Bright Like Neon Love may be too rock for the dance heads and too dance for the rockists, but for those without ideological hang-ups, it should be merely one of the most fun and exciting releases of the year.

If Oh Me Oh My was Devendra’s stunning introduction to the wide musical landscape, then Rejoicing in the Hands further marks his emergence as the most unique and important new voice in the music today.

Does Summer Make Good maintain the peak established by its predecessors? In a word: no. But that doesn’t mean it’s not good, because it is; it’s just not quite as magical as the others.

Review 1: <A HREF="http://www.stylusmagazine.com/review.php?ID=1936&PHPSESSID=c34e5fbb0933de1389469828674b499e" TARGET="_blank">It&#146;s unfortunate that this band is so unsure of themselves, least of all lyrically.</A> [score=50]; Review 2: <A HREF="http://www.stylusmagazine.com/review.php?ID=1937" TARGET="_blank">Heroes To Zeros strikes a balance between enervation, subtlety and creativity.</A> [score=80]

Musically, Holland could be considered the more eccentric and authentic second cousin of Norah Jones.

Recast[s] her matchless mountain holler and ever-sturdy songwriting genius in the milieu of gut-bucket blues riffs and blistering rock guitar, making Lynn sound not so much reinvigorated as reimagined, given a raucously purposeful, wildly authoritative new playground for her still-terrific proto-feminist (even in 2004) tropes.

Altogether, Ratatat is a great album, taking the sound Daft Punk constructed on Discovery and transforming it into a remarkably intricate, painstaking work of instrumental genius.

Inches succeeds, and then some, because the record simply doesn&#146;t sound like it&#146;s been collated together over a nine year period.

The Hold Steady, then, is not yet an outstanding band, but unlike its New York contemporaries, shows the sort of distinctive talent that suggests that one day, it might be.

They touch greatness at several points, if never truly digging their nails in and grabbing hold.

Not just a great record, but a much-needed dose of country-rock reality.

The Sunday girl may be entering her autumn years, but she&#146;s still an absolute treasure.

A wonderful album stuffed full of sentiment, emotion and melody--and traverses the bridge between teenagerdom and adulthood with a moving and thrilling honesty.

One of those singular albums that is so richly dense, so unabashedly whimsical and so damned polished.

The fact that the music, vocals and melodies are stunning is just icing on the cake - a cake that is crumbling before your eyes.

Those looking for the instant gratification of the first side of YFIIP--the “Almost Crimes”s, the “KC Accidental”s, the “Anthem”s--will be grossly disappointed. This is a collection for those of us who dug the album’s second side--meandering, experimental, but ultimately just as urgent and just as rewarding.

Despite the increased emphasis on production, like Blonde Redhead's entire catalogue, the chirping, child-like cords of lead vocalists Amedeo Pace and Kazu Makino act as the essential ingredient to the bands avant-garde concoction.

The whole album is put together so oddly, almost haphazardly, that this works better as a collection of moments than as a whole.

Canned Heat mixed with Kiss and chopped into lines with Elvis and Queens Of The Stone Age.

The production's sanitary feel plays a large role in the album's conservative nature, as it scrubs away any potential raucousness.

By trimming excess fat (read: R’n’B choruses), Madvilliany keeps a sense of spontaneity, cutting off unexpectedly and never allowing anything to get stale.

Fennesz makes Boards Of Canada sound like Daft Punk and My Bloody Valentine sound like Oasis.

As rap, this hardly registers. As political commentary, it&#146;s too obtuse to make much impact. But as eclectic, genre-bending music with an ear for interesting sounds and a knack for making ambiguous lyrics memorable, cLOUDDEAD&#146;s second effort is uniquely promising and satisfying.

While Seven Swans is possibly a better record than Michigan, with such an overtly Christian sheen, it will be interesting to see if the liberal music press gives it as much praise as it deserves.

For all of their rock leanings, they are a jazz combo in the best way possible&#151;each player brings a potent set of chops to his respective instrument.

Ultravisitor appears to be the first album when jazz can completely mesh with Squarepusher&#146;s canonized style.

This is a rare example of music transcending lyrics in conveying the work&#146;s meaning.

Pawn Shoppe Heart is the type of thrillingly raucous, visceral, harsh, storming brand of balls-all-the-way-out rock familiar to anyone paying vaguely close mind to current Detroit rumblings.

Like David Bowie’s Station to Station or Peter Gabriel’s So, TV on the Radio make music that demands to be listened to actively, as for the listener to absorb the lethal amounts of heartbreak, dignity, and mystery in the human voice.

Short of getting into a time portal and hurling yourself back to the late 70s, this is the closest you will get that sound in 2004.

It&#146;ll take an adventurous set of ears and some headphones. Don&#146;t worry, take a deep breath and relax. You see, Beans makes it easy for you by spitting with what is, perhaps, the most technically gifted flow in hip hop today.

With a more succinct drollery and a better sense of studio control, Cee-Lo Green has outdone his fellow Atlantans [OutKast] on Cee-Lo Green is the Soul Machine.

Tellingly, the consistently likable Guilt Show falters only when The Get Up Kids overextend their grasp and depart from their nearly infallible pop formula, as on the &#147;experimental&#148; claptrap of the album&#146;s last two tracks.

In its ambition, emotion, aggression and intelligence, Kick Up The Fire, And Let The Flames Break Loose is a work of sheer bloody genius.

Panda Park might not be one of the easiest albums to get into this year, but given proper time, it reveals itself as one of the best.

<A HREF="http://www.stylusmagazine.com/review.php?ID=1752&PHPSESSID=962ece01ecbce6b79b9bf797952f15ee" TARGET="_blank">It's a much stronger record than you might expect from something that will probably wind up being, in retrospect, a transitional album.</A> [Review 1, score=80] <A HREF="http://www.stylusmagazine.com/review.php?ID=1753" TARGET="_blank">It's just too much; too much noise, too much concept, too much deep NJ woods isolation, and too many witches' tales.</A> [Review 2, score=50]

I feel patronising calling it a rebirth, return to form or a self-rehabilitation from the brink. Let&#146;s just call it evolution.

Jacked up on myriad assembly-line noises, mechanical tinkerings, and golden acoustic guitar strumming, they manage their melodies with a deftness that keeps them loose and limber in the quiet assault of the underlying density.

As ever Wagner’s voice is rich and warm, the instrument of a faltering singer that just gets better with age, cracked and croaked and delivering lyrics with a strange phrasing that makes the most indecipherable and idiosyncratic observation take on a wealth of meanings for the listener depending how they first, or last, hear it. [combined review of both discs]

Whilst the songs on No You C’Mon don’t flow together as smoothly as those on Aw C’Mon, a number of them are of a similar ilk; lush, concise modern country that only Lambchop can do, the sound of a band from Nashville rather than a Nashville band.

So ignore the Doris-Day-meets-Eminem descriptions you&#146;re seeing; this is more like Kate Bush meets Phil Ochs.

There is a clear passion and enthusiasm in Grohl&#146;s instrumentals and a potency and power in the performance of every singer.

Body Language isn&#146;t so much a massive artistic leap as it is a total distillation of her sound and style.

Hole&#146;s original pr&#233;cis was to become something like Sonic Youth crossed with Fleetwood Mac, and America&#146;s Sweetheart is the closest she&#146;s come to creating that vision.

Throughout The College Dropout, Kanye subverts cliches from both sides of the hip-hop divide, which again isn&#146;t unprecedented, but still refreshing and revelatory coming from someone who could have just as easily stood pat on his massive Midas-producer stacks.

A vibrant album that at times sounds like it&#146;s a young band&#146;s first shot at the cherry.

As sumptuous and sublime as much of Hypnotic Underworld is, Ghost tend to noodle too long.

There are gimmicks, but there’s musical merit, and genuine feeling to match the calculated charm.

An underdeveloped and frail album.

Bows and Arrows is an album of grandiose pleasures, the sound of a band not just making good on the promise of their debut, but expanding every which way at once, merging distinctive songcraft with decadent theatrics, and tethering themselves to a confidence that they, unlike others, will survive the sea-change of a deflating scene.

He may not be the first to mix the bucolic with the mechanic, and God knows he won&#146;t be the last, but here all the symptoms of overexposure sink under the unassuming grace of his gifts.

Apropa&#146;t&#146;s biggest flaw could be the use of Eva Puyuelo Muns&#146; vocals. Perhaps I&#146;m accustomed primarily to Herren&#146;s music as instrumental, but the use of Eva feels painfully forced at times.

Given the genre-splicing we witnessed on 10,000 Hz Legend, Talkie Walkie sometimes seems like white-bread Air, like a fractured spin-off of Moon Safari.

I don&#146;t see it as a release you can draw much from through repeated listening, but it&#146;s a brave and powerful trip nonetheless.

Although clearly of more interest to rabid Cure nuts, Join the Dots is enough to bring joy (or, indeed, heartbreak) into anyone's life.

Cast of Thousands is a great record, beautiful and emotionally powerful as well as musically inventive... a refinement and extension of their vision that will emerge as one of the best records of the year.

The group's consistent artistic statement with little flexibility for change or innovation upon an already distinctive sound is their own greatest strength and enemy, leaving them unable to win over new listeners with a directional change.

Secret Wars feels like a keeper, like an album I&#146;ll pull out and play and still love ten years from now.

The weak point of the disc... is the songwriting.... But if you&#146;re in it for pure sonic pleasure, you&#146;re in the right place.

A tremendous step forward, an emotional, melodic smorgasbord of pop bliss.

By capturing moments of ancient past, Gerrard and Cassidy have somehow created something timeless through set-in-stone permanence.

Pyramid is not Songs: Ohia but the musical equivalent of A Season In Hell, not something one can take in often, but which is beautiful for the fact that it was completed at all.

To completely dismiss Camera Obscura for their willingness to partake in this musical grand theft or K-Tel like attitude toward repackaging former eras of music would be unfair; free of the burden of meliorating an individual sound, they’ve been able to craft a consistently enjoyable collection of pop songs that inhabit the passion and style of the music they so clearly love.

Most of Boy in Da Corner's most compelling moments come from this uneasy interaction between irrational youth and ultra-rational mechanized society.

The relentlessness of the pillaging becomes one of the album&#146;s virtues&#151;each song wildly varies from the next, revealing thirty-five minutes of noise and pop that extends far beyond the surface into a slowly decaying singalong monster.

There's "Karma" and "I Don't Know Your Name." You and your iPod know what to do.

Review 1: <A HREF="http://www.stylusmagazine.com/review.php?ID=1514" TARGET="_blank">She&#146;s done it again, and the fact that we&#146;re not surprised shows just how valuable and talented she is.</A> [Score=91] Review 2: <A HREF="http://www.stylusmagazine.com/review.php?ID=1515" TARGET="_blank">The new Missy album is terrific! Maybe even more terrific than her last one, and almost certainly better than the one before that.</A> [Score=84]

Surprisingly reminiscent of that other white-boy hip-hop circus freak [Beck], circa 1996&#146;s genre-mashing breakthrough Odelay.

Fanfare aside, even though the naked version is an improvement, Let It Be remains the Beatles&#146; worst album.

The areas where Try This falls down are those where P!nk eschews the eclecticism of the stronger tracks and instead produces bog-standard pop-punk or R&B tracks.

At times its earnestness and self-conscious attempts to prove its own expertise make it seem more like the work of a surly, awkward late-adolescent.

The four new Magnetic Fields tracks, while good, add little more to Merritt&#146;s considerable repertoire than a few catchy melodies, with scarcely a clever line to boast.

When [Love is Hell] works, and it does so only sporadically, Adams creates songs of suffocating closeness and density.

The feeling I'm left with, after 'Your Hand In Mine' ebbs away, is that I may never need another instrumental album like this again. The Earth Is Not A Cold Dead Place has already provided what may be the ideal version. And for that, it is absolutely essential.

Review 1: <A HREF="http://www.stylusmagazine.com/review.php?ID=1418" TARGET="_blank">This is what they do- they don’t ape other bands. They ape pop music. And they do it better than any other band right now.</A> [score=80]; Review 2: <A HREF="http://www.stylusmagazine.com/review.php?ID=1419" TARGET="_blank">33 minutes and 34 seconds of the SAME album!</A> [score=65]

Review 1: <A HREF="http://www.stylusmagazine.com/review.php?ID=1416" TARGET="_blank">Ultimately, Closer doesn&#146;t disappoint and represents a legitimate fifth installment in the Plastikman series, in spite of the fact that it breaks little new ground beyond its predecessors.</A> [score=75]; Review 2: <A HREF="http://www.stylusmagazine.com/review.php?ID=1417" TARGET="_blank">Hawtin [is] firmly again in the leagues with the masters of the genre.</A> [score=81]

Music fans of the world rejoice--Yo La Tengo can once again hear the heart beating as one.

Review 1:<A HREF="http://www.stylusmagazine.com/review.php?ID=1413" TARGET="_blank">Kish Kash suffers from a surfeit of ideas and sounds; quite simply there is too much going on here.</A> [score=70] Review 2:<A HREF="http://www.stylusmagazine.com/review.php?ID=1412" TARGET="_blank">It is simply how dance music--natch, pop music--should be done. </A> [score=90]

One of the best albums of 2003, one of his best albums post-Clash, and as the highest note Joe Strummer could have exited on.

The Unicorns&#146; schtick isn&#146;t very difficult to see through; they&#146;re grown adults writing children&#146;s songs for grown adults.

<A HREF="http://www.stylusmagazine.com/review.php?ID=1410" TARGET="_blank">People are claiming The Rapture are geniuses, saviours and innovators but the simple truth is that they aren&#146;t.</A> [Review 1, score=70] <A HREF="http://www.stylusmagazine.com/review.php?ID=1411" TARGET="_blank">One hates to frown on a band&#146;s ambition, but you may find yourself hoping that next time out the band plays to their strengths the whole way through.</A> [Review 2, score=75]

Review 1: <A HREF="http://www.stylusmagazine.com/review.php?ID=1414" TARGET="_blank">All the elements of timelessness are there, but the songs just don&#146;t seem to live beyond the last note. </A> [score=73] Review 2: <A HREF="http://www.stylusmagazine.com/review.php?ID=1415" TARGET="_blank">The Shins&#146; music has grown by leaps and bounds. </A> [score=90]

All you have to do is plug Coral Fang in and turn it on to experience [Dalle's] greatness.

Honestly, I can think of few albums more perfectly structured than The Lemon of Pink, and far fewer that end as nicely.

By turns thrilling, gratifying, and hideous.

It&#146;s a strong and dynamic step forward for the group and deserves to bring them a level of recognition commonly accorded their more famous Montr&#233;al label-mates.

With such a pitch-perfect sonic backdrop, RJ makes it almost impossible for 'Print to fail, each track equipped with all the genetic material an emcee needs to deliver either a sage-solemn message or a quick-witted punchline.

A full realization of a band at the top of their game, filled with intricate guitar pop of the highest order.

Out Of Season is both a remarkable record of beautiful music, and an outstanding, awe-inspiring performance inducing near-irresistible feelings and sensations. This album is a sublime example of the art of the singer, and of the art of music.

If anything, it feels like Gibbard has regressed to the point where he sits in the shadow of his bandmate and producer, Chris Walla.

The finest Matmos record to date.

If the album has a fault, its that LFO can occasionally be accused of complacency, and a handful of tracks here stray into bog-standard Warp generictronica, but it&#146;s a minor gripe considering the joys on offer elsewhere.

Interesting, strong in places, but overlong and uneven.

Perhaps the producers have toned themselves down a bit just so Aesop can rock harder. Maybe they don&#146;t want to steal his thunder. Whatever their motivation, the beats feel somewhat restrained, lethargic and lazy. But they are perfectly suited to Aesop&#146;s limpid down-tempo rhymes.

The Furnaces&#146; brand of sonic mayhem may not be for everyone, but there are rewards for those who dare take the plunge.

The songs here are full of life, moving freely, focused without being bare and controlled without being uptight.

You could of course, if you like, rip the best tracks from each album and burn them together into some kind of RIAA-baiting SuperLoveBoxxx CDR that creams all opposition with its x-ray vision, amazing strength and ability to leap multiple genres in a single bound, but that would be missing the point.

In a year that&#146;s produced first-rate albums by OutKast and Lucinda Williams, Bubba, a self-proclaimed redneck from rural Georgia who most people pegged as a probable one-hit wonder three years ago, has beaten the odds and made both the hip-hop and country album of the year.