[They] continue to play it sweet and low: hot-cocoa keyboards, heart-monitor beats, glossy high-end string arrangements--and actual songs, as it happens. [Apr 2004, p.94]

A sweetly embittered geopolitical epic. [Dec 2004, p.124]

John Agnello's knob-twiddling is spot-on. [Mar 2007, p.98]

Living Thing won't double as anyone's dance-party playlist. But it's an uneasy, bracingly honest soundtrack to life after fame.

A mature but still totally floor-ready return.

Elson leans toward both bluegrass and chamber pop--the fiddle-laced "Cruel Summer" is worlds away from the twee, jewelry-box twinkle of "100 Years From Now." Her twangy, echoing soprano recalls Jenny Lewis and Loretta Lynn, aided craftily by husband/producer Jack White.

Even Klaxons' most ominously rambunctious tracks grind out plenty of bug-eyed dream-pop chants.

Unbound by a verse-chorus-verse format, the songs meander unpredictably, like a milder Of Montreal, with polymorphous sex replaced by God and health problems.

This is Jonas’ complication: talking his way into, and then through, sexual minefields. The theme suits his peculiar pipes--the jutted-jaw pout, the texture he scratches into his more insistent notes--which, in turn, take the burden from the compositions.

A tastefully matured Bauhaus produce enough fractured guitar and howling melodrama to wake the undead.

Dark, electroshocked eighth album from Brit rock's premier party people. [Jan 2003, p.99]

The record's nuances are divulged in layers and folds, through a latticework of instrumentation and, shockingly, some uncommonly good songwriting by band members other than Stuart Murdoch.

On this debut, Lerner's gorgeous vocals, sunny melodies, and ultra-catchy choruses sound like a Fab Four fantasy trip as he logs extensive mileage in a rush of crisscrossing travelogue songs.

After the proggy overindulgence of their previous two albums, these Texans gracefully balance the dynamic alt rock of 2002's Source Tags & Codes with their more recent multimovement epics.

The band's aims are more modest now: have fun, get people to sing along, share a common feeling or two. Hurley achieves those goals with something approaching dignity.

The Fragile Army trades the cluttered arrangements... of their first two albums for tightly focused orchestral pop with big Technicolor hooks. [Jul 2007, p.102]

Ravishing yet famished for attention, this overachiever would be bloody irritating if she didn't demonstrate a savvy command of pop hooks.

EVOL, along with the Purple Reign mixtape, doesn’t provide that instant hit that Future’s world-class 2015 was so full of. Instead it crawls into your brain and makes itself at home; you’ll find yourself going back to it over and over without even realizing.

Stuff this simple can turn into art that's fantastic or a fantastic disaster. Coachwhips walk the line masterfully. [Feb 2005, p.91]

The best bits are when the band’s own drummer Dale Crover picks up the bass for a third of the album’s 12 tracks.

10,000 Hz Legend offers heavier arrangements, starker contrasts between soft folky orchestrations and hard prog-rock noise, more guest stars, fewer pretty tunes, and several gigabytes of robo-speak. [Jul 2001, p.126]

A snappier comeback than 1998's Foundation. [Sep 2004, p.120]

Whiteman recombines mambo, Americana, and mesmerizing BSS-style rock with infectiously rambling results. [Mar 2007, p.88]

While the similarly mystical/mewling Joanna Newsom seems adrift in fantasy, Tiny Vipers finds wonder in being rooted firmly to the terra.

Showcases vocals more boldly than Melody A.M. [Aug 2005, p.98]

The self-deprecation still rings hollow, but the hooks never do. [Jul 2003, p.110]

Featuring 10 tracks of gooey, dislocated goodness, its gravity-free atmospherics are just right for soundtracking summer moon treks, intergalactic windsurfing, and asteroid volleyball. Down to earth it is not: These deep but compact space jams can't get much higher.

The efficiency of his drollness has grown uncanny, in fact, and the creepiness of its perfection is part of the fun.