One might be a bit startled by how much, well, more broken this new [album] sounds. [#17, p.92]

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]

From behind her kit, Adrienne Davies keeps slow-mo time as new member Karl Blau thickly kneads deep ribbons of rumbling bass that counter Dylan Carlson's stately, dark holler melodies. The new moon suits them well.

Amazingly, only a couple of times does the broadness of what is going on get in the way or misfire... and at album's end, you can look back in wonder at how in the hell a barrel of cartoon monkeys managed to pull it off again. [#15, p.93]

The Dan Deacon machine returns from Bromst-land (relatively) leaner, (relatively) focused and (absolutely) teeming with sound.

Welcome back heavy bass and the practically patented echoing falsettos because John Dwyer’s mellow Putrifiers II mood is gone.

Kitsch aside, Amanda Palmer is one hell of a musician and lyricist, and this album, thankfully, makes good on its million-dollar expectations.

It’s a good look for him and an excellent return of the Mac.

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]

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]

The only thing odd about this genuinely explosive record is in how fearlessly it expresses it's passion. [Winter 2008, p.94]

The most direct album the band has ever assembled, Fade functions like one of the darker, LOL-averse episodes of comedian Louis C.K.’s eponymous show.

The true surprise, then, is not the feedback and guitar solos... it's the more pop-oriented structure and melodies. [#14, p.104]

It is rare to come across a record that possesses such refinement and stylization, but The Seldom Seen Kid excels at both and was more than worth the wait. [Spring 2008, p.94]

With each Atlas Sound release, the sonic effects become more interwoven, intense and impressive, and truly no one else could be writing these songs the way Cox does.

All is quite slick. It’s a touch proggy and bitter, but not without the piquancy of sauerkraut.

Admittedly, these are ideas not groundbreaking except in their delivery, which does have a rare, sobering effect upon the listener--a trademark effect of The Antlers.

Pissed Jeans satirize the languor of adulthood and unleash punk malice on unsuspecting targets.

Similar to its other releases, the band masters even the several lyric-less shorter tracks serving as musical intermissions scattered sporadically throughout.

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

This album's genuinely passionate without any sort of cheesy emotional transparency. [#6, p.81]

Though not perfect, the New Pornographers are getting closer. [#5, p.87]

Wildly alive, majestic and by turns brooding and raucous--often within the same song--The Stage Names burns with all the loneliness and adventure of a never-ending road trip.

Not content to simply cop post-punk aesthetics, these East London dread merchants are steeped in the sort dystopianism and apocalyptic anxiety that drove the likes of Killing Joke and The Banshees to such dizzying heights of foreboding.

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

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]

Berninger sounds smart and witty; but above all else, he sounds like he really went for it this time. [#15, p.105]

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.