Vol. 2's Springsteen-tinged "Don't Hurt," Tom Petty-flavored "Look How Clean I Am" and punk-soaked "It's A Whale" stomp and romp with unrepentant rage and joy. [No. 146, p.51]

Vol. 1's gorgeous "Sea Of Clouds," Dylanesque "Hope IS Big" and crystalline "Limp Right Back" quiver with quiet emotional power. [No. 146, p.51]

Its songs are energetic and uplifting, with frontman and main songwriter Amayo's half-sung/half-spoken lyrics balancing snide humor with insightful commentary into the roots of the political quandaries we confront on a daily basis. [No. 146, p.53]

The broadest, strangest and coolest sonic canvas that Deerhoof has ever framed. [No. 146, p.52]

An exuberant, ebullient revelation, awash in the cascading guitar work of Alec O'Hanley and Rankin's sunshiney, slapback-treated vocals, for a full power-pop effect that falls somewhere between vintage Tourists and recent Camera Obscura. [No. 146, p.53]

By the time MacLean gets around to a spoken-word revisit to an old haunt, "The Museum Of Fog," you're happily along for the surreal ride. [No. 146, p.55]

While there's plenty to like here, and more to admire, he's never made a record quite so challenging to love. [No. 146, p.54]

Minus interludes and meandering artsy filler, many of the 11 tracks take fine-grain sandpaper to noise rock's jagged edges. [No. 146, p.57]

The set is exhaustive, but it's not an overdose. [No. 144, p.60]

Seekers And Finders is the straight cannonball the world's premier Gypsy punks haven't quite offered since 2005's Gypsy Punks: Underdog Wold Strike itself. [No. 145, p.55]

A collection that's at once futuristic and timeless, Across The Multiverse is sure to wow friends, family and followers alike. [No. 145, p.57]

They sound much heavier and quite unburdened by commercial notions. [No. 145, p.61]

The results echo any number of indelibly British daydreamers, from Syd Barrett-era Pink Floyd and XTC at its wispiest on down to Saint Etienne and the Clientele: rife with memory and magic, as fragrant and saturated as a sticky, sleepless summer night. [No. 145, p.61]

Arcade Fire's tightest and tersest album since 2004's Funeral is by far its least ambitious, and the band is cool to riff on this. [No. 145, p.53]

If it's been a minute since you've spent time with BSS, Hug Of Thunder could be a revelation. Otherwise, you'll just have to settle for it being a very good album. [No. 145, p.53]

If New Facts Emerge reminds the listener of any post-millennial Fall album, I'd have to go with 2003's The Real New Fall LP. [No. 145, p.55]

Even if some listeners might ding Lo Tom for playing it a little safe, there's really not a wrong note on the record. [No. 145, p.57]

Deep and communal, Barefoot In The Head is CRB's most impressive studio effort yet. [No. 145, p.59]

It's Newman's ability to paint such a scene [narrator's wife, on her deathbed, defending him against their concerned and/or churlish offspring] with humor, affection and honest humanity that makes his albums so thoroughly worth the wait. [No. 145, p.60]

It's a fascinating document, well worth a look from fans of any of the above [Offa Rex, Trembling Bells and Eliza's Carthy's Wayward Band]. [No. 145, p.61]

Sonically, visually and thematically, this double disc is grandiloquent, like the great progressive music statements of rock history. [No. 145, p.61]

Although Beast Epic does not broadcast its complexity and depth as with some past Iron & Wine efforts, it's still lovely, dark and deep. [No. 145, p.58]

Their voices blend together beautifully. [No. 145, p.57]

With its simple riff and typically anthemic chorus, the immediately indelible "The Birthday Democrats" amply proves that Pollard's unprecedented creative spark shows no signs of going dark. The rest of How Do You Spell Heaven confirms that notion. [No. 145, p.55]

With a snarl on their lisp, drums set to bash and guitars red-lining all the way, snotty new Cribs anthems such as "Year Of Hate" and "Partisan" shine within Albini's typical sonic verite approach to recording. [No. 145, p.53]

It's sharply focused--and sonically beautiful--but also abstract, with an open-ended feeling to the swooping voices and lyrical ambiguities. [No. 145, p.51]

The Brazilian foundation is here but so are glimmers of his signature unhinged, skronky electric-guitar work. [No. 142, p.57]

Endlessly moody and surprisingly versatile, this record moves by its own secret logic. [No. 144, p.61]