As far as songs go, Barlow hasn't been this good in years.

Not as consistent as its de facto partner, Digital Ash still contains several euphoric highs.

Though this new political bent shows a heightened sense of maturity and substance, two of Morning's best tracks are poignant, unabashed love songs.

They still retain a unique identity even as they plunder and explore more generic alt-rock themes, and their particular skill is in making this transformation seem logical and welcome.

Often, it's all too much -- too many synths, too many drums, too much reverb; it's as if every subtlety of that first record was magnified in the production process, its once lithe and supple frame vulgarly pumped with steroids.

For all it lacks in the pop-song department, it's not a bad pop record.

Where their prettiness was once cloaked in a shroud of bashful melancholy, with [producer Joshua] Eustis on hand things get a little more grandstanding.

A gorgeous and moving collection of love songs.

This is simply some of the best guitar-driven rock I've heard all year.

An album that, despite all its misty melancholy, is filled less with lyrics of heartache, and more with words of warmth and romance.

Love. Angel. Music. Baby. has been acclaimed as a bright-and-shiny pop-music tour-de-force, but once the initial thrilling rush of the stylistic sheen and artistic conception has abated, the album seems too fragmented to be anointed as such.

She selects songs that are somehow special, and presents them with great playing and singing, in a way that clearly means something to her. My bet is that they'll mean something to you, too.

It's well produced and mixed, but lacks the edge to make it really interesting.

Brings together the best parts of metal, hardcore punk-rock and dance-y post-punk for a sound that would be otherwise useless if it weren't for one thing: The boys got "it."

The songs on his latest, often about political ambivalence and soul-searching alienation, are still catchy as V.D. But they lack the fiery complexity of past efforts.

This final record is neither focused nor infallible, instead a rarer glimpse at a man whose creative doorways, once the source of so much hope and inspiration, had become outnumbered by his demons.

A set of tunes blessed with melody but hardly immediately memorable.

Crimes is nothing but poetry, poetry in that way that song lyrics never are, profound both on page and in song.

Sturdier production and straightforward songwriting make a strong backbone for someone once lauded for his mysticism.

The New Danger is overambitious and undercooked, adventurous and bland all at once.

While the dizzying mix of musical styles and absurdist lyrics is still there, Camper are a much more skilled, mature band.

Combining dramatic, ethereal pop vocals with moody guitar and piano theatrics, Summer in Abaddon recalls a tighter, smoothed-out Built to Spill, or maybe a Dismemberment Plan reunion.

The disc is basically a more straight electro-pop variation on the Gold Chains angle.

Overall, it is clear that Hitchcock is having fun creating music with Welch and Rawlings, and that joy comes through in the listening.

By corralling five hungry producers with a flair for the earthy funk and slippery samples that guided some of De La's best albums, the veteran trio have recorded the true successor to 1996's Stakes Is High.

Take[s] their haunted-house shtick to frightening extremes.

The magic of the album lies in the way Wilson's complex, challenging sonic vision can evoke the optimism, hope, and wonder that gave birth to this album decades ago.

A set doing less of the poker-faced electro revivalism and more of the palette-diversifying pop-song penning.