The album's most human aspect is its contradictory nature, an ultimate lack of emotion that make the exhilarating Homework and the sentimental Discovery so accessible. [#67, p.90]

How in god's name did Damon Gough fall so far? [#74, p.90]

It's hard to imagine reaching for No Pier Pressure when you could choose from all those great(and even not-so-great) Beach Boys albums from 40 or 50 years ago. [No. 119, p.60]

Every move this unit makes feels intrinsically and unaccountably right in all sorts of inexplicable ways. [No.92 p.57]

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]

It's difficult to imagine even a hardcore completist wanting to hear Chilton's interminable orgasmic noises on the title track, long stretches of drunken studio banter or yet another two versions of Third's "Jesus Christ." [No. 144, p.53]

The album's back half tones it down a bit, though the overarching tropical themes get a bit extreme. [No. 122, p.55]

Unlike a deadmau5 or Skrillex, Van Dyk can only do his one style, and by the time the album is two-thirds over, you're already ready for him to mix out. [#86, p.59]

After all these years, the band still possesses no originality or musical inventiveness that could distinguish it from the pack. [No. 93, p.58]

All of [the tracks are] meaty, beaty, big and bouncy. [No. 132, p.53]

It's fine that none of this is the least bit subtle. Memorable, or anything other than baseline catchy, is another thing entirely. [#81, p. 56]

On the whole, this is the fuzz-popping, party-starting, pan-galactic prescription you forgot to remember you were waiting for. [No. 94, p.58]

The songs on Sucker aren't the greatest tunes Brock has ever committed to tape... [#51, p.103]

[The album is] somewhere between his recent acid house work as Speed Dealer Moms and his dramatic collaborations with Omar Rodriguez-Lopez and Wu-Tang acolytes Black Knights--and pretty much everything he's done to date. [No. 110, p.55]

The guitar-free I Guess Sometimes offers evidence that some of the most compelling "rock" music today doesn't come from conventional rock musicians at all. [#48, p.100]

Unfortunately all this hi-watt talent [guest vocalists] can't cover up Iha's weak vocals, which pass from winsome to wan early on and never recover. [No.92 p.54]

None of the tracks approaches the frenetic monstrosity of the Public Enemy song they're named after. But "Strength In Numbers" and "Who Owns Who" are some of the most ripping music anyone involved had made in years, and they're not all repeating themselves. [No. 146, p.59]

The Dave Sitek-produced Planta keeps things light and easy. [No. 100, p.53]

He mostly sounds like a fish out of water. [No. 95, p.57]

Only a couple of tracks on Nightbird flicker with any sparks of life. [#67, p.96]

It's an LP full of computerized, Auto-Tuned dance-pop anthems, perfect to drive the kids at junior prom into a frenzy. [No.90 p.59]

As meticulously milquetoast as the entirety of this is, there are deadly sharp adult contemporary hooks on "Over & Over" and "The Pin," though the pervasive electronic beats, the obnoxious layer of acoustic strumming and raise-your-beer-and-hum choruses are symbols of a band lock-stepping in with whatever goes over best with casual listeners. [No. 132, p.55]

Seems shambled and unfinished. [No. 85, p.58]

The message may project the present-day feeling of hopelessness and conspiracy, but as the medium is soulless, effortless and tinkers along with less musical substance than when a bunch of 13-year-olds get together to form their first garage band, it's the listener who'll feel mocked, cheated and wanting to escape. [No. 149, p.55]

A poor pastiche of Aphex Twin, Spandau Ballet and Gary Numan. [No. 96, p.60]

My Bloody Underground is yet another experience of the stripe only Newcombe can sculpt. [Summer 2008, p.99]

The vocals are on point in Ashcroft's non-plussed yet quintessentially pop-edged delivery, but these arrangements lean more toward boredom and self-servitude. [No. 133, p.53]

The odd, sublime nod to the blues is a pleasant shock in what registers as a 45-track hour-long lark--the latest in a long, winding series of digressions from the auteur's core competency. [No. 93, p.55]