This is his best since his 2000 collaboration with Eric Clapton, "Riding with the King."

Youth Novels, one-ups the competition by being sillier, funkier, and less comfortable--more “Konichiwa Bitches” than Keren Ann.

Easy review: three tracks, each between 10 and 29 minutes, every moment electric.

Thibodeau’s melodies, which have always been pretty, are now beautiful.

With the help of Moreno, Harland, and bassist Matt Penman, Parks turns the sound of contemporary pop into real jazz--his own.

Although some may find the noisy rambunctiousness and jarring bursts offputting, Hill imbues Straits with an irresistible playfulness, and his talents as a drummer (and a frontman) will leave listeners dumbstruck.

The lyrics are nonsense about grotesque surgeries and a futuristic interface of man and machine; they’re sung with a weariness that suggests that even the singer is fatigued with this kind of thing.

It’s just an Omaha boy playing some good old country pop--for once.

Yet as welcome as it is to have Newman’s acerbic wit back, it remains a singular pleasure to listen to a simple, devastating ballad like 'Losing You,' which is wrapped up in sympathetic strings and absolutely devoid of irony.

Oneida have always been a thick stew of different influences, but usually with a dash of originality to bind it together; Preteen Weaponry never rises above pastiche. Nevertheless, the band’s hypnotic drone sweeps through the album like a swift current — it’s enough to generate anticipation for their future travels.

Gordon isn’t much of a tune man; his melodies rarely take a memorable shape here, and his adenoidal singing turns what he does have into open-mic mush. The lyrics, too, are on a pretty low burn.

Perhaps in the winter this will all seem a lot less charming, but right now, it’s a nice soundtrack for a drive out to the coast or for porch sitting late in the evening.

At first, the minimalist, glitchy grooves sound like a lot of the neo-electro trend these days. But Mason’s off-kilter lyrics and psychedelic sense of melody soon overpower the thrift-store Gary Numan and Depeche pastiches and the trite S&M vibe.

The lyrics run, uh, let’s say straightforward, but Black Kids know as well as any good sentimentalists that delivery is everything; teenage yearning couldn’t hope for a much better vehicle than their pouting power pop.

Breakout is a puzzling mishmash that makes sense only if you read between the lines and see the 15-year-old trapped in a machine that is partly of her own design.

Throughout Love on the Inside, Nettles and Bush trick out their twangy tunes with shiny new-wave guitars, creamy pop harmonies, and robust rock beats.

It's a gorgeous performance that anchors Mothertongue with its strength and solemnity.

For the most part Life Death Love and Freedom makes good on--and somehow makes entertainment of--its sober sense of purpose.

The Greatest Story would be a stronger statement if it werenâ??t for the conflicting cornerstones of conscientious-rapper soapboxing and standard-issue gangsta themes heâ??s laid at its foundation.

The music is neither bastardized nor precious, just a riveting reflection of the ongoing allure and paradox that is the Congo.

Modern Guilt is a hot thing of indefinite course.

The result is some kind of cosmic machine music, reflecting not just a stoner’s world of internalized minimalist headbanging but an entire universe of culture, texture, and possibility.

The results are surprisingly tame, if not un-rocking.

The smart, funny, fanclub chants herein, each as catchy as Willie Mays in the ’54 Fall Classic, are gemlike tributes to the characters who’ve made that diamond shine, from Satchel Paige to Fernando Valenzuela.

Last 2 Walk is a club-banging record, but it’s hard to recommend something so by-the-book.

The rotating cast of vocalists and the Saturday-night spirit of the instrumentation are together more welcoming than anything the DFA has dropped in years.

Here, as on 2005’s "Takk," Sigur Ros have chosen to distill their rapture epics into shorter, more accessible bursts of swelling beauty. Yet this album still offers all the signature touchstones that make the band so deliciously unlike their post-rock contemporaries.

Humor, melody, and weirdness rule, and that makes Ceramic Dog lighter than both Ribot’s Los Cubanos Postizos Afro-Cuban band and his aggro-noise outfit Shrek.