At points it's jazzy, then psychedelic, then with the sort of undulating groove that makes you wonder what it might have sounded like if Booker T jammed with the Average White Band. [Mar 2024, p.81]

The histrionic power ballad title track is an undeniable hoot. It's just a shame that so little of the rest of the album makes any lasting impression. [May 2018, p.90]

Sure, there are standout, radio-ready moments, with Song #3 and Fabuless, while the bounce-along Friday Knights propels your arms into the air, but the grit has been sandblasted away and the edges polished. And with 15 tracks, it’s a bit of a slog. Still, when it hits, they know how to hit hard.

Crow redeems herself somewhat with the useful chorus of the I-love-my-kids closer Waiting In The Wings, but only somewhat. Some good singles, as always, but unfortunately a long way from career highlights Sheryl Crow and The Globe Sessions. [May 2024, p.79]

Overall, too much of The Endless River is suffocated by prog-normative dreariness and a high, conventional varnish. [Dec 2014, p.98]

Their punk training doesn’t quite lend them that particular grace. As a result, this can feel like a bit of a rough ride in places, albeit an intriguing one.

A muddled attempt to signal contemporary relevance. [Oct 2019, p.88]

F.E.A.R. is so overripe it's fermenting. [Mar 2015, p.91]

Tasteful and eloquent. ... minus the killer tunes. [Nov 2018, p.85]

Like their 60s albums, it’s a hodgepodge of self-penned songs and songs written by others, with a few vintage rave-ups thrown into the mix--‘mix’ being the operative word for this patchy affair.

King monkey contemplates his navel. [Apr 2019, p.89]

This slick trio from Dripping Springs, Texas add cloying twang to yacht-rock tropes to asset-stripping effect. [Sep 2019, p.87]

This House Is Not For Sale is no masterpiece, and while the punchy title track sonically nods to their heyday, most of it is made up of by-numbers pop.

[The Fratellis] still lack an identity beyond the decent Glaswegian doggedness that has got them this far.

There’s no pretense of indie cool here. Drive Me Wild features a blaring sax for an 80s viewed through a prism of nostalgia for a decade they never knew, and a towering, phones-in-the-air chorus, while ballad Cry ups the overblown ante even further.

If you’re a fan of the more raucous, high-octane twang-stompers this band are best known for, you might find this a strangely sedate, mid-tempo affair.

Longtime fans of the band's intense, neck vein-popping hardcore rock'n'roll have to hunt and peck their way through this album to find the good stuff. [Jun 2019, p.89]

Padded out with uneven live albums, indifferent remixes and anodyne film soundtrack songs, this 120-track package makes for depressingly arid listening in places. That said, no anthology that includes the heart-soaring Absolute Beginners or the high-gloss Let’s Dance can be considered a total wash-out.

The results sound thin, contrived and ultimately laborious. [Aug 2020, p.89]

Quiet Town and Runaway Horses exhibit tender lyrical themes, and there's brief respite in the dreamy haze of Sleepwalker and Pressure Machine. However, nostalgia and the shattering of childhood idylls reoccur through In the Car Outside and In Another Life. [Oct 2021, p.78]

An album full of lo-fi pop-tinged melodies sugarcoating a bitter centre. [Summer 2021, p.86]

There's little subtlety displayed in their mission, and not much in the way of memorable tunes either. [Sep 2018, p.90]

Despite the inclusion of unreleased material and early versions of Crime In The City and Ordinary People, there’s little here to entice anyone but the hardcore fan.

Dream Nails are the 21st-century Mambo Taxi. Who? Exactly. [May 2020, p.83]

Strange Fruit is a nervy choice, respectfully done. Like most of the record, it's also pretty redundant. [Summer 2013, p.92]

A haunted, husky-voiced cover of the Lennon/McCartney classic And I Love Her is another highlight, invoking the naked beauty of Nirvana’s 1993 Unplugged session. But these are rare meaty morsels in a musical slop bucket of scraps. At best, Montage Of Heck is an ideal Christmas present for the most undemanding of Cobain completists. At worst, a barrel-scraping cash-in that demeans his legacy.

A rather predictable record. [May 2015, p.107]

'Zingers exhibit a whole lotta heart. But sometimes heart alone's not enough. [Dec 2023, p.79]