Monday at the Hug & Pint is Arab Strap's best record, and should land on every critic's 2003 top 10 list.

Standout tracks include the Breeders' "Wicked Little Town (Hedwig Version)," the Polyphonic Spree's "Wig in a Box," Spoon's Stones-y take on "Tear Me Down" and the whisper-to-a-scream romp that Yoko Ono and Yo La Tengo let loose on "Hedwig's Lament / Exquisite Corpse."

At times, Rice definitely over-emotes, leaving behind any sense of subtlety in his delivery. But at his best, on songs like "Volcano" and "The Blower's Daughter", he hits upon a perfect blend of warmth and expansiveness.

On a purely musical level, Twoism is more essential to me than 1998's well-known Music Has The Right to Children.

While the group treads similar musical and thematic ground to [Nick] Cave, the results are nowhere near as ominous.

On first listen [it's] profoundly unimpressive.... What each successive listen reveals, however, is a deftly understated and maturing pop craftsmanship.

For the most part, Outside Closer fails to separate itself from the pack of glitch-rock albums it now must share the market with.

May very well be Dirty Three's greatest accomplishment to date.

The concept does start to wear thin towards the end of the CD, and the recontextualized product is inherently one sided: it's the Beatles' soundtrack that is made to dance around Jay-Z's unedited verses.

It's an outstanding piece of work -- literate, catchy, and emotional.

Twice is a summery, psychedelic treat.

TV on the Radio relies more on the influence of eighties prog-pop than the typical Brooklyn grit, which is definitely refreshing.

While the record isn't necessarily an instant classic, the unabashed embrace of simple pop sensibilities, both old and new, make it a record that is hard to stop listening to.

Impressive despite its occasional lack of maturity.

If gripes were to be made, one could argue with Crow's length, which at 74 minutes may be a little more whimsy than one can handle.

The New Year here occasionally let loose with a decidedly unreserved frenzy that is a joy to hear.

Boards of Canada seems to be able to release albums pre-aged, so that all the things that might have bugged you a couple years ago now sounds like another part of why it's a classic.

The band shows an incredible level of bravado on their album of fun summer hymns, but has a hard time breaking through the barrier the lackluster vocals create.

The results are predictably wonderful.

If you are not in the right mood, Strange Geometry sounds like pretty melodies, plenty of atmosphere, and not a whole let else.

If you're an Old 97's fan you've been waiting for this. If you're not, you just might be when it's all said and done.

The only thing that holds this collection down at all is the fact that you're listening to it at home, and, no matter how good your audio setup, it will never come close to the band's famously loud and beautiful live sets. And, at that, this comes close.

The tunes hop as often as they whimper, with stand-up bass, slap-happy drums and wordless vocals fleshing out the reverb-rich arrangements.

The album feels underwhelming.

For those who prefer less academic wave crushing and more pop elements in their electronic music, Player, Player pleasantly delivers the goods.

Gelb creates masterful songs for the ages.

Your Blues is some kind of masterpiece, the work of a truly original and iconoclastic talent.

In a time when consistency is rare, and integrity even rarer, the Sea and Cake have made an album that highlights where they've been.

A beguiling blend of astute social commentary and first-rate music that rocks, weeps and testifies.

Mason's songs wander from folk to rock and dip their toes into country, but sound fresh, and never boring.

The sound, which blends a little of the pastoral, John Fahey-influenced digital music with calm, focused songwriting, gives a sense of romance to a fairly limited musical vocabulary.

Of Montreal have safely entrenched themselves as an institution in the indie rock world, and Satanic Panic shows them as dependable as ever for some of the best pop songs around.

Occasionally, you might wish for a more generous-sounding lead vocal or concise song structure, but 10th Avenue Freakout is populated with stimulating, rather than easily accessible, music.

Zedek somehow twists her troubled characters and haunting tunes into things of beauty.

Starting with track six, Laughter's Fifth verges on unstoppable.

Coomes' blatant, almost hilarious, display of his guitar mastery is fun to hear. His solos and fills ride front-and-center, perfect and expansive and insane.

This is at once a record to rock out to, a record to contemplate, and a record to immediately buy if you think it impossible for a band this well-hyped to defy their own press.

Repeated listens... reveal the album's complexity and highlight how far the band has come in the four years since their last release.

A lucid and diverse record.

Is Malkmus treading water? Well, maybe. But despite the complaints of those fans who can’t let Pavement go, he’s still making valid, adventurous and - most of all - fun music.

It's endearingly all over the place, but depressingly self-referential.

An almost uniformly excellent outing.

Adherence to stock chord progressions, interminably chugging guitars and a dearth of new ideas since 2000's The Sophtware Slump gives the impression that Sumday is Grandaddy-by-rote.

Their best album since 1996's brilliant Under the Bushes, Under the Stars.

Dramatic and dark.

Despite the fact that Prekop isn't really pushing himself on this album, it's a near perfect distillation of his art.

The result is a tad muddled, with the valleys unfortunately outnumbering the peaks.

No Wow is pure sex, pulsating blues-based rock and roll from start to finish.

A more savage, flawless and impressive sound could not have emanated from these Austrian-born, Chicago-fed composers of laptop jazz.

There is a shortage of pathos, and relatively little ventured musically and lyrically from a songwriting team responsible for some of the most tortured, searching music of recent years.

Mice Parade is an original, hovering over multiple traditions without disturbing any of them.

Harcourt would do himself well by spending a bit more time on his lyrics; a lot of the time it sounds as though he's just filling in the space between choruses.

To be sure, there is an ironic smirk clinging to much of Who Will Cut Our Hair..., but there is also the subtle beatings of unpretentious sympathy and maverick potential.

It's not always pretty, but even the mistakes have a remarkable charm.

The krang of album’s past seems more an afterthought as the band explores the natural textures of layered guitar and lumbering bass tracks.

Room on Fire is a passionate, 32-minute burning effigy of the seemingly insurmountable expectations fans and critics had for the record.

This is the natural and logical epiphany of three musicians who have been getting to know one another for some time. It's also a damn good album.

When Pause came out in 2001, that sounded like an artist at his peak. But get this: He's still at his peak, and the view is no less scintillating, crisp, and sweet, rolling with drums and shaded by clouds of horn reverb and file-sharing swish.

Immediately more accessible than their last effort.

Summer Sun doesn't have the collective impact of its predecessors, a problem typically attributable to song selection, sequencing and mixing.

Has more to do with the Shangri Las' "Leader of the Pack", '60s sock hop and the Jesus Mary Chain than it does with Television, downtown Manhattan and pre-treated denim.

While In The Reins bears the unmistakable imprint of both Calexico and Iron and Wine, these collaborators donâ??t seem to be interested in playing it all that safe.

Dents and Shells matches the intensity and concision of Impasse, while adding an organic, spontaneous feel to the proceedings.

In the band's able hands, the music still sounds dangerous, unpredictable, and potent.

Where previous releases have been occasionally bogged down in somnambulistic reverie, the majority of The Earth Is Blue feels light as air.

Here we get the full range of peaks and valleys from Martina's vocals, but the songs are a bit syrupy for those prepared for the menace of Maxinquaye-era Tricky.

Throwing Muses is an exhilarating ride that manages to marry the helter-skelter rhythmic pulse of the band's first few records with the poppier sensibilities of their nineties releases.

Somewhere between Beth Orton and Iron and Wine, Molina's music feels like it's been pulled direct from the surrounding air; a spring breeze given shape.

An essential addendum to the Galaxie 500 story.

Far less lucid than his past work, even by Animal Collective standards, all nine untitled compositions reflect a man whose soul is adrift.

No Earthly Man demonstrates that all the glitz and studio production techniques used in making many records aren't really necessary to craft a compelling document.

The results are stunning.

When the songs work – it's some of the best material Faithfull has ever produced. But when they don't – you're left... falling asleep in the car.

Though it is at times a forbidding and daunting listen, piercing through the dense thicket of sounds reveals a wealth of melody and funk underlining Autechre's irregular electro rhythms.

Songs walk a delicate tightrope between the brain and the hips, and the libidinal release of the beat is denied, suggested, suppressed, and finally let loose to sweat it out.

All told, it's another triumph for a band whose creative peak seems to defy gravity with each passing year.

While the sound here is undeniably on the lo-fi side of the spectrum, the arrangements and production on the album seem more carefully crafted. The result is Sprout's best album in years.

She's lyrically sharp as ever, and switches gears and works in nice melodies just enough to soften the edges, luring fans in before she pummels them.

Hypnotic and dreamlike, the album presents a vision of pop music's future glimpsed through the lens of its past.

This is the kind of album that grabs you on the first listen and doesn´t let go until you drive yourself crazy from playing it over and over again.

A disappointing concept album with large patches of trivial explorations and experimental noodling.

Furthers the high concept lyrical talents of the group with an added twist: a more atmospheric, slightly new wave sensibility.

Suspended Animation, on the whole, is a technical marvel; a kaleidoscopic foray into death metal, Looney Tunes sound effects, and an alarming balance of slapstick and pathos.

Achieves that rare supernova of artistic vision that dares to reconcile palpable, unapologetic ambience with unpretentious soulful simplicity.

Whatever their motives, this return to rock and roll is a welcome one.

While there are programmed beats, ambient synths and samples aplenty to be found here, the overall vibe of this recording is one of a classic swinging session.

Whether you find Kinsella's brand of experimental pop insufferably pretentious or delightfully challenging (I find it a bit of both), you have to give the man credit for his vision.

With Shamelessly Exciting he's starting to get good. In other words, on this record, once you get the idea, you're still going to want to listen.

Much of the record lands solidly in novelty territory.

Classical guitars, mellow piano chords and brushed drums lope across the proceedings like yawning animals still awaiting their first caffeinated jolt of the day.

!!! has put together an end-to-end burner here, full of songs that will move your ass and stick in your ear for weeks.

Betke's more minimal application of sound has opened up acres of sonic real estate between the beats.

Think of Beat Surf Fun as a pleasant soundtrack for pleasant times.

Within this realism is an incredible sense of serenity, which flows throughout the album and creates an incredibly fascinating work showcasing an immense sense of maturity for this young group.

It's easily the artist's most cohesive, polished work.

The Black Heart Procession is a truly original band, and Amore Del Tropico is a large stride forward for them, a reminder and a promise of their potential.

The results are far more interesting than one might imagine, revealing an album that is imminently accessible yet refreshingly unpredictable.

L'Avventura is a pleasant side-trip, a chance for Luna fans to see Dean let his hair down for 40 minutes.