Paste Magazine's Scores

  • Music
For 2,214 reviews, this publication has graded:
  • 65% higher than the average critic
  • 3% same as the average critic
  • 32% lower than the average critic
On average, this publication grades 1.7 points higher than other critics. (0-100 point scale)
Average Music review score: 73
Highest review score: 100 Pacific Ocean Blue [Reissue]
Lowest review score: 10 Songs From Black Mountain
Score distribution:
2,214 music reviews
    • 59 Metascore
    • 40 Critic Score
    Costa’s jazz-tinged neo-folk songs are boyishly engaging for as long as they last, but they drift away without leaving a trace, as he too often settles for merely maintaining a feathery, bittersweet modality, so that the McCartney-esque tunefulness of the title track, the Mungo Jerry-like lilt of 'Miss Magnolia' and the ever-so-slight edginess of 'Cigarette Eyes' stand out by default.
    • 63 Metascore
    • 40 Critic Score
    It's only fair to consider Saturday Nights, Sunday Mornings in the context of the rest of the Crows’ catalog, and with that in mind--to borrow a phrase from Duritz--this one might fade into the grey.
    • 58 Metascore
    • 40 Critic Score
    These songs were already so impeccably performed that Johansson didn’t have very many new places to take them, and although her effort and nerve are commendable, “not as terrible as you thought it would be” just isn’t the same thing as good.
    • 64 Metascore
    • 40 Critic Score
    Now we get Cuomo name-dropping Eddie Rabbit, Joan Baez and "a Cat named Stevens," which makes Weezer sounds like a retread of "Built To Spill," who did the recycled-classic-rock-cliché thing back in 1999. Did it better, too.
    • 72 Metascore
    • 40 Critic Score
    Given Eno’s quarter-century of Bono-fides, this isn’t surprising. Martin’s interests are frequently vague--on 'Lovers in Japan/Reign of Love' he sings about soldiers who must soldier on and runners who must run until the race is won. Seriously?
    • 72 Metascore
    • 40 Critic Score
    The album has its moments but suffers from fussy production.
    • 63 Metascore
    • 40 Critic Score
    Mall-punk aesthetes might be convinced, but even before Cross of My Calling’s ponderous title-track closer comes around (with its near nine-minutes of lead-footed epilogue), most listeners owning a copy of Sandinista! will have put it on instead.
    • 64 Metascore
    • 40 Critic Score
    These are mediocre, and sometimes painfully inept, approximations of classic lovelorn folk tunes. At a short 38 minutes, the times aren’t changin’ fast enough.
    • 70 Metascore
    • 40 Critic Score
    Phosphene Dream's real achievement is that it takes the band's earlier murderous attitude and makes it impossibly bland.
    • 66 Metascore
    • 40 Critic Score
    With none of the tension or electricity of the music PiL is best-remembered for, This is PiL is a disappointing return.
    • 62 Metascore
    • 40 Critic Score
    MGMT chokes on its own forced sense of whimsy.
    • 73 Metascore
    • 40 Critic Score
    Essentially, the cruise control is running onward with disregard for all the maintenance and repairs that an engine needs, and the result is the worst album of their career.
    • 42 Metascore
    • 40 Critic Score
    The result is one of the more confidently presented, mostly inoffensive and ultimately inconsequential albums in recent memory.
    • 66 Metascore
    • 40 Critic Score
    For an album that focuses on the theme of love, it’s really hard to find anything to swoon over on I’m Not Bossy, I’m The Boss.
    • 57 Metascore
    • 39 Critic Score
    Raditude is an album of surface appeal--there’s no heart beating inside these plasticized tunes.
    • 67 Metascore
    • 39 Critic Score
    While Springsteen is notorious for painstakingly sequencing his albums, High Hopes was a losing battle--a puzzle with pieces that, more often than not, just don’t interlock.
    • 66 Metascore
    • 37 Critic Score
    An overall sound that’s been compressed and flatlined into one continuous buzz, this sounds like a tired band that had already gone through the motions before it even started.
    • 57 Metascore
    • 37 Critic Score
    It plays into all the worst assumptions of these artists without offering much reward for the endurance test.
    • 67 Metascore
    • 36 Critic Score
    The production is predictably overblown, the lone bright spot being the tender, acoustic 'I’m Trying.'
    • 63 Metascore
    • 36 Critic Score
    Carpenter’s weepy soul-searching makes The Age of Miracles feel like a cheap copy of the genuine introspection that made her previous records so intriguing.
    • 62 Metascore
    • 35 Critic Score
    On the first disc (I Am), Knowles comes off helpless and as emotionally closed as ever....The Sasha Fierce side is more like it. Here, Knowles works her confident, fun alter-ego. Still, she overdoes it on 'Diva.'
    • 92 Metascore
    • 35 Critic Score
    Billed as something of a multimedia breakthrough, the 10 discs here present good--and often great--music paired with sub-standard video content. Unreleased tracks? They’re here, although in disappointing quantity and quality.
    • 62 Metascore
    • 35 Critic Score
    What makes Indie Cindy so egregious, so much worse than a simply bad album, is how much better it could have been.
    • 65 Metascore
    • 34 Critic Score
    Depeche Mode has been an easy target for complaints of stagnancy, and, indeed, the band seemed to stop progressing in the mid-’90s like a child with a pot-a-day habit. And, Delta Machine is another example of this.
    • 49 Metascore
    • 33 Critic Score
    It quickly becomes evident that Forget the World is less an album than a haphazard collection of B-sides and leftovers that were for whatever reason deemed unmarketable as singles.
    • 75 Metascore
    • 31 Critic Score
    This new one is both harder to love and harder to fathom.
    • 68 Metascore
    • 30 Critic Score
    Its walls of distorted, alt-rock power chords reek of the 1990s. [Apr/May 2006, p.102]
    • Paste Magazine
    • 52 Metascore
    • 30 Critic Score
    Back Home embodies the featureless, sickeningly pleasant sounds piped unmercifully into department-store elevators. [Oct/Nov 2005, p.121]
    • Paste Magazine
    • 52 Metascore
    • 30 Critic Score
    It's better to be the imitation Ray Charles than the poor man's R. Kelly. [Feb/Mar 2006, p.94]
    • Paste Magazine
    • 78 Metascore
    • 30 Critic Score
    Everything moves in slow motion, as if that lent profundity to the proceedings, and even then the vocals rarely keep time. Perhaps Holland believes that singing off the beat creates tension, but it merely diffuses what little energy these songs possess.