All of the tunes are energetic, but their similarity will definitely become apparent by the time you reach the album's end.

A thump-and-groove driven Cadillac ride down the shadowy streets of Motown.

Push the Button isn't wall-to-wall brilliant; it has its share of lulls and, for want of a better term, dubious inspirations. However, when it works, it's so on that you won't want to turn it off.

Holopaw's delicate, subdued second album lacks their debut's sharp peaks and valleys.

While it's not Everett's most focused effort, musically speaking, Shootenanny! triumphs by projecting an uncharacteristically jovial mood.

Despite the band's penchant for uneven electronic dirges, Out Of The Shadow is a very accessible work -- perhaps too accessible for indie enthusiasts who thrive on innovation and sonic exploration.

This spruced-up EP is devoid of the rampant stylistic deviations that have ruled their later work, instead trading upon simple acoustic song structures and soulful vocal leads that recall the strummy days of I Hope Your Heart is not Brittle.

Honeycomb isn't a great album -- it's too tentative and self-restrained for that -- but it's quite a good one.

Yes, then, Arab Strap are a terrific band, with possibilities that seem infinite. Still, I am certain that the songs on The Red Thread could have been better if the group had bypassed its trademark vocal style and actually played along with the lyrics, singing as if something in the lives of its characters were at stake.

While the band revisits and expands upon musical ideas from its past, Nextdoorland never seems like warmed-over Soft Boys history; the arrangements are exponentially deeper, the playing is energetic and economical, and the songwriting has clearly benefited from Robyn Hitchcock's twenty-year career.

There are no sweeping creative revelations -- are there ever, on eighth albums? -- but nothing here sullies the group's legacy either.

Damage is definitely more up-front about its hip-hop influences than past Blues Explosion records, but the core Blues Explosion identity remains intact.

Dirty Dancing is a thoughtful, darkly humorous album -- a consistently danceable mix of state of the art electronic music trends.

Deliberately slow in tempo, delicately arranged, emphatically "dreamy" in tone, Misery is a Butterfly is lovely, but also difficult going for Blonde Redhead fans.

The short-but-sweet syrupiness of the past is gone, and the sound that has taken its place is heavier, mustier and a hell of a lot harder to swallow.

Plays Music sounds like stuff you've heard before, but there's a special, vibrant joy between its notes.

Despite its handful of flaws, Systems/Layers is rife with ideas, and delivers its message, however encoded, with elegance and ingenuity.

Despite the amount of rock and soul that Gahan tries to inject into the stew, Paper Monsters only occasionally breaks free of the Mode paradigms.

In spite of its apparent split personality, Skull Ring is a righteously bombastic affair, and easily the best Iggy record since Brick by Brick.

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.

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.

Bavarian Fruit Bread comes with the same warning as most of the winter season's baked goods -- it's rich, warm and full of flavor, but overindulgence will result in unplanned napping.

The album is never anything more or less than it pretends to be. It offers a good time, and it delivers. As a soundtrack to mindless partying, it is first-rate.

But as wonderful as parts of Old Ramon are, the spaces between the high points are at times, less than impressive.

The Johns (Linnell and Flansburgh) are firing on all cylinders here, wrapping their suitably obscure and sometimes ethereal humor in the most capable songwriting of their careers.

Making the effort to unravel the tightly packed layers and unconventional (even by 'Lab standards) song structures can seem downright daunting, regardless of how long you've been following Sadier and how many of her EPs you've devoured.

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

Elkington's wry, sodden compositions are enlivened with sparse yet crisp instrumentation and steady melodies. Imagine shoegazer tendencies jolted by the cattle prod of Midwestern edgy folk rock.