The album's most obvious failing is the way in which the vocals are presented and mixed. [No. 101, p.55]

It's bright and shiny and perky.... But it also risks being faceless--it's Tegan and Sara's least personable, most superficial record. [No. 95, p.60]

Sometimes the gambles pay off... and sometimes they don't. [#74, p.108]

Sharp and well-recorded, but although Rebennack's distinctive voice is featured front and center, there's a sacrifice of his artistry. [#86, p.53]

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 mostly drives down that most scenic of romantic-pop roads, honking and waving at fellow motorists Death Cab For Cutie. [#64, p.104]

Asleep and a Forgetting is [mellifluous], only crankier and somehow more personal than anything previous, soaked in the moody nuances of laughter and forgetting, memory and momentary lapses of such. [No. 85, p.55]

Their dizzy, easygoing drone-pop has been replaced with faceless consistency, a sonic chutzpah that cries out "modern rock." This in itself doesn't mean Take Back... is a flop -- far from it. [#49, p.71]

There's an easy likeability to Great Lake Swimmer's latest release. [Yet] many songs don't hold up on repeated listens. [#86, p.54]

I don't feel moved by Lee's progress toward enlightenment. [No. 121, p.56]

A better-than-average Sonic Youth album. [#64, p.106]

Twenty years later then, Glory remains, for better or worse, a totemic symbol of a n overinflated, overexcited era that now seems long, long gone and scarcely conceivable. [No. 114, p.51]

An enticing record emerges, boasting intricate instrumental latticework with the smoldering focus of slow jams. [No. 108, p.57]

It's frustrating, because behind the superficial surfaces, these songs can thrill. [No. 150, p.52]

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]

Their stinging, smart wordplay is dependably knotted and sneered, and even though it's difficult to separate their cadences, the collective passion present is undeniable. [No. 108, p.59]

Kindred is fun, but best in small, sugary doses. [No. 120, p.59]

[Dave Davies is] mostly restrained here, content to strum as he and Russ sing together. [No. 142, p.54]

Standout moments exist but the apparent slap across the face of preparedness results in meandering transitions, misplaced sax bleating that's part downtown jazz, part "Careless Whisper," and the feeling that there was a fair amount of sleepwalking through the process. [No. 119, p.55]

The album fares best when Evelyn lets his sampler do the talking. [#56, p.101]

Many of the songs meander, and the constant back-to-the-'60s vibe loses its charm. [#55, p.94]

There's some buzzing and belling on "Puzzle," some crimped cracking that doubles as new wave, but for the most part, it's California dreaming at its dumbest.

Unfortunately, on the rest of War Stories, Lavelle plays it safe by sticking close to poppy electro-dance tunes.

Fully realized tracks such as "Affection" and the peppy "I'm A Vampire" are so fetching that they eclipse the rest of Eternal Youth, which is padded with brief, blippy non-songs and is often top-heavy with (literal) bells and whistles. [#56, p.93]

Winds isn't without charm, but it feels like the work of a different group. [#64, p.84]

May piles up cresting false falsettos, disco pulses and Beach Boys wall-of-sound swells and, with the exceptionally sappy "Tell Her," offers a serviceable "So Happy Together" homage. [No.88 p.57]

Lightening returns to the tried-and-true formula that has worked so well for them. [No. 92, p.56]

If only [L'Altra] would wipe away the polish, stop being yet another tender pop band and let its melodies be springboards for exploration instead of straightjackets. [#54, p.94]

Their command of sonic mood is commendable, but without something more to grab hold of, Annabel Dream Reader is just a relentless gut-punch. [No. 112, p.61]

This is an honest and harmless record that isn't trying to be anything but the summer 2017 soundtrack for middle-aged males operating, patronizing or loitering within tattoo/piercing emporiums everywhere. [No. 144, p.59]

Listening to Coyne retreat behind the faux-Power Rangers horror-movie shtick he's created here is puzzling and ultimately disappointing. [#55, p.73]

Detrola, while still unpredictable, manages a certain unity. [#71, p.99]

It's an established formula: Regression to the mean is inevitable. That said, there are plenty of familiar pleasures for those who investigate. [No. 131, p.56]

Their new album A Thousand Thoughts, featuring mostly unreleased tracks of music from 14 countries, does suggest that in this expanded universe Kronos have come to resemble sentimental tourists rather then intrepid explorers. [May 2014, p.65]

By its very generic nature, Seadrum/House Of Sun sounds more like background music than anything the Boredoms have ever recorded. [#68, p.87]

Gangster Star features a much stronger single (the idyllic "Shine A Light"), while Jealous Machines waders a bit further into the narrative forest. [No. 144, p.59]

Pop uses the strengths and weaknesses of his many guests to differing--and sometimes distracting--effect. [#61, p.88]

While it is technically flawless and masterfully executed, it makes for awkward listening. [#74, p.102]

The misfires pale in comparison to the stomp and swagger of the record's best songs. [#58, p.91]

Lyrics ... come off as exceedingly everyday - as well as vital.

The effect is rather like Post-Super ae Boredoms, which is a great sound to achieve, but they only nail it sporadically. [No. 106, p.55]

Among the filler that drags down the LP's second half, fulfills contractual obligations and pushes the Gwar story forward. [No. 149, p.57]

The album kicks off with an accomplished, but by-the-numbers nod to T. Rex/'70s glam, then proceeds to genre-jump through the filter of neo-alt-country/Americana in a well-done, but regrettably innocuous fashion. [No. 128, p.53]

Ultimately, neither the album's ample, artful ambience nor its pasted-on continuous sequencing can help it transcend the ho-hum resignation of its title. [No. 149, p.59]

Dracula gurgles with slower, more experimental moments at times, but the brief drags are balanced out by funky hip-swingers and modern nuggets. [#82, p.59]

Gab's good-natured hustle is commendable. [#85, p.55]

Its performances over the past year have generated much anticipation for DIIV's debut full-length, but Oshin doesn't connect the same way. [No.89, p.53]

Their grandiose mini-operas and stadium-size choruses can thrill. But to hear the relentless string of outsized anthems in a row is exhausting. [No. 105, p.55]

The album's got its share of earnest torchers, but the upbeat "Salt Of The Earth" is the standout--spooky, yearning, bluesy, almost trip-hoppy and a little bit weird. [No. 106, p.54]

Music, while a pleasant listen, is nowhere near the heartfelt art Eitzel normally blesses us with. [#54, p.86]

Much of the material is mid-tempo and occasionally bland, but in its best moments... Kill Them With Kindness soars. [#60, p.105]

After a few tracks, you may find yourself seeking relief with your favorite method of self-obliteration. [No. 105, p.56]

[It sounds] little more than controlled and reserved stabs at Lower East Side new/no-wave of early talking Heads, Social Climbers and Blondie driven by some uppity Britpop rhythms. [#86, p.54]

The results are gorgeous, but frustratingly circumspect: twitchy, mournful, would-be futuristic dark pop that's almost comforting in its claustrophobia. [No.99, p.55]

The mixed results are troubling. [#55, p.86]

Friends lose themselves when they try too hard to sound like the Ting Tings, Cults or the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, which they do too often here. [No.89 p.54]

Lightning Bolt is only more competent than Foo Fighters, Vedder and Co.'s rival for the planet's straightest rock band. [No. 105, p.57]

The Private World Of Paradise does have a somewhat rustic, indie-rock feel, though augmented with a greater wealth of instrumentation. [No. 107, p.61]

There's still plenty to get excited about here.... But the stinkers here--like would-be Bowling For Soup b-side "Karaoke, TN" and "Coat Check Girl"--nearly soil the whole thing. [No. 118, p.57]

You have to admire the survivalist nature at hand here and the ability to craft an album that doesn't smack of inorganic hashtag laziness like those of many contemporaries. [No. 145, p.59]

Mostly, the remix collection works in this vein, mutating the originals by further accentuating the brooding atmosphere and driving the beat harder. [No. 94, p.61]

Decidedly pleasant. [No.87 p.60]

The multicultural mix and match works best on “Oh, Mojave.”... However, the Ruby Suns are less appealing when they land closer to home.

It's difficult to accept him as an angry rocker. He's so great as a lovelorn crooner - heard here on "Seek It," one of the album's few moments of tenderness - that it's hard not to be nostalgic for the old Hawley. [No.91, p.55]

The sum of these elements could achieve greatness if not for one simple-yet-major falw: Beach House manages a memorable sound but not memorable songs. [#74, p.91]

Every song on debut Alight Of Night seems to be falling apart, mostly because vocalist Brad Hargett’s melodies are off the map.

Much of Cistern feels deliberately nebulous, washed-out and distended. [No. 133, p.55]

You wonder if he's forgotten how to have, you know, fun. Approach with caution. [No.87 p.61]

The duo's intoxicating sense of endless sonic possibility remains, but the many lovely moments rarely amount to memorable songs, and several shout-outs to its still-enchanting debut fells like cruel teases. [No. 112, p.57]

Just when the Los Angeles-based trio's fourth album threatens to dissolve into another sleeping-beauty effort you might enjoy as a nightcap, something happens... [#48, p.74]

The Notwist’s last album, 2003’s "Neon Golden," was irresistibly catchy and irretrievably downbeat. Both of those qualities are muted on The Devil, You + Me, the German combo’s long-in-the-making follow-up.

As it's continued to grow, Ida has begun to sound almost ordinary. [#67, p.98]

The superficial snarl and by-the-numbers rawk in the middle on tracks like "Haste The Taste" and "Teenage Disease" never find equal footing with the album's inspired bookends. [No. 96, p.53]

The combination here of light electronic production, show-stopping African vocals, Mumford harmonies and heart-on-your-sleeve pop is hard not to love. [No. 133, p.59]

Pretty and pleasant without ever being especially compelling. [#67, p.100]

The instrumentals, which mix grainy field recordings with more forthright electronic melodies, assert a strong presence, but not enough to rescue Hymnal from a state of irresolute inbetween-ness. [No. 96, p.58]

When this band surprises... it provides moments indie rock could use more of. [#70, p.102]

Love From London could use more of those surprising or insightfully startling juxtapositions that define his best labors. [No. 96, p.58]

Williams pits his angst-y tendencies against grunge's proven, angst-coddling backdrop. [#82, p. 62]

Their fourth full-length has the band members grabbing snippets of musical influence from all over the Pitchfork-approved map. [No. 96, p.54]

For all its attempts at hipster currency, Evil Heat reveals the needle-shaped creative hole where the drugs used to be. [#57, p.102]

As tasteful as it all is, you still wonder what Vetiver is bringing to this material other than reverence. [Summer 2008, p.109]

He's perfectly adequate as a singer and melody writer, but he doesn't have the indelible personality of a Morrissey or Isaac Brock. [No. 96, p.56]

The synths are crisp and warm, and the beats are motivational in that '80's coming-of-age soundtrack way. [No. 85, p.57]

At points, Life Is Full Of Possibilities certainly sounds as if Tamborello realizes what distinguishes the good from the great. [#53, p.72]

The lyrics are overwrought, and the music is dark but lacking the edge that would make the songs compelling. ... Thankfully they bracket the album with "Love You To The Sky" and "Just A Little Love," up-tempo gems that prove they haven't lost their magic touch. [No. 142, p55]

While Femi's flame doesn't burn quite as strong as his dad's, the Kuti family still holds the belt as reigning champs of Afrobeat. [No. 100, p.55]

You can only imagine the verbal bonbons Gallagher has in store for Oxford’s Foals, whose bristling, high-energy dance shtick borrows heavily from better U.K. bands--and whose members were gracing magazine covers months before the release of this underwhelming debut.

The single-minded pursuit of a sound that was fresh about the time that Melkbelly's members started kindergarten makes for an album that's competently executed but easy to forget. [No. 147, p.55]

It's still, ultimately, a novelty rather than something that's likely to become part of your life. [No. 115, p.55]

The endless Anglophilia gets boring, especially when Pulp, Blur and the Auteurs have all done it better. [#61, p.86]

While all this sounds real pretty and is a pitch-perfect soundtrack for your hip cosmopolitan engagements, You Forgot doesn't have enough stick-to-your-gut songs to sustain a long-term, repeated-listening relationship. [#60, p.93]

Their second album only partially makes good on their promise, delivering a lovely package that lacks the emotional punch of last year's terrific self-titled debut. [#55, p.70]

The pop tunes are as good as any that Folds has written.... The "Concerto" tries too hard to be Gershwin or Richard Rogers, but lacks the flow of "Rhapsody In Blue" or the drama of "Slaughter On 10th Avenue." [No. 124, p.57]

Most of the songs deal with romance in its more dysfunctional guises, but Feist's comforting vocals keep things from getting too forlorn. [#81, p. 54]

There's enough here to keep diehard Coral heads satisfied, but a little more of the band's mercurial waywardness would've been welcome. [No. 130, p.55]

He slouches in with "Sisters" and begins his album-long teetering on the brink of affectation, sounding like a teenager with restratint. [#59, p.89]

Especially in today's digital context, the album feels torn between big-P pop a la La Roux or happy-mode Goldfrapp (or, at least, Annie circa 2004) and the darker, broodier likes of Ladytron.[#81, p. 55]