NOW Magazine's Scores

  • Music
For 2,812 reviews, this publication has graded:
  • 43% higher than the average critic
  • 2% same as the average critic
  • 55% lower than the average critic
On average, this publication grades 6.9 points lower than other critics. (0-100 point scale)
Average Music review score: 66
Highest review score: 100 The Life Of Pablo
Lowest review score: 20 Testify
Score distribution:
2812 music reviews
    • 51 Metascore
    • 20 Critic Score
    All 11 tracks feature painfully predictable song structures and lethargic chord progressions devoid of anything resembling a hook.
    • 49 Metascore
    • 20 Critic Score
    Kroeger’s voice sounds more like a wounded goat than ever before, and their blatantly recycled songs touch on familiar themes like strippers, sex, prostitutes, drugs, sex, drinking and sex.
    • 67 Metascore
    • 20 Critic Score
    They’ve set their laser harp on “snooze” and come up with a yawn-inspiring set of digital whoosh over which to chant some nonsense that at best resembles the Chemical Brothers at their worst.
    • 51 Metascore
    • 20 Critic Score
    As it turns out, Scherzinger’s not interesting enough on her own, so she’s padding out her shtick with four glorified backup singers in tow.
    • 71 Metascore
    • 20 Critic Score
    Instead of moving forward with a bold new sound, they seem lost and confused, eventually reverting to the sprawling space rock jams of their early years, which may be their comfort zone.
    • 54 Metascore
    • 20 Critic Score
    For Mötley Crüe, every new record is a Faustian deal: their former glory as 80s hair-metal badasses in exchange for sustained economic success in a diminished, lame-ified state.
    • 58 Metascore
    • 20 Critic Score
    Sitek attempts to do Johansson (and us) a favour by burying her monotonous voice deep in the mix, but unfortunately, the musical support isn’t interesting enough to carry the album. Skip it.
    • 51 Metascore
    • 20 Critic Score
    Everything on My Bloody Underground suffers from Newcombe’s chronic lack of focus, leaving the entire mess sounding like half-assed sonic sketches farted out in a friend’s basement over a woozy weekend.
    • 76 Metascore
    • 20 Critic Score
    Boring grooves that last a couple of minutes before ending abruptly just don’t cut it. What a letdown.
    • 60 Metascore
    • 20 Critic Score
    His bored delivery and ridiculous lyrics about peanut butter sandwiches and rich kids make his two-minute tunes on this 20-song binge stretch out painfully into what feels like forever.
    • 73 Metascore
    • 20 Critic Score
    The boring beats and throwback rhyme flow (circa 92)--which is weak even by Edmontonian standards--put Afterparty Babies somewhere beneath Don Cash’s home demos and the outtakes from Organized Rhyme’s Huh? Stiffenin’ Against The Wall.
    • 51 Metascore
    • 20 Critic Score
    This isn’t music so much as it is economic exploitation of a demographic.
    • 66 Metascore
    • 20 Critic Score
    Without any clever arrangements or production gimmicks to rely on, Keys tries to compensate for the obvious shortcomings by oversinging each syllable in a way that would make Patti LaBelle cringe.
    • 56 Metascore
    • 20 Critic Score
    A deadly dull set of cliché-packed piano ballads probably isn't the best way for aging harmony synchers to prove to their shrinking tween audience that the old Boys (sans Kevin Richardson) have still got it.
    • 53 Metascore
    • 20 Critic Score
    In real snap-music fashion, everything's repeated to death over tinny, cellphone-tailored little synthesizer riffs with snares.
    • 80 Metascore
    • 20 Critic Score
    The painful White Chalk is either a studio experiment gone horribly wrong or a crafty bit of career self-sabotage by a sensitive artist who'd rather make sculptures in the desert than play pop star.
    • 69 Metascore
    • 20 Critic Score
    Rather than the thoughtful songcraft and inspired peformances of Banhart's pre-Roberts Young God recordings, what you hear now is the zoned-out noodling of someone who foolishly believes his own genius hype.
    • 60 Metascore
    • 20 Critic Score
    Will.i.am has to be one of the worst rappers of all time, a fact his solo album doesn't just confirm, but stamps in red.
    • 65 Metascore
    • 20 Critic Score
    Sadly, this landfill isn't biodegradable.
    • 65 Metascore
    • 30 Critic Score
    Redundant, needlessly long, Those The Brokes rarely matches the 60s California-dreamin' good-vibes pop of its successful self-titled predecessor.
    • 68 Metascore
    • 20 Critic Score
    The novelty of it all has quickly worn thin.
    • 69 Metascore
    • 20 Critic Score
    A combination of insipid songs and uniformly soulless performances, it deserves high placement among the other legendary Macca misfires Pipes Of Peace, Press To Play, Off The Ground, Tug Of War and Red Rose Speedway.
    • 58 Metascore
    • 20 Critic Score
    It seems as if they've done everything possible to distance themselves from their original, much more interesting sound, opting instead for songs with barely enough hooks and coherent structures.
    • 56 Metascore
    • 20 Critic Score
    Try as they might to sound different, or even to touch on issues bigger than their own narcissistic garbage, LP still sound like they're stuck back in 00, which is where they should have stayed.
    • 76 Metascore
    • 20 Critic Score
    A dreary dump of sad sack pop blather that makes poor use of the substantial talent on hand.
    • 58 Metascore
    • 20 Critic Score
    Even Linda Perry, Swizz Beatz, Nellee Hooper and the Neptunes have their share of duff tracks, and it appears that's all they had to offer when Stefani came calling.
    • 67 Metascore
    • 20 Critic Score
    Jay proves that, yes, he really has nothing more to say except to state the fact that he's back.
    • 15 Metascore
    • 20 Critic Score
    His flow is generic and instantly forgettable and his lyrics are trite, inconsequential and full of self-importance.
    • 57 Metascore
    • 30 Critic Score
    Most of this over-egged sissy-boy schlock would make James Blunt wince.
    • 80 Metascore
    • 20 Critic Score
    Unfortunately, all the intricately picked little guitar figures don't make his raspy yelping sound any less like a wet cat stuck under a couch.