#6. Drugstore -- Drugstore. After a couple of years in nondescript indie obscurity, this album sprung forth out of nowhere before the the bands redescended into indie obscurity, pausing briefly a couple of years later to feed off of Thom Yorke's rising star. The sound of "Drugstore" ages well, but how could it not when they've chosen such classic and innovative bands to pilfer from (Jesus and Mary Chain, Velvets, etc.)? They tread unsteady ground between the fury of the former and the urban folk of the latter's 3rd record. In the first instance, they often threaten to lash out on tracks like "Superglider" and "Gravity", but end up restraining themselves for unknown reasons. In the second instance, some of their more sublime moments ("Speaker 12" being the prime example) are plundered courtesy of sudden squalls of guitar. In between trying to figure out what volume they want to play at, they are quite successful at picking one level and sticking with it, such as the poignant "Accelerate" and the delicious power chorded grind of "Fader".

Isabel Monteiro's sultry voice is the album's main drawing card, but her lyrics often delve into semi-coherent stream-of-consciousness ("Nectarine") and pedantic lust and longing ("Starcrossed", "If"). And since Joan Osborne wrote such peurile and benign musings on the man upstairs, it has sabotaged any likelihood that anyone can listen to ruminations on G-d within a pop song ("Favourite Sinner" without either cracking up or hitting the mute button.