Killers vocalist Brandon Flowers makes it very clear that he wants to be Bruce Springsteen on Sam’s Town, judging by the Boss-esque sentiments decorating the over-the-top single “When You Were Young.” While it’s admirable that the Vegas quartet wants to be taken seriously as musicians and lyricists on its sophomore…

Compile the best of R.E.M.’s earliest output on one CD, and it’s easy to see why they ultimately became one of the biggest bands in the world — optimism. That’s the overwhelming feeling pervading Fine, a smartly sequenced collection spanning the Athens, Georgia, then-quartet’s pre-major-label years. R.E.M. had nothing to…

Even when Primal Scream didn’t match the creative heights reached by Screamadelica’s rave-worthy blissouts or the electro-punk of XTRMNTR, it never lacked self-confidence. After all, it coaxed (and kept) My Bloody Valentine’s reclusive Kevin Shields out of hibernation and had the courage to embrace sinewy dark-wave long before it was…

Get these motherfucking emo bands off this motherfucking album. No, really — get these motherfucking emo bands off this motherfucking album. The soundtrack accompanying what’s arguably the year’s most-anticipated cheese-horror flick is a giant mess — namely because it’s full of pounding, stuttering dance remixes of songs by new-punk kingpins…

Let’s be honest: Despite the perceived sensitivity injection (courtesy of tear-stained emo and indie artists), radio is no more welcoming to female musicians now than it was during the days of frat-mook nü-metal — well, not to female musicians of substance, at least. Save for Kelly Clarkson and KT Tunstall,…

The Church lost many fans in the 1990s when it began to favor meandering grooves that seduced via atmosphere rather than hooks. But while the absence of accessible pop gems meant that the prolific Australian quartet disappeared from the airwaves, its ability to bend melodies into heart-fluttering beauty never wavered…

After listening to Taking Back Sunday’s third album, it’s quite clear why the band’s fan base consists mainly of adolescents. Like its prone-to-conformity teenaged admirers, the Long Island quintet prefers to let outsiders dictate what it sounds like — and hasn’t yet cultivated a unique identity. Whereas producer Lou Giordano…

Before the Yeah Yeah Yeahs’ Karen O strutted, spit, and cooed her way to indie-rock icon status, the last dynamic female to front a rock band was arguably Courtney Love. The grunge widow propelled Hole to stardom in the 1990s with her inimitable martyr poses and baby-doll fashion on the…

It’s often difficult to critically analyze a much-beloved artist, because the reviewer’s tendency is to excuse irksome traits or loathsome sonic detours simply because of past greatness. And so while it’s tempting to give Morrissey a free pass for hauling in a children’s choir for several songs on his eighth…

Back in the early days of Mogwai’s career, an album titled Mr. Beast would have matched the band’s Category 5 noise hurricanes perfectly. But as the Scotsmen refined their sound over the next decade, moments of levity and clarity — airy synths, strings, eerie silences — made the band’s emotional…

Once you get past the sophomoric band name (heh heh, they said wood) and the junior high-level double-entendres — the single “Take Off Your Clothes” makes references to tits, and hits rocking hard — Morningwood is pretty darned irresistible. The New York City group’s oft-delayed full-length debut whirls in a…

The Strokes were labeled the saviors of NYC’s rock ‘n’ roll scene when they oozed out of hipster enclaves (and, er, prep school) in 2001. But in the ensuing years, all of the tricks that made the fab five so exciting — snappy hooks, half-drunken confessions of love, and off-balance,…

In 2005, pop music was rock music. Between Kelly Clarkson’s tarted-up “Since U Been Gone,” Ashlee Simpson’s raspy, Courtney Love-after-a-bender vocals, and Hilary Duff’s collabs with her Good Charlotte boytoy, Joel Madden, even the biggest top 40 starlets liked their guitars cranked up to a sassy 11. Elsewhere, rockers in…

What Death Cab for Cutie does best on its major-label debut, Plans, is capture flashbulb moments of melancholy — the dissolution of a summer romance, growing apart from a lover, being dumped by an egotistical jerk — and analyze them with astounding honesty. Take the tear-inducing “What Sarah Said.” Solitary…

Thanks to Weezer’s synthesis of naked self-pity and grungy power chords, many credit the group’s 1990s output for today’s Dashboard Confessionals. In reality, the quartet gave suburban kids sanitized versions of Pavement and Sebadoh, along with a narcissism on par with that of the hair-metal icons that vocalist Rivers Cuomo…

Mope-rock bands sprouted like mushrooms in the wake of Coldplay’s global success, though few captured the genuine spirit of Chris Martin’s earnest emoting and lyrical romanticism. The Perishers are certainly among the exceptions, a band that details the darker recesses of the brain without letting melancholy overwhelm. Credit this to…

Tori Amos perfected her ability to combine creative risks with emotional introspection on early discs like 1996’s Boys for Pele, which struck a welcome balance between modern flash and old-fashioned sentimentality. But on Amos’ recent experimental albums, listeners felt curiously removed from the flame-haired faerie queen, largely because their characters…

In 2004, the line between indie and mainstream rock disintegrated even faster than Britney Spears’ quickie Vegas marriage. Vinyl obsessives mingled with white-hat-wearing fratheads at Modest Mouse shows, Taking Back Sunday debuted at number three on the Billboard charts, and Death Cab for Cutie earned O.C.-sanctioned buzz and a major-label…

The Casual Dots sound exactly how you would expect a group associated with incestuous indie stalwart Kill Rock Stars to sound — which is both good and bad. Their debut’s jumble of angular guitar shards (“Derailing”), wobbly country torch songs (“I’ll Dry My Tears”), and slack-jawed strumming (“Flowers”) maintains the…

Stop us if you think you’ve heard this one before: Fefe Dobson, a just-legal Canadian teen, has released a disc full of antidiva rock snarls, junior-prom ballads, and disses to propriety on her self-titled major-label debut. Unlike fellow Canuckette Avril Lavigne, however, Dobson whips out raw riffs and authentic attitude…

Almost everyone knows someone like Triumph — no, not a canine puppet chomping on a cigar and leering like a lecherous Bela Karolyi but a friend with a sense of humor so perverted and dirty that it boomerangs from offensive to hysterical. Poop is a comedy disc with more bitch…