It doesn't always work.... But when it does, in the blended tones and dark piano chords of "The Fox and the Hound", the result is magical and otherworldly.

The first thing that really jumps out at you about Two Way Monologue is that it lacks its predecessor's exuberant, puddle-jumping panache. But when you stop and look at things closely, you realize that the progressions Lerche has made on the songwriting front more than atone for any zeal he's trimmed off the back end.

This is a terrifically exciting debut, imbued with a zest, energy and songwriting flair that warrants -- perhaps even commands -- some sort of attention.

Although the Cooper Temple Clause pack plenty of celestial firepower and darkwave ambiance into their six-minute movements, by the time they unveil the epic "Written Apology", the sheer compositional weight is too much for a mortal listener to handle.

Time and time again throughout Panda Park, 90 Day Men prove themselves a rare breed -- a band capable of embracing tradition without becoming overburdened by it.

A fascinatingly cinematic, image-laden and claustrophobic album that feels like the someone else's nightmare.

With an approach that seems so clinical, the album sounds cold and soulless -- and, well, boring.

On Virginia Creeper, he shows a sharpened sense of Midwestern melancholy that is really quite appealing, despite the sometimes hackneyed musical arrangements.

Mercifully, Frusciante has toned down the screechy howl that made his earlier work almost unbearable, and while his songs aren't quite diamond-sharp, they have evolved into soft-focus pop tunes that display a keen melodic intuition and gift for beautiful torment.

As a political album, Liberation may only be half-successful, but I'd still take angry Trans Am over the schlocky Trans Am of TA any day.

Aficionados of WGC's autumnal, melancholy sound will find this fifth full-length release comparable to the group's previous four, only more refined and maybe a little more assured.

There's far too much nondescript strumming and far too few meaningful hooks.

They now trade in a world of startlingly bleak, matte-black liquid-crystal experimental pop perfection pitched somewhere between John Cage's frightening austerity and the bittersweet squall of Swell Maps. Art-pop doesn't get any more accessible than this.

Their bouncily hummable tunes and tortured lyrics about girls might evoke thoughts of groups like Weezer, but these guys aren't nerd-rock clones.

It's a remarkable album.

Though it's fair to question their sense of tradition, they succeed where other blues-aping artists, like Gomez and Arnold, have failed, because they're not wholly indebted to the customs of the blues. They've merely co-opted its grisly spirit and transformed it into something unique.

Not only has Grohl released a fantastic album, he has done a wonderful job giving several aging metal vocalists another fifteen minutes of fame.

The music is fantastic, but the sinking suspicion that there's something else going on that you can't possibly fathom becomes pervasive by album's end.

The Power Out's most impressive feature is the musicianship and songwriting skill on display.

Darnielle's willingness to throw himself so completely into collaboration is what makes this effort such a triumph.

A discernibly West Coast-influenced affair, it's an album of anecdotal moments set to a glorious country-rock backdrop: graciously sun-kissed melodies, vocal harmonies, neat arrangements and refreshing, varied instrumentation.

This is one of the breeziest, catchiest discs I've heard in a while.

A vibrant, engrossing album by a seasoned band whose best years are still ahead of them.

Margerine Eclipse isn't a revelation, but it offers a number of minor departures from the established Stereolab standard -- and given the weighty expectations that surround each new 'Lab album, that's probably the best we can hope for.

Secret Wars is more than a good album. It's an incredible experience, taking you out of your daily life into a mysterious and mind-changing space.

Punk Rock bears little resemblance to the commodified dross that passes for punk in 2004; it's proud, smart, defiantly working-class stuff that'll remind you why the movement mattered.

Statistics... come off like an emo version of Coldplay.

Compelling listening.