A modern day West Coast classic. [#7, p.90]

"Autumnal" is the word everybody wants to use to describe this record, but that's wrong.... Out of Season has much mor eto do with winter than it does with anything so tame as the fall. [#8, p.106]

There's greatness there somewhere but Harcourt needs to spend more time feeling, not doing. [#5, p.91]

Her tragic musings finally receive the perfect accompaniment. [#14, p.105]

More of the same meaty riffs meet familiar sweaty rhythms to take you down to the Midwestern delta one more time. [#12, p.95]

As simple as the instrumentation is on the album... they use it to maximum effect. [#11, p.98]

An astoundingly complex, deeply evocative pop record. [#13, p.98]

The Chemical Brothers have always been kings of collaboration, and this album is no anomaly. [#14, p.96]

This record doesn't top 2001's All Is Dream, but the bliss of "In The Wilderness" and "The Climbing Rose" were definitely worth the wait. [#14, p.98]

Their most realized album yet. [#15, p.101]

Francis... [is] a complex, fantastically literate and genuine wordsmith and poet. [#14, p.99]

This stunning third full-length does an incredible job of riding the highest of highs. [#14, p.101]

Hip-shakingly good. [#14, p.98]

Darnielle has not lost his talent for storytelling. [#15, p.99]

The entire album segues from one loopy thrill to another. [#15, p.100]

Although Kanye's production work has certainly been more spectacular in the past, his subtle tweaks and inversions on Be provide Com with a revamped template. [#16, p.94]

The most immediate tunes are undoubtedly the headbobbing rockers, but it's when Oasis stretch themselves that they are at their most interesting. [#15, p.91]

The closest cousin to Odd’s sound is M83, but siphoned through the American ghetto instead of the French countryside. [Filter Mini, May 2005, p.16]

This is relaxed, realized, and startlingly gorgeous. [#16, p.92]

This is beautiful, intense music, trapped in their tiny, distraught world. [#16, p.93]

One of the great pleasures of Twin Cinema is the way every morsel seems to have been scrutinized. [#17, p.96]

Banhart's most straightforward recordings yet. [#17, p.94]

Ladytron have decisively transcended any particular froth of trend that may have sprouted up around them. [#17, p.98]

A brilliantly subtle string section and sparkling production make this walkabout even more visual and complex. [#17, p.102]

It's got all the allure of classic D-Mode, but there's that lingering hint of taking oneself a tad too seriously. [#17, p.97]

Tanglewood Numbers probably won't win many new fans, but it will make the cult of David grow fonder. [#17, p.104]

Makes for exquisite travel music. [#19, p.96]

It's a roots record unashamed of its roots, derivative maybe only because it's so unabashedly traditional. [#19, p.102]

More soulful and funky than any of Dangermouse's previous efforts. [#20, p.101]

AFD finds the band perhaps at their most serious... and perhaps at their most bestest. [#21, p.102]

A seeping, heaving summer album through and through.

Wonderful. [#21, p.94]

They've trimmed away the electronic tinges and space-jazz tendencies of recent years, leaving us with a sharper, more focused Yo La Tengo. [#22, p.93]

Ultimately, Viva Voce get away with incorporating (and occasionally copping) such disparate influences because around each hairpin turn runs the unique voice and vision of the artists. [#22, p.98]

Lerche croons and swoons between styles like a prophet of postmodern pomp.

His lyrics are alternately introspective and celebratory, melancholy, and the most hopeful words you'll hear in the place--sometimes all in the same song. [#24, p.102]

This funk is organic. [#24, p.90]

It's still rebellion without destination. [#25, p.89]

Imagine a keyboard-loving European version of Black Rebel Motorcycle Club. [#25, p.94]

Crowded House guys can confidently say their time on Earth is currently well-spent.

It’s existential, but under piles of heavy thoughts, Broder reaches for little bits of luminescence.

The production work throughout provides a head-bobbing, arm-waving backdrop to Kweli’s lyrical genius, exactly as it should.

This digitized voodoo funk makes the Meters look like the goddamned glee club, and y’all know the Neville Brothers ain’t never gotten Juvenile and Chali 2na to collaborate on the same record.

While there’s nothing as instantly catchy as Howl Howl Gaff Gaff’s hits, the sweeping grandeur of Our Ill Wills is infectious, with every song benefiting from just the right amount of orchestral glow.

Dark isn't a huge departure from the previous record, and it doesn't mark some major step in Hot Chip's evolution either. But there's something to be said for holding your liquor, keeping momentum, and showing the world that this whole ride is as wicked-fun as you thought it would be. [Winter 2008, p.92]

On their latest release since 2004's "Love and Distance," they seem to have figured out that it might be more effective to highlight the subtlety and grace of writing and arranging. [Winter 2008, p.96]

Dulli and Lanegan, two of today's greatest underappreciated frontmen, are hypnotic; narcotic. [Winter 2008, p.96]

Despite the array of experiences and genres at White's disposal, the album retains cohesion due mostly to the consistency of White's voice, which is strictly country. [Winter 2008, p.98]

While the band still has its head in the clouds, or beyond, it has made its finest, most listenable album to date. [Spring 2008, p.98]

Elephant Shell is like a summertime record, easy and stress-free. [Spring 2008, p.92]

The final result sounds like the perfect accompainment to a Michel Gondry film: endlessly craetive, ceaselessly ambitious, yet extremely accessible at thge very same time. [Spring 2008, p.103]

Lookout Mountain, Lookout Sea is the most assured and poignant album since the band's third, "American Water." [Spring 2008, p.97]

Self-referential, poetic, spoken-sung performances in dirty beer halls, Midwest anthems that make everyone raise those beers in the beer halls. [Summer 2008, p.92]

Chemical Chords is yet another kaleidoscope that hits you as ear candy upon first listen, but like most Stereolab records, further inspection reveal a playground for the mind. [Summer 2008, p.97]

You & Me has a panache that hearkens to an earlier era, acting like a rich veneer. Layers of energy, intimacy and meaning rise to the surgace to become a deeper part of you and me with each and every listen. [Fall 2008, p.91]

In brief, it's one of the grooviest albums you'll hear--Saudi Arabia, here, or anywhere else. [Fall 2008, p.100]

Microcastle shows Deerhunter [sic] progresing with reason, creating one of their best releases yet. [Fall 2008, p.92]

Start-stop measures, tempo changes and harmonized vocals all make the album a grand listen. [Winter 2009, p.98]

Despite its wandering parts and spacious production, Bitte Orca is a precise groove, almost medical in the way it delivers its complexity with such simple terms. [Spring 2009, p.100]

Josephine isn't a drastically different approach for Magnolia Electric Co., but it's a lovely one that bears repeated listening, preferably at night while alone on the open road. [Summer 2009, p.94]

Air is as essential as ever, and has succeeded in writing another album of inspiration, tantalizing music. [Fall 2009, p.91]

Surprise and relief are the words that best describe an initial reaction to Embryonic. [Fall 2009, p.90]

This boxset--quite literally a suitcase--highlights four distinct sides of one of the most prolific icons of the pre-dylan era, and introduces both unreleased and released tracks to a new generation in themed installments. History is back in session. [Fall 2009, p.100]

The best live music doesn’t attempt to just mirror the recordings, but expands upon them, highlighting a performer’s chemistry with the band and audience. When Waits does that, the illusion works; when he doesn’t it’s like seeing the cards tucked up a magician’s sleeve.

The resulting album comes across, for the most part, as a peaceful, relaxing--if extremely weird--trip through a newfound musical slipstream. [Holiday 2009, p. 98]

Krohn's the real deal, in a world full of one-dimensional derivatives. [Holiday 2009, p.100]

The resulting album comes across, for the most part, as a peaceful, relaxing—if extremely weird—trip through a newfound musical slipstream.

All Days Are Nights: Songs for Lulu is Wainwright's most personal album since Poses. He makes pain sound beautiful.

Continue to muse, and this strange, wonderfully unexpected work of art becomes one of the most mature (and stirring) narratives on intimacy, fidelity, and hesitant honesty heard in a long while.

Young's sandblasting electric guitar sits handsomely alone before eerie rumbling atmospheres.

Despite some small stutter steps, Collapse Into Now is easily the best R.E.M. album since the trio lost its way.

With its techno-shock, hardcore buzz and jive-stepping live funk, Hot Sauce Committee Part Two is the strongest work the Beasties have put out in over a decade and comes close to replicating the dizzy highs of 1994's Ill Communication.

New York's experimental sonic collective continues to make challenging and rewarding music on Eye Contact.

The stark contrast between frontman Ellery Robert's guttural, yell-sing vocals and the squeaky-clean instrumentation not only works harmoniously, but also creates a distinct and commanding sound.

Vincent Morisset directs Inni in a minimalist, enigmatic black and white that captures all of the elegance, somberness and chilling majesty of what might be the most singular and unparalleled band of their generation.

Another outstanding entry from the electro-enclave, Brooklyn-based Bear in Heaven's I Love You, It's Cool is a slick ride.

If Beach House's last record was a teen dream, this is an adult version: Bloom is a matured, ethereal journey.

Banga finds the artist more robust than ever-ageless, even.

Anastasis is a positively rapturous return for the Dionysus and Aphrodite of modern musical transcendence.

Here, the band has returned from the cold with a tight, extraordinary album that is lush and satisfying--yet still in the corners just a little bit sad.

Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness' triumphs far outweigh its failures. This impressive expanded edition drives that point home by giving insight into the record's rich gestational process.

Captivating to its core, it will undoubtedly soundtrack countless mushroom-fueled spirit quests and soul-searching walkabouts for light years to come.

Disturbing, intense and emotionally stark. [#5, p.89]

The music is so completely absorbing and evocative... it's possible to virtually recreate the film in your head. [#7, p.93]

Even though it's more than good, you eventually find yourself thumbing through your CD piles in search of that first record. [#7, p.87]

The album is overflowing with modern day punk-pop anthems, dressed up with technological marvels and justifiably bleak outlooks. [#5, p.89]

One of the most successful sonic experiments this side of "Let there be light." [#6, p.82]

Tricky hasn't planted his flag on any new territory, but he has gotten a stronger grasp of what has made him such an intriguing and important artist in the last decade. [#6, p.90]

Dear Heather, while slow and deep like all of Cohen's albums, carries its own rich surprises. [#13, p.95]

Despite the '80s tag and influences worn plainly on sleeves, Phoenix always come across strangely earnest and never cheesy. [#11, p.98]

There's a chunk of empathy lodged between the many splurges of drool-dripping, volume-blasting guitar wankery. [#5, p.88]

A choice specimen of audio sophisitication. [#9, p.106]

Infectious. [#11, p.98]

The irony is that the closer Reed gets to his present material, the more alive it becomes. [#10, p.87]

Acoustic guitars, violin, vibes and brush stroked drums all help maintain this steady mellow tone that's about as comforting as a warm bath after three sleepless days of jetlag. [#8, p.106]

[Van Dyke] Parks' masterful touch transforms the Thrills from barroom favorites to starry-eyed chancers with a shot at the big time. [#12, p.105]

It literally sounds like the Strokes, but it lacks heart. Which means it replicates the first album in form, but not substance. [#8, p.100]

It's simple, easy listening. [#11, p.98]

Its sounds are equally rich and emotive, just not as goblin-esque [as Contino Sessions]. [#5, p.91]

With honeyed vocals and the tender touch of acoustic guitar, he is already showing signs of songcraft perfection on his second LP. [#9, p.109]

Try as you might, there's no pushin it out. [#12, p.101]

The collection is over too soon, but not without a perfect conclusion. [#14, p.103]

Where it seemed the individual songs on Danse Macabre filled out and stretched the seams of its pop confines, Wet From Birth proposes a more intricate and ambitious space. [#12, p.93]

In both theme and effect, DiFranco's latest is about the reassurance in chronicling minutiae. [#14, p.100]

The rare album that works smoking alone, engaged in a postprandial conversation, or sharing a cigarette and scotch with a friend. [#14, p.101]

The tunes are almost more like short stage scenes than mere songs about people, but the band does well to prevent them from coming off as cheesy allegories so that even the illiterate boors out there can enjoy their downright pretty moments. [#15, p.101]

Taken on its own, any one of these songs is pretty good--and some are really good--but Lullabies to Paralyze is held prostrate by an overall lack of variety not made up for by kitsch or vigor. [#14, p.94]

Open Season opts for simplicity, its plainest moments being its most transcendent, and for the most part, it carries you along. [#15, p.92]

While you may see Hot Hot Heat as you want to see them--a one trick pony who turned their backs on their noise roots--we see them as a band more than capable of evolution and growth and mature songwriting. [#15, p.92]

The stunning One Beat of 2002 is a tough act to follow, and The Woods pulls it off soundly (though not exceedingly) by slicing together another improbable mash of grace and chaos all in the service of elaborately unhinged melodies. [#15, p.95]

Of the three Stephen Malkmus solo albums, this is the one that sounds the most like Pavement. [#15, p.91]

Feels exactly like a dance-less, British-not-Scottish Franz Ferdinand who have been deeply infused with Sgt. Peppers' '60s pop whimsy. [#16, p.90]

The duo has not lost their touch for writing memorable tunes. [#16, p.92]

A welcome return. [#16, p.96]

Who else but Madness could pull off covers of the Supremes and the Kinks on the same record? [#17, p.94]

It's cosmic Americana as once charted by Mercury Rev in the druggier days of yerself Is Steam and Boces. [#17, p.101]

Chock full of indie anthems that possess the straightforward bravado of early Oasis singles, the punch of Ash's finest moments and Kurt Cobain's ear for a pop hook amidst the noise and confusion. [#19, p.101]

Irresistible. [#22, p.93]

It's sprawling, ambitious pop music. It's just not perfect--not yet. [#20, p.92]

[It] starts off pretty much where the previous one left off, with Skinner feeling sorry for himself. This time though, he does so with greatly improved production values. [#20, p.97]

Yeah, it's good: vintage rock. [#20, p.92]

This is the closet Dulli has come to replicating the genius he displayed with the Whigs, but it's not a retread. [#20, p.100]

The band has seized upon that sloshy saunter that we love and turned it into an elaborate dance. [#20, p.94]

[Kasher's] storytelling is still right up there with the very highest of Saddle-sitters. [#21, p.97]

These touches of color set this album above its pasty-skinned, post-rock cronies and prove National Anthem of Nowhere an apt title. [#24, p.92]

Ruff Draft is live, and you need to play it loud enough to wake the dead. [#24, p.98]

Their most triumphant mix of fuzzed-out fury, face-melting fretwork and merry-but-messy melodies.

Warmer than previous efforts. [#25, p.102]

No explanation needed--it's just great. [#25, p.96]

A proudly odd hybrid always on the edge of destruction. [#25, p.104]

The band’s self-titled fourth record takes only seconds to signal the triumphant homecoming of the guitar.

We still have a band trying to blow your mind with pure musicianship and experimentation, while having the balls to show restraint and even unabashed posie-sniffing beauty.

Level Live Wires, like "Waking Life," is not simply art for art’s sake, but rather an invitation to drift off into bliss within your own head, guided and fueled by the creative juices of another.

But without a doubt the change on White Chalk is steps beyond those we have seen from PJ in the past, which makes one question her intent.

If there’s a criticism to be volleyed, it’s that In Our Bedroom After the War’s direction frequently changes dramatically, rendering the set of songs as a smattering of smart, soft ideas that are expertly executed rather than a cohesive collection of material.

While Grass Geysers…Carbon Clouds shows that Schmerse is still refining and fucking with his most primal pop tendencies, it’s most impressive because this time around, it’s not just Enon that makes the record special.

Slide guitars and steel drums seduce the listener into a world of gentle pain, making for a sophomore album that is, like its predecessor, a beautiful collection of songs and images seemingly constructed upon repulsion and ennui.

Hynes poppy solo debut is packed with romantic up and downs and love-induced nausea, making for easy listen of well-produced, structurally sound guitar/piano folk. [Winter 2008, p.94]

It sounds like the freak show has just rolled into town--better get your tickets quick, because this is one spectacle well worth the price of admission. [Winter 2008, p.103]

The tasteful kiddy nature and contrastingly mature metaphors, literary lessons and appropriate disdain, all end with a sense of urgency, making for an impressively full album [Winter 2008, p.100]

Butler and company have crafted a brilliant tribute to the glorious euphoria of getting down in the big city. [Summer 2008, p.96]

The group's music is ghostly and ethereal, creating a sonic wall that is set against some of the lovelist, shimmering retro-electro-disco you've ever heard. [Spring 2008, p.102]

Throughout, there are pieces that defy the term "song" and exist more as sonic collages--intriguing bits of paste and mortar between tracks--providing ethereal contemplation and occasional abrasive interludes before returning to the more traditional song structure that is anything but traditional. [Winter 2008, p.100]

The results is a mix of creep and fabulous dance hits that will neither change the world nor excite you to start any fires. [Spring 2008, p.97]

A Nordic slice of pop heaven that ranges from electro-Calypso bizarrity to hand clap-driven electro anthems about "Breaking It Up." [Summer 2008, p.102]

The duo might just be a match made in heaven, as Hymn and Her is one of the most cohesive two-voiced albums in recent history. [Summer 2008, p.94]

Like Brock and even Andrew Bird, Sam Jayne can slipstream between genres without missing a heartbeat. [Spring 2008, p.96]

Lovers of perverse pop, rejoice! [Summer 2008, p.92]

There are some raucous shout-alongs (with pots and pans!), but the band keeps it cohesive as singer Van Pierszalowski steers them through thoughtful waters--standing boldly triumphant in the face of the rempest. [Spring 2008, p.89]

How can Scots with such a wry sense of humor make you believe they are so very, very serious? Sometimes the song titles speak for themselves, almost seperate from the music. [Fall 2008, p.94]

Furr's tight structures and stripped bones soar. Not that they've abandoned that record's ["Wild Mountain Nation"] sonic spectrum entirely; there's plenty of buried headphones treasures throughout, and they still steal gleefully from your parents' best records. [Fall 2008, p.92]

The singer's quivering tenor is still fixated on death and a dystopian future....It'd be scarier if it didn't follow a song about a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles costume, but that's VanGaalen's charm. [Fall 2008, p.98]

Electric Arguments makes a gravity defying leap from his supine position atop past laurels with an album showcasing incredibly raw rock, complimented by totally-not-cheesy electronic production. [Holiday 2008, p.98]

It remains instrumentally raucous, emotionally battered, and unaplogetically fun. [Winter 2009, p.100]

While Auerbach may or may not be keeping anything removed from sight, what he's revealed so far will keep us coming back for more. [Winter 2009, p.92]

The effort drags a tad in its center, but the heaviness of The Drones' material has never been devalued by a bit of lag. [Winter 2009, p.106]

Even when you can't quite understand what she's on about, you are happily lured into a world where classic myth yearns for modern ritual, and you're quite happy to be in a place nobody will quite understand. [Winter 2009, p.106]

Just enjoy the ride and don't ask any questions. [Spring 2009, p.97]

Ramblin' Jack Elliott has teamed up with producer Joe Henry to deliver a starkly dimensional and soulful collection of dark blues. [Winter 2009, p.94]

Just as you're really gearing up for a night on the town with Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix as your sidekick, it ends abruptly. There's only one remedy: Play it again. And Again, And again. [Spring 2009, p.94]

Wilco (The Album) adds yet another chapter to the story, and if this band's relevance is to continue going forward, then let the resilent closer 'Everlasting Everything ' score our impending sunrise. [Summer 2009, p.90]

Hospice accomplishes volumes by the addition of drumer Michael Lerner and multi-instrumentlist Darby Cicci, creating an expansively profound album addressing life's most transitory and fragile states. [Summer 2009, p.94]

Exploding Head is another raucous ode to My Bloody Valentine meets The Jesus and Mary Chain shoegaze. But that’s what’s indicative about this band--although its references are often cited; Exploding Head has that passion needed in reinvigorating a sub-genre.

A basement-made bundle of hypnotic unpredictability, this one looks to be a grower.

This is not one to be missed, kissed with the promise that beauty and depth in songs still matters. [Holiday 2009, p.102]

Have One On Me is Newsom at her best: precious without being cloying, subtle without being indecipherable, beautifully written and sweetly played.

The Monitor finds the New Jersey band swimming ina similar cesspool of whiskey and shit, with nothing but a proud hangover--and one hell of a record--to show for it. [Winter 2010, p.98]

The Morning Benders have grown from playing taut three-minute melodies to sophisticated chamber pop with a focus on ambiance and layered harmonies.

It's easily the most focused album of Schneider's career.

Like all good things—especially good byes—it comes to an end. And with that, Mr. Murphy goes out on top.

Autolux crawls through sophomore album Transit Transit, paring the exquisite agony of rush hour traffic with Lynchian surrealism.

Another resplendent nonpareil from Eno (and a collaborative improvisation with Leo Abraham and Jon Hopkins), this is veritably a spontaneous soundtrack to an inferential film, one that is essentially revealed in the imagination of the listener.

The Concretes have always been masters of pop and with WYWH the band pushes beyond the current obsession for Euro-beat synth disco pervading everything.

It's the perfect record to listen to while you sit and wait for the next comet to pass, as Mascis sounds long shy of extinction.

Easily their best, most cohesive album yet, No Color shines brightly-continuing to push the band to new levels of musicianship and songwriting.

This album requires less listening and more feeling for one to get the message, something that most of us could all use a little more of.

Apocalypse is Bill Callahan's newest cryptic journey into the heart and art of this American life.

Good music transcends throughout time, and The Sea and Cake is one of few that do it right.

Awash in trippy reverb and surf-rock riffs, Arabia Mountain is further proof that the Lips have matured.

Delivering a disarmingly beautiful mix of vocal harmony pop alongside blippy electronic beats, Epstein and Zott honor the melodic tradition of The Beach Boys (the two included an amazing cover of "God Only Knows" on their EP) to create one of the best debuts of the year.

The whole package is a head-snapping reminder that when R.E.M. was on fire, you couldn't put them out with all the water in the world.

The attempt to cross unbridgeable distances, whatever the outcome, defines The Whole Love.

[It] transcends sonic genres with a mature exploration of a global village too distracted to notice it's shorting itself.

The challenging but exceedingly rewarding Biophilia is at its heart a deeply moving, mind-expanding tribute to how that most ineffable of human achievements.

Solo, Ramsey doesn't need suspense to conjure beauty; just riff like The Byrds and sink serenely into the grass.

Something is a huge leap of cohesive maturity.

Extremely loud, snarling and exciting, it takes the duo's signature mash-up of '80s metal, '50s girl-group and '70s arena-rock sensibilities and cranks up the tension to Adderall-overdose levels.

It's simply one of the best rock records of our so-far shallow year.

Sun Kil Moon's Mark Kozelek revels in the succulent melancholy of sad autumn evenings in the backseat, garlanded with the shadow words of life's heaviness, clearly woven by a master of spiritual spelunking.

APTBS's newest, the relentlessly brilliant Worship, seems designed to drive the listening public violently to their knees.

The channel still churns on Swing Lo Magellan, but Longstreth has built sturdy songs with solid foundations here, trapping his confusion in a container.

After four triumphant releases, and no matter where they go, it's clear we can trust Band of Horses, one of America's biggest and best rock and roll bands, to deliver.

P.O.S. takes a page from labelmate Aesop Rock, but with less verbosity and more purpose, more swagger; the record starts slow, but good luck putting it down.

There was always a sense that, if given wings, the songs would soar to empyrean reaches. And this live, symphonic recording with the Danish National Chamber Orchestra bears that out to dazzling and devastating effect.

The only drawback is, of course, that the songs that do this best are better than the ones that don't...but there aren't many of those.

It’s less catchy than Wolfgang but also more creative and more satisfying.

The multiple guest stars on each and every one of these 14 tracks have been upgraded from the regional heroes found on 2009 Lazer debut Guns Don’t Kill People Lazers Do to bona fide industry studs on Free the Universe. Some might view this third-world talent invasion as a form of dancehall imperialism, but there is depth here, respect, knowledge and oodles of heart... and enough freaky fun to dagger 52 weekends away.

Some of the songs get a bit sleepy, though, and at times it's like listening to a less insightful Leonard Cohen. [#5, p.92]

The progression into synthetics and New Order-isms seems so natural, it's almost hard to imagine the Dandys could ever have made music any other way. [#7, p.86]

ET streaks the gauntlet from breaks to hip-hop to trance and downtempo with seamless, soothing fluidity. [Oct 2003, p.90]

This should be playing in every thump-and-hump club in the world. [#5, p.92]

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

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

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

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

A beautifully wrought collection of ballads for the brokenhearted. [#11, p.96]

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]