Limits of Desire is more romantic, calling on aural cues from nostalgic ’80s movies but with some modern tricks.

Morrison turns his ever-honest eyes towards fatherhood and commitment, while the band balance his emotional vulnerability on thin lines of guitar, dangling the whole thing over a churning ocean of rhythm.

The New Danger's pulse doesn't always support Mos' growing manhood. [#13, p.89]

The result is a band that has found their collective groove.

The Massachusetts trio's newfound love of meandering atmospherics plays like a Broken Social Scene doppelganger dozing off in its own sonic wanderings.

The resultant sound is crisp and lovely, and on a clear mission to please its other (the listener, maybe?).

Dead Son Rising is a dark experimental work that reminds us why Trent Reznor is an obvious fan.

The album does have spots that border on being too polished, so these Southern gents would do well to remember that everything is better with a little bit of dirt on it. [Winter 2010, p.100]

Hands play the instruments that induce you to dance and hear those sounds that make you want to feel it all.

Ra Ra Riot devotees will also recognize this electronic turn. The change, although typical of seemingly every 21st-century band, is respectfully executed, retaining Ra Ra Riot’s unique style, making this third album far less superfluous than most indie-rock bands’ later efforts.

Each song on The Spine is characteristically intelligent, observant, and poppy as all hell. [#11, p.94]

If you're looking to be moved, inspired, to scream or cry, look elsewhere. But the kids need to have their fun...so, bring it on. [Winter 2009, p.96]

This is the band's most cohesive, accessible, melodic and lyrically viscous record to date. [#21, p.99]

Besides a couple of limp late-album tag-ons, it appears that, for once, the kings of chill-out have gotten downright animated. [Fall 2009, p.96]

On their third effort, it's still the sexy that sells us.

It's hard to talk about the Editors without drawing comparisons to their Great Brit predecessors Joy Division and Echo & the Bunnymen, and on In This Light, these comparisons ring true. [Holiday 2009, p. 92]

'Emergency Call,' with its Jerry Rafferty-esque hook, marks the highpoint of the album. But the ditties are offset by introspective ballads like 'Never Looking Back,' with its mournful melody, and 'Bound,' a song in which Matt gets his dander up and renounces a woman who’s wronged him.

It's impossible to decide whether Black is tourist or guide in the land of dusty genres he evokes. [#21, p.102]

A rare debut, as well crafted as it is likeable.

The synthetics have the heavy warp that most dance floors like to roick, even as they land somewhere between Meat Beat Manifesto, Gang of Four and Ghostalnd Observatory. [Spring 2008, p.100]

Anywhere I Lay My Head is a starling achievement not because Ms. Scarlett has simply managed to cleverly re-imagine some assemblage of Tom Wait songs, but rather, because she has seized upon precisely why they affected us so much the first time round. [Spring 2008, p.91]

The Vision, the latest from bass music sensation Joker, strikes a wondrous balance of doom and poppiness.

The Fountain is replete with shimmering, flaw-repellant pop, all glorious melodies and gorgeous atmospherics; and while Will Sargent's feral guitar hounds are kept tightly leashed, Ian McCulloch rattle off couplets and takes us to dizzying heights of piercing sadness and grown-up romantic longing. [Holiday 2009, p. 93]

The band experiments with world music (“Are You What You Want To Be?”) and psychedelia (“Pseudologia Fantastic,” “A Beginner’s Guide To Destroying The Moon”) but falls short.

Even though songs 'He's Frank' and 'Toe Jam' are tremendous achievements, I Think falters too often in mediocrity, and fails to show promise of becoming as classic as it was meant to be. [Winter 209, p.103]

When Welcome To The North is at its biggest, it's also at its best. Unfortunately, that means that the record's better half comprises the last two tribal minutes of each track and a couple of exceptional highlights. [#13, p.100]

Hung on the haunting vocals of frontwoman Sarah P, At Home is no mere retread, but a full-fledged genre renaissance.

The songs possess an entrancing power but lack a certain amount of dynamism, the kind of tonal shift or chord change that sets your hairs on end, which is the hallmark of great pop music.