We come to this band expected to be thrown down the Trainspotting toilet, and this is exactly where The Last Romance takes us. [#19, p.90]

The rhymes and stripped, off-kilter soul samplings are more "Mm...Food" than "Madvillainy," which is to say they're colorful with phrases clipped to punctuate a particularly satifactory punchline or rhyme conclusion. [Spring 2009, p.91]

The echo-chamber drums and forlorn strings crescendos that epitomize Camera Obscura's discography blossom on standouts like the Ronettes-like single 'French Navy,' country-rocker 'Forest And Sands,' and full-band travelogue pouter 'The Sweetest Thing.' [Spring 2009, p.100]

Finally, the soundtrack to your most ineffable longings.

Mashing up hypnotic chants, beguiling banjo licks, head-spinning melodies and sonic tomfoolery, these 11 cinematic songs are the pseudo-psychedelic soundtrack to a most wonderful dream.

It’s the aural equivalent of sweet syrup—slow, molasses-y and utterly satisfying.

The production is minimal, leaving II feeling pure and honest.

Though he occasionally buries his vocals under distortion, Cox is undeniably the star of the show. [Fall 2009, p.106]

Peer Amid is the ultimate soundtrack for fighting your way to enlightenment.

Effortless pop with an undenaible solo-era Stephen Malkmus quality that just makes you want to go on a long drive. [#22, p.100]

So until the radio stations get it right..make of the wicked what you will. Ferocity will never feel so fuzzy, nor fear so inviting. [Spring/Summer 2010, p.104]

To put it plainly, Actor is St. Vincent's doe-eyed awakening. [Spring 2009, p.94]

God bless Tunng for making what is otherwise one of the more obnoxious genres of music (Folktronica) so damned delectable.

It's ultimately a pop album, reflective and thoughtful, and these songs are just that: songs. [#12, p.97]

The Weakerthans’ music ages well, and when they free themselves from style and are left to focus purely on their music, it never fails to make you feel special—thus making the Weakerthans a perfect band for fandom.

This is not Cave's best work by any means, but these songs do showcase his impressive range as a lyricist, performer and musician. [#12, p.100]

If last year's sublime Sunlandic Twins was Kevin Barnes' ode to "Oslo in the Summertime," Hissing Fauna recalls his Winter of Discontent.

The Norwegian DJ does a deft job of ambling between Italo, folk, disco, acoustic sounds and the odd sprinkling og old-school video game beeps here and there. [Winter 2008, p.100]

FUZZ is commanding and infectious--this could be the project Segall was born for.

Where other lo-fi pop registers as slack and emaciated, Secret Cities prop their brittle melodies up with adroit tape manipulation, wide-eyed field recordings, and electronic doodling straight out of Terry Riley's songbook. [Spring/Summer 2010, p.108]

Flourishes of horns add to the traditional band instrumentation, giving Bragg a solid foundation on which to convey his message. [Spring 2008, p.92]

The final product does its players incredible justice, as each pluck and stoke resonates to a chilling effect. [Winter 2008, p.100]

So here we have another U2 album that's just as good as the last one. In fact, it's really good. [#13, p.88]

To say that this disc is merely great "psych-folk from Sweden" would be to ignore its more, um, intimate qualities.

Fey, agonized chamber pop at its most tortuously fetching. [#25, p.90]

An unflinching major label debut, as well as a straight rock album that straddles confidently that tricky space between rawness and posturing. [#10, p.95]

It's just a series of strangely gorgeous, breezy tunes from two awkward Norwegians who continue to remind us that love can be confusing, joy dark and pain very beautiful. [Fall 2009, p.98]

Subdued guitar work and sleepy rhythms provide a solid underpinning for the airy melodies, keeping them from drifting away like freshly-blown bubbles.

Superchunk continues fishing for perfection--and, as always, the band brings the hooks.

No explosions, no chiseled features on the album cover, and no glossy syrup in the mix. Just a classic gift for combining word and melody, a simple but rare recipe. [#8, p.105]

The Stand Ins is rich with traces of its conterpart. [Fall 2008, p.92]

Love This Giant is a sprawling behemoth, if not greater than the sum of its parts, then certainly twice as weird.

The songs are almost too precious, demanding total attention to appreciate the subtle fluctuations in texture and tone. [#25, p.102]

It’s hard to tell if the band wants us to revel along in their psychosis or throw up our hands with disgust.

Hold Time marks Ward's third, and best chance to skip the three-peat pattern for sneaking under the radar with his name near the top. [Winter 2009, p.92]

As strong as his previous records may be, on Gloucester County Smith sounds as if there's nothing left to prove. And so there's no longer any reason to doubt.

Boldly, magnificently, unabashedly sappy. [#12, p.104]

After seven years of experiementing, Petersen has found his niche. [Winter 2009, p.100]

The Tallest Man on Earth continues his approach; it's both likable and rousing.

There's more meat on this album's bone than on the laughable Fatherfucker. [#21, p.99]

Male Bonding can't help but balance themselves on an axis of sweet melody.

You can call it emo or you can call it hip-hop, but you have to call it some kind of wonderful. [#25, p.94]

The album marks the first time Black Lips’ unconscious bar anthems have sounded completely, well, developed.

Not since Cornelius' Fantasma has the element of surprise manifested itself as fully as on this record. [#9, p.110]

Brown has an unlikely knack for putting quality into cliched, classic disco and rock. [Holiday 2008, p.106]

Just think of it as Diet Strokes. [#24, p.100]

Little has changed for Crystal Stilts since 2008's Alight of Night, though maybe the guitars cheered up a bit. That's A-OK; they come through with such a sort of oblivious, Suicide-meets-Spiritualized feel, you'll be in love, too.

These songs would stand on thier own in terms of sound alone, but it's the addition of Bazan's thoughtful lyrics that make this perhaps his most powerful and interesting album thus far. [Summer 2009, p.94]

On Son, Molina's electro-acoustic compositions have grown from the artful backdrops of her first two records into nearly sentient stand-alone creations. [#20, p.92]

This is nowhere near a bad album. [#12, p.95]

This makes for an important sophomore release that is even more sweepingly seductive than "Fort Nightly." [Spring 2009, p.92]

[Happy To You is imbued] with a new coherence, grandiosity and ambition that totally overshadows the quite well-developed debut album.

Stereolab don't stray too far from their formula, and for once that's a really good thing. [#10, p.88]

From the adrenal rock-and-roll guitars on "Cheap Beer" to the guttural shrills on "Cocaine," every song here champions that adult adolescence and "f*** it" ideology that has always made the genre so damn appealing.

While Breaks takes a few tracks to pick up traction, Bachmann's true grit comes through.

This ain't no Chickenfoot; this is the really really real deal.

An album awash in evocative warmth. [#9, p.111]

As soon as AM’s 12 tracks are over, you’ll be lunging for the play button again--it’s that good.

An electric moment for Lilys. [#19, p.96]

Precise dissonance has long been Stern's strong point, and when paired with a super-human stamina she careens through a 10-track album without any sense of relief until it's all over; every note is climatic, every vocal a yelp.

Music for smoking and looking bored has rarely ever been this decisively brilliant. [#10, p.98]

At 74, one of American music's patriarchs sounds as sprite as ever, kicking off with a great honky-tonk anthem, the joyous title song.

The feel is melancholic and reflective, despite being punctuated by a few uptempo tracks, but the urgency of Sheff's vocals and rich, layered arrangements make I Am Very Far both fascinating and memorable.

Rife with evocations of springtime and shooting stars and first loves. [#19, p.102]

Volume Two sees the return of She & Him and with fantastic results. Any shyness surrounding Deschanel’s songwriting on the first record has melted away, and here she is unabashed, graceful and poignant. Ward has followed suit, fleshing out the production canvas right along with Deschanel's ever-growing gusto.

Imagine if !!! were to trim down the intense jams and adopt light vocal harmonies a la the Shins. [#15, p.95]

With a hypnotic sound, magical mood and some Cat Power-inspired fairy-like vocals, L.A. based Warpaint has created a debut album to fall in love with-and to.

Together they've embraced more experience and experimentation for captivating results. [Winter 2009, p.100]

Album is an astoundingly good record in its own right, but the omni-directional growth showcased on Father, Son, Holy Ghost is nearly overwhelming.

Take out the organ, slow down the drums and you might confuse a few songs with Bay Area band Sleep's legendary Dopesmoker album. But it's the things that prevent easy comparison that make Wooden Shjips the kickass band they are.

Her throaty vocals and winsome lyrics recall the Jamaican patois and patience of her youth, while the title track shows off a Grace Jones delighting in a frightening form of future-forward decadence.

While some songs may become tedious, like the lengthy "Hannibal," the album as a whole is a great addition to the Caribou discography.

Start at the beginning and let it play all the way through: The Orchard gives us an achingly mature version of a band yet to fail.

While the synthesized sheen of '80s pop hasn't held up for everyone, even casual listeners will discover a new appreciation for the artist underneath superficiality and infamy.

Sylvianbriar brings a sunny openness to of Montreal’s ever-evolving cache with its sweeping changes in styles and instrumentation and adherence to more traditional song structures.

Doubtless the closest she'll ever come to letting you dance in the madfields of her mind with her. [#12, p.94]

On its third album, the group doesn’t so much tone this down as weave these elements into a more elaborate and adventurous record.

Cloud Nothings' self-titled debut displays Baldi's feral chops in natural light.

While the band introduces new elements with this release, its shoegaze dream-pop still underlies each track, with many familiar experimental tangents scattered throughout.

Blak & Blu proves that an outstanding talent isn't predicated on having a signature song, and that the 28-year-old is worthy of the hype thrown his way.

It’s a testament to how much Callahan has evolved that an album under his name can exist with his vocals largely absent. The productions have become as much of the imagery as his songwriting.

The Norwegian band’s debut full-length Between Places drips with a youthful joie de vivre.

Equal parts drawn-out and dreamy. [#16, p.97]

For the most part, he sounds fresh-faced and ready to charge back into the fray.

The fact that this album doesn't fit as neatly with their most popular album, The Con, is a good sign--the girls aren't yet ready to rest on their laurels, and instead continue to push their music dynamically forward.

Post Tropical should gain McMorrow plenty of new fans, and it certainly won’t lose him any.

Smalhans is all the luscious layering, thoughtful breakdowns, sneaky beats and catchy positivity fans would expect with some cockier, more straightforward dance moves included, as well.

Straddling the line between wooshy Sega Genesis menu music and cinematic Pink Floyd maelstrom, Deep Politics is creepy and grand, and at its core is a sonic feast.

Simply put, Themes is Pink at his most vivid.

Amidst the fuzz and noise, Segall has turned out a raucous blitz of an album that deserves your play, if it doesn't break your speakers first.

Sure it's louder, but it's too self-disciplined and too well-arranged. [#19, p.96]

Portner has long oozed an anarchic and, at times, gloomy essence as Animal Collective's alpha songwriter, and Down There feels quite content wallowing in this murky bath.

Rife with an irresistible charm, sly English wit, and supremely catchy choruses. [#10, p.98]

It's easy to zone out, but during several tracks you could be staring at a carpet stain for five minutes and still have time to screw your head back on to hit the moments of triumph. [Winter 2008, p.92]

A major label debut filled with the sound of his smoky baritone voice, front and center.

Information Received is expertly manicured but never manufactured.

If these are supposed to be feel-good songs, they sure do work just fine.

Oneida have blossomed into a welcoming landscape all their own. [#21, p.102]