By returning to the drawing board they used to create Ego War, Dinsdale and Franks have created a bigger, better version of their all-inclusive dance-pop/hip-hop.

Though A Colores is rather uneven, it's a compelling-- and more than competent-- effort.

Bell Orchestre don't always make good on their ambitions, but the results are often excellent, despite (and usually because of) their sloppiness.

Father Divine is that rare album that's conscious of its diversity without being pretentious about it

It is completely different from either Akron/Family's or Angels of Light's work from earlier this year, and in Akron's case, represents a startling pace of artistic development.

As you've come to expect, a small amount of the material sounds utterly fantastic and there's a solid chunk that's barely audible, but whether it's delivered with a coating of fuzz or a liberal gloss of studio sheen, Pollard's gumdrop melodies and fantastical lyrical phrasing keep us coming back for more.

There are very few artists who could pick up where they left off after ten years, or even five. To do this after half a lifetime is extraordinary.

While the Big Chorus and post-hardcore theatricality are hardly disparate stylistic traits, it's odd that Rogue Wave would embrace them after establishing themselves as a nuanced pop outfit.

This is a wonderful album -- and a significant advance over the excellent Sung Tongs.

There are no breathers in Hypermagic Mountain. There are only a series of knuckle sandwiches in the form of throbbing, distorting, gesticulating low-end ear bleeders.

Tanglewood Numbers' hummable songs and often-arresting lyrics are impressive, but Berman would be nowhere without a little help from his many friends.

If you like it fast and rough and dirty, this one's for you

The Clientele have crafted another lovely batch of tunes, perfect for autumnal introspection and wintry solitude -- but somehow it doesn't seem like enough.

The most remarkable thing about Tournament of Hearts is that technically, it is the Constantines' slowest, jazziest, most countrified release to date, but it doesn't give an inch of intensity when it's compared to their self-titled debut or the landmark Shine a Light.

Rather than detract from the funkified weirdness, the guest spots from the Adult Swim crew actually add to the craziness.

It's everything we've come to expect from Forrest in one gloriously hack 'n' sawed package, meticulously pieced together from his wide-ranging record collection.

Julia and Lena's voices are nothing special, and their lyrics are still derivative -- suitable fodder for Charmed or a Rachel Leigh Cook movie, but not the sort of thing that makes a lasting impression.

Gimmie Trouble reminds us that Adult. don't sound like anyone else... Not even themselves.

Through smart songcraft, a powerful command of pop vocabulary, and skillful track sequencing, Dios Malos deliver an album that expands and grows more complicated with every listen.

This is one of those rare albums where every single track is a keeper and killer hooks abound.

Here, finally, is a goth album for people who hate goth, an electronic album for people who hate electronica, and a pop album for everyone else.

The first My Morning Jacket whose songs reach the heights to which James's voice aspires.

Slug hasn't grown a whole lot.... Still, his lyricism and delivery are generally smart and entertaining, and Ant's production goes even further toward making You Can't Imagine... a thoroughly enjoyable record.

Metric take rock 'n' roll to a smarter, more sophisticated place than do most of today's American bands.

You'd think there wasn't much left to do with the roots-oriented rock formula, but Albatross proves that there's plenty of life and passion and intelligence left in the genre.

This isn't really one of those cases where bands like Wire or Mission of Burma or Vashti Bunyan come back years later with stuff that ranks among their best, but it isn't bad, either -- not bad at all.

After a while, the songs begin to sound the same, and while Martey's vocals are consistently strong, the fact that she almost always sings in the same range robs them of much of their effect.

Apologies to the Queen Mary is almost an hour long, and there are certainly portions of it that aren't essential... but it's difficult to see where any fat could have been cut, as each track has its own fractured beauty.