Erasure avoids the obvious pitfalls with its usual combination of intelligence and good humor. [No. 104, p.55]

It takes a sure-footed venture into morose country territory on the album's back half before Wot feels like a departure. [No. 104, p.55]

Folly finds KOD darker and statelier than ever. [No. 104, p.57]

There's nothing here that doesn't feel like a weaker version of what he's already accomplished as a Stroke. Or as a solo artists for that matter. [No. 104, p.57]

It doesn't feel resolved by the unexpectedly bone-chilling ending, beckoning another listen. [No. 104, p.59]

It's a soul-stirring collection of Real Ramona/University-grade musical mini-masterpieces accompanied by lyrical prose vignettes exuding the same nimble friskiness and wry, subversive brilliance that characterized Hersh's fantastic 2010 memoir Rat Girl. [No. 104, p.58]

Like everything these two touch, the results are hardly astonishing, but they're just as pleasant as you please. [No. 104, p.56]

Gelb's voice remains sweet as sandpaper, setting a tone that's elegiac, lyrical and lovingly enigmatic. [No. 104, p.55]

Sonically, it's all pretty enough, but the songs rely too much on goofy valentines and cliches. [No. 104, p.55]

The pacing is only slightly faster than a brontosaurus in a tar pit, each track riding on a spine of thick lumbering guitar. [No. 104, p.54]

Non-converts will probably find it all a little too overtly stylized, but there's no questioning the singer's focus and dedication, and it's a worthy addition to the Rowland legend. [No. 104, p.54]

More often than not throughout the careening Bitter Rivals, there's clarity where there was disturbance, melody where there was once dissonance, and more nuanced vocal hooks and ditzy sonic flips than appeared on Sleigh Bells' first two records combined. [No. 104, p.51]

This portable section of the Library of Congress plays as well as it reads. [No. 104, p.56]

Glow & Behold feels like a safe play. [No. 104, p.60]

The bulk of the album feels much more controlled, and though it's technically accomplished record--as well it might be given the lineup--there's more brain than heart in the final mix. [No. 104, p.60]

Somewhere beautiful documents a fantastic 20-song set by this long-adored, seminal New Zealand band that makes you wish you'd been invited to the bash. [No. 104, p.53]

The Avett Brothers are thankfully more interested in contemporary relevance than lockstep allegiance to dusty history. [No. 104, p.52]

It's the sound of Griffin at an intriguing crossroads. [No. 104, p.56]

This time it's insipid, acousti-stomp faux-psych of the down-to-mid-tempo variety, and autopilot riffers that come off like MADtv skits about stoner metal. [No. 104, p.59]

Rarely do you stumble into a world so richly realized and so warmly, curiously inviting. [No. 104, p.58]

Double Exposure is exceedingly well-crafted. [No. 104, p.60]

[Lee delivers] some of the most impassioned performances he's ever recorded. [No. 104, p.58]

It's Canning's guitar work that makes Chill hum, and the embellishments are enough to separate it from the growing crop of Fahey followers. [No. 104, p.53]

There's a load of fuzzy power chords ruling these tunes, but they're smoothed out and nudged into the background, allowing a very capable Cosentino to take her rightful place at the front of the mix. [No. 104, p.52]

Good Graces falls just a tad flat. [No. 102, p.59]

It's a caustic dose of trashcore and punk that's light on melody, but loaded with riffs. [No. 103, p.59]

Bon Iver seems to be taking great joy in simply playing with musicians he admires. There's something really beautiful in that, and it shines throughout the whole album. [No. 103, p.52]

She's inverting the musicians' aging curve, each album more challenging and less easily digestible than the last. [No. 103, p.58]

The album proper already excellently spoke for itself 20 years ago. [No. 103, p.51]

Unexpected exits drop like hailstones throughout the Athenian psych/pop institution's 13-track 13th album. [No. 103, p.55]

The Blow is full of those breathy moments, minimalist percussive and vocal stimulations that send shivers and sparks from the headphones to the brain to the heart to the feet. [No. 103, p.53]

The pummeling drums and gnarly guitar may sound hardcore on first listen, but they're augmented by bright pop touches that make the bitter sentiments expressed in the lyrics easy to swallow. [No. 103, p.61]

The Sadies can still sound like the best rock 'n' roll band in the world, but here. for all their brilliance, they miss that steadying hand. [No. 103, p.60]

Bras finds the Knoxville, Tenn., trio scaling back the noise in favor of tuneful, even sweet performances. [No. 103, p.60]

Taken all in one sitting, the dashing Mole City is both way too much and way too little. [No. 103, p.60]

Siberia recaptures the exciting invention and fire of a lost album recorded between Today's Active Lifestyles and Exploded Drawing without a hint of any decade but the one we now sit in, plus whatever is going to musically transpire in the future. [No. 103, p.58]

In control, indeed, and not just of scathing language. His command over his songwriter's rainbow, from pop sprite to pastoral sage to rockabilly goat gruff, redlines on "Hegira Emigre." [No. 103, p.56]

More than country cousins to the Black Keys, these Allstars are the real deal. [No. 103, p.58]

It boasts riveting tempos, gripping atmospheres, imaginative chopped 'n' screwed vocal tracks and a vague sense of currency via a bass drop or two. But it also feels incredibly rote and through-the-motions. [No. 103, p.58]

The cosmic expanses of "I Love You Too, Death" and "Astro-Mancy" are particularly engrossing, but this record boasts more than enough quality head trips to keep you in it pull 'til the next go-round. [No. 103, p.57]

[A] very rewarding LP. [No. 103, p.61]

Splinter offers a hammering continuum of some of Gary Numan's most stunning synth rhythms to date. [No. 103, p.59]

All in all, the best return to original form a stadium band can risk these days. [No. 103, p.57]

All of it bears his precise touch, but the spectrum of moods he's able to conjure just got a lot wider. [No. 103, p.56]

"Invisible" offers spacy prog; "Waiting" could be a sitcom theme song, and "Living in Song" and "Mexico City Christmas" are slinky, murky and devo-ish. There are also rapid-fire, traditional indie rockers and happy summer jams. [No. 103, p.55]

Segall's hooks work well in this loud, loose-limbed environment. [No. 103, p.55]

It all makes for what might be Dr. Dog's career-defining work. [No. 103, p.54]

Throughout, McCombs hits a brilliantly unpredictable songwriting stride. [No. 103, p.57]

The tunes where this trio goes it alone are audacious. [No. 103, p.54]

The Speed Of Things has no teeth.... But the choruses are strong and the melodies catchy enough. [No. 103, p.54]

The five tracks never end far from where they begin, but they're also forever shifting. [No. 103, p.53]

Ultimately, this is really only of interest to random member of Teenage Fanclub and die-hard obsessives alike. [No. 103, p.52]

Static conveys some stylistic growing pains for the young band, but it's a captivating successor to one of the best debuts in recent years. [No. 103, p.52]

One-third of VII has the quintet living up to the folk/country billing with upbeat, chaw-spittin', porch-sittin' classics-in-waiting and depressive ballads presented in Eric Earley's stark, storytelling style. The other two-thirds have skittering keyboards and soulful backing vocals. [No. 103, p.52]

While k2o might be a little more abstract than its predecessor, the tones and textures are more fleshed out this time around. [No. 102, p.57]

While the abundance of previously unreleased rarities make this must-have fare for any self-respecting Pumpkins fan, Aeroplane does little but highlight how far past his prime Corgan is. [No. 102, p.60]

Even the twosome's weakest album has undeniable substance in its slow burn. Don't call the Yes Age just yet. [No. 102, p.58]

Dramatic tension exists throughout, but in ways Explosions fans aren't used to hearing from the band. [No. 102, p.54]

Negativity is well worth a shot, but there may be times you'll end up sleeping it off. [No. 102, p.55]

Third Eye Centre is a wonderful addendum to the band's prolific and enchanting catalog. [No. 102, p.53]

Like everyone from Young Marbles Giants to Stereolab, less is always more with ARS, making every choice more deliberate and powerful. [No. 102, p.52]

Get lost with them. [No. 102, p.54]

The album is singularly that of Ono's deliciously odd aesthetic. [No. 102, p.59]

This is music that's instantly, wordlessly evocative while also invitingly open-ended. [No. 102, p.57]

Sound System could well be a life changer, containing, as it does, the collected works of hands-down the greatest rock 'n' roll outfit the UK has produced in the last four decades. [No.102, p.51]

May's singing is the unifying thread, a balmy, melancholy-drenched tenor that brings a touch of sunshine to every word uttered. [No. 102, p.58]

It's the best album Fulks has ever made, period, and even if you can't quite make out the twister that swept away all that old anger, it's easy to hear the sweet, sad emptiness it left behind. [No. 102, p.56]

This fourth outing puts to bed both Tonight's frantic lonerism as well as any notion of a second night out with Alex Kapranos' equal-opportunity, Jacqueline-and-Michael seducer. [No. 102, p.56]

[Neko] Case misses Carrier, and it her. [No. 102, p.55]

The period specificity doesn't weigh down this buoyant album. [No. 102, p.60]

There's plenty of upbeat rockers, but a bulk of the record is made up of ballads and slower jams. [No. 102, p.57]

Almost every inch of The Worse Things Get is stout and strong-willed. [No. 102, p.52]

It's best to take each line as a scene, each song an onslaught of images, but embedded indelibly into your brain by hooks that won't quit. [No. 102, p.53]

After the mid-morning tide, recedes, the quartet repairs to its combination autobody shop/barbeque hotspot for beer-battered everything as the Wipers, Dick Dale, Burning Brides and crankshafts spin in the background. [No. 102, p.59]

Musically, it's their most ambitious release, with full orchestras and mysterious meditations of reality and fantasy. [No. 102, p.56]

Vocally, Gordon is reborn, baptized in fire. [No. 102, p.53]

Defend Yourself is virtually filler-less. [No. 102, p.52]

As ever, SSLYBY thrives most on its unyielding pleasantness. [No. 102, p.60]

Overall, this still feels very much on the level Placebo was at with 1999 single "Every You Every Me," minus more artfully constructed, impressive instrumental compositions and lyricism. [No. 102, p.59]

There's something about the sixth full-length from this Icelandic experimental electronic outfit that feels like exciting new territory--and something about it that feels like home. [No. 102, p.58]

Lanegan's stamp here is reverent-yet-indelible--think Mark Kozelek channeling AC/DC--and the organic sonic approach is an especially intriguing left turn following the electro buzz 'n' thrum of last year's resplendent Blues Funeral. [No. 102, p.57]

This could have been Costello's urban album, or his funk album, or his black album--but instead, it's simply his new album. [No. 102, p.54]

Their scope isn't quite as broad as 2011's Apocalypse or as emotionally complex as 2009's Sometimes I Wish We Were An Eagle, but they are full of sharp observations and wit. [No. 102, p.54]

AM's wheel-spinning is a bit of a letdown, but a handful of tracks keep it from being a total throwaway. [No. 102, p.52]

beyond his original albums lies three newly cobbled CDs of magic realist pop and frisky showboating folk that are endlessly fascinating. [No. 101, p.54]

Higher!'s real value is in its depth: Stone needs four CDs to display his breadth, and this comp is full of funky fun. [No. 101, p.59]

These recordings are the sound of a man back in the game and ready to pounce. [No. 100, p.52]

The most enjoyable weird record of its career. [No. 101, p.52]

Considering the improvisational skill, malleability and performing traditions of the sprawling group, this is just another solid recording on a long, strange evolutionary trip. [No. 101, p.60]

Her playing, while technically impressive, may not have quite Stetson's jaw-dropping virtuosity, but her pieces have a highly comparable mesmeric, minimalist intensity. [No. 101, p.58]

Seven bonus cuts from the same project make it more than worth picking up even for those who've worn out the original. [No. 101, p.58]

Songs Cycled completes Parks' transformation from oddball torchbearer to full-on musical time capsule. [No. 101, p.59]

It feels like the jazz/hip-hop album we've been waiting for. [No. 101, p.59]

They create fresh sonic collages that reference past epochs rather than erect shrines to exalt them. [No. 101, p.57]

Those looking for Kaufman's brand of gleefully absurd fin will surely be disappointed, as these tapes are strictly for completist diehards. [No. 101, p.57]

The LP's slow-building peak moment is "Violins And Tambourines," which is also dramatic and affected, no matter what Jones may actually be singing about. [No. 101, p.60]

It might not get the party started, but it'll sure as hell get the freshly converted pilgrims ambling. [No. 101, p.61]

For the most part, the band has deftly added its own experiences and experience to original template of its debut, and comes out gleaming in the other end. [No. 101, p.61]