Refreshing, breezy rhythms propel densely intermeshed guitars and Jeremy Bolen's incantatory vocals. [Dec 2006, p.96]

Thing of the Past contains no original songs (although it's unlikely that anyone without a nasty crate-digging habit will recognize most of these tracks), but Vetiver are awfully well suited to the material, and Cabic's vocals--sweet, smooth, and golden--shine.

The album frequently slips back into forgettable genericism, and its back half is mediocre--but it’s also a strength. At its high points, Revival is marked by this lush, sphinx-like readinessss: as if, after a decade and a half of being nonstop front and center, Gomez has finally figured out what it means to center herself.

Equal parts bang and whimper. [Jun 2006, p.81]

Things go slightly south with wedged-in jokes, but if you overlook those interruptions there's enough fuzzed-out fun and tender, Shins-like classicism to transcend any retro trappings. [July 2008, p.100]

Lacking a balance between pretty and ugly, their experimental alchemy is scabrously tiring, with cacophonous fragments that never connect. [Apr 2008, p.100]

Some songs function well as singularities, particularly “New Level” and “Grandma,” which showcase a few of Ferg’s best qualities in spurts, but as a complete work, Always Strive and Prosper is a misfire that presses to be greater than the sum of its parts.

Though the title hints at darker turns, the album never steps out of the glare.

McKeown's Marc Bolan-influenced rhymes and party-time shouts are always wryly slapdash, but the weaving bass line and expansive structure of 'Situation' indicate that 1990s still retain some of the members' arty ambitions.

Four albums in, this nourish duo are still unwavering in their approach: Chilly, disturbing lyrics emerge from a dense fog of blissful Spector harmonies and squalling Jesus and Mary Chain surf and strings. Only now, those lyrics are more bizarre.

When they stay focused and sweet (as on the sparingly orchestral 'Berlin Heart'), they soar. But when Lightburn adds spoken-word bits and überwanky guitar solos ('Lights Off'), ending with an 11-minute, church-inspired requiem ('Saviour'), you may be ready to follow his former band members out the door.

Never transcends the level of a cheeky bumper sticker. [Aug 2006, p.82]

The production is muddy, the sentiments vague. [June 2003, p.105]

Carter Tanton -- of the now-defunct Tulsa and still-thriving Lower Dens -- style-jumps so restlessly that his second solo disc sometimes feels like a multi-artist playlist rather than a one-man show.

They burden their appealing, childlike take on Brechtian cabaret's cold raunch with so much lush production... that it's as though Palmer is being drowned by a gallon jug of overpriced perfume. [Jun 2006, p.79]

It won't satisfy hook-hungry Jewel fans, but Learn to Sing wears Hersh's experience like a custom-tailored hair shirt. [Feb 2007, p.84]

The results don’t resemble the King’s hits nearly as much as Prince’s demos.

With Jonathan Meiburg's luxuriant, lachrymose croon topping the slow-cresting violins of this tasteful rock ensemble, The Golden Archipelago will surely satisfy listeners in need of a melodramatic nap.

Slime Flu has its charms, acting as an energetic reminder of insider-y, turn-of-the-century New York hip-hop long gone: sample-laden, ignorant, and wealth-obsessed.

Working in Tennessee glides along on its Bakersfield groove with the greatest of ease, despite the album's title.

Harper sounds most engaged on the disc's loudest, least melodic cuts: "Clearly Severely" is a furious, TV on the Radio–style soul-punk blast.

Flavorless chamber pop. [Jan 2006, p.91]

Warning of nightmarish rural invaders in 'The Rifle' and vowing to keep her eyes open on the showstopping sea chantey title track, Diane seems destined for grander endeavors.

They vacillate between flotational devices and skull-crushers. [Apr 2006, p.91]

Pierce's flimsy voice and material buckle under the weight of the Technicolor bombast on Let It Come Down. [Oct 2001, p.127]

Leave Me Alone is a friendly, enthusiastic album of coppery six-strings glinting in the sunlight with the more-than-occasional flat note, scuffing up the album’s already sand-blasted texture with an endearing scrappy quality.

Refining Gutter Tactics' murky metal rap with subwoofer bass frequencies and fierce drum programming, MC Dälek and producer the Oktopus still find inspiration amid the noise.

The pseudonym and title (a wink to Yo La's mostly-covers Fakebook) indicate how this lark, with oft-inaudible vocals, is meant to be held up against the band's canon.