It probably won't sway rock and roll, and it most likely won't change your life, but it's a solid disc from a consistent band who haven't let their major-label affiliation change them.

The unpredictable song structures are fresh and innovative, too, twisting off in unexpected directions mere seconds before you can remember what they remind you of.

Year of Meteors isn't the sound of ground being broken; it's an artist growing ever more confident, but never overly comfortable, in her style.

Most [tracks] work quite well with the multifaceted rhythms and constantly evolving beats that make each of the tracks here a true expression of creativity.

While Educated Guess may not be her best album to date (a near impossible-to-achieve expectation for an artist 21 albums in), it marks yet another transformation of her talents.

Like waking up one morning to discover you suddenly like coffee, this is one of those albums that feels natural; the discord and the overwrought weepiness, the experimentalism and the simplicity -- everything works. It fits.

Far more mysterious and (perhaps not coincidentally) alluring than most Buckner outings, Dents and Shells is a claustrophobic comedown album wrapped in disillusion and sorrow.

Their music is interesting, intelligent and exciting, and it'll make you smile really, really big.

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

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

Bazooka Tooth not only gets better as the disc goes on -- the beats get thicker, the songs come together more fully and Rock stops proselytizing long enough to let your head bob and relax -- but it actually improves with repeated listens.

Dizzee's voice still sounds like a helium-inflected hiccup, and the beats still sound like they were recorded directly from a Nintendo, if not an Atari.

In the best possible way, the album is a painful listening experience, forcing the listener into immediate and excruciating catharsis: you look into the eyes of a cold stranger, and see nothing but ugliness and painful regret.

It's filthy, low-budget fun that's still plenty fucked up, whether you're a first-timer or a hardcore Peaches fanatic.

It remains to be seen whether this is the record for which American Analog Set's fans have been waiting a decade, but Set Free is definitely one of the most consistent, mature albums they've made to date.

The hour-long Love & Distortion never loses steam; it delivers on its title, and is unique enough to avoid lyrical banality.

Imagine, if you will, The Creation, 13th Floor Elevators and Bruce Haack allowed to run wild in Abbey Road studios for two weeks, and you’ll have an insight into the Howl’s sound.

Yes, this is a funny record, but it's not a comedy record; Har Mar has an acrobatic voice that rivals pretty much any male in R&B today, and he writes some genuinely catchy, sticky melodies that lots of other acts would kill for.

United States of Atlanta is guilty of just about every modern hip-hop cliché in the book... but its glimmering, capped-toothed, post-millennial party platform is a rousing success in spite of itself.

In terms of pure power-pop delight, Velocity of Sound is hard to beat -- it's one of those records that taps directly into your musical pleasure center and jabs repeatedly at the best bits.

The more time you spend with Summer Sun, the more fun it turns out to be.

Even if their big 'n' bashy brand of party-happy tech-hop gets a bit familiar by album's end, it's destined to be a staple of 2003's party mixes.

An album of didactic power and limitless ambition.

You'll feel lost and totally submerged in a sublime experience that's timeless, exciting and free from boundaries.

This is a welcome addition to the Giant Sand corpus, and an impressive demonstration of the continuing relevance of the band, more than two decades into its existence.

Geogaddi isn't a classic.... Disappointing, however, it is not.

Real Gone may not rock your world in the way that 2002's musical one-two punch of Blood Money and Alice did, but you'll still be glad to hear it.

The Sunset Tree feels like Darnielle's most personal record to date, and it's certainly his most immediately accessible, musically speaking.