty pleasure.

Imagine a dance floor where Steve Reich raves, Talking Heads reunite and disco divas shake their booty with pierced punks.

Rather than coming across as an unfriendly piece of self-indulgence--which may or may not have been the intention--her latest CD is quietly captivating.

Singer Sam Prekop sounds as delightfully laid-back as ever and John McEntire's production remains inventive, however, the combined effect is more limp than limber.

There's still plenty of spunk in to be found in this Sgt. Pepper-lite.

A less produced, totally honest and much more sparse collection than what fans were dancing to with Omnipop.

Interesting variations on classic pop music, delivered with fire and wisdom.