The Guardian's Scores

  • Music
For 3,071 reviews, this publication has graded:
  • 48% higher than the average critic
  • 3% same as the average critic
  • 49% lower than the average critic
On average, this publication grades 4.1 points lower than other critics. (0-100 point scale)
Average Music review score: 67
Highest review score: 100 Album
Lowest review score: 10 Unpredictable
Score distribution:
3,071 music reviews
    • 52 Metascore
    • 30 Critic Score
    Before long, though, Duran Duran are adrift in an unforgiving sea of disco-dad dance-pop, anaemic vocals and lyrics too distressingly awful to repeat in a family newspaper.
    • 70 Metascore
    • 30 Critic Score
    A crashing disappointment.
    • 56 Metascore
    • 30 Critic Score
    Lifeless, as if the air had been sucked from the band's lungs.
    • 66 Metascore
    • 30 Critic Score
    Throughout Rock N Roll, Adams is too busy winking, smirking and showing off to convey anything approaching an emotion.
    • 67 Metascore
    • 30 Critic Score
    The beats are intricate but ineffectual, the songwriting is thin and every song is enveloped in a suffocating orchestral shroud.
    • 68 Metascore
    • 30 Critic Score
    Perhaps spurred by the ease with which the Boring Solo has been grafted on to their chosen template, When It Falls finds Zero 7 expanding their horizons and going on to be boring in other areas.
    • 48 Metascore
    • 30 Critic Score
    However tiresome the slogans, worse is the fact that the beats are lazy.
    • 55 Metascore
    • 30 Critic Score
    Everyone wants Brian Wilson's story to have a happy ending. The worst thing about Gettin' In Over My Head - far worse than the mediocre songs and the MOR guest appearances - is that it doesn't sound terribly happy.
    • 65 Metascore
    • 30 Critic Score
    The music is so anodyne that you don't pay much attention to Lavigne's lyrics. This proves to be a small mercy: examination of the CD booklet reveals that prolonged exposure to her words could leave a previously healthy adult rocking backwards and forwards in a foetal ball.
    • 62 Metascore
    • 30 Critic Score
    Hackneyed songs grind drearily.
    • 52 Metascore
    • 30 Critic Score
    The album's drawback lies not with the producers or the material, but with Lopez herself.
    • 57 Metascore
    • 30 Critic Score
    Apparently knocked off in just six weeks, Daft Punk's third album sounds like it took six days. Six short days. With long lunches.
    • 50 Metascore
    • 30 Critic Score
    The trouble is, they've... stopped writing songs. Instead, there are collages of sound devoid of subtlety; colliding rhythms that make noise rather than sense.
    • 40 Metascore
    • 30 Critic Score
    Like Mike Oldfield's Tubular Bells II and Meat Loaf's Back Into Hell, it doesn't so much play as fall out of the speakers with a flump: the sound of a towel being thrown in.
    • 61 Metascore
    • 30 Critic Score
    While their first album had a stirring anthem or two, their songwriting here is both flimsy and overblown, like an empty carrier bag temporarily inflated by a gust of wind.
    • 48 Metascore
    • 30 Critic Score
    How can this dork-metal silliness still be going on in 2005?
    • 51 Metascore
    • 30 Critic Score
    An hour of boredom.
    • 61 Metascore
    • 30 Critic Score
    Half the 12 tracks are risible throwaway genre and covers. The other half are, at best, extremely mellifluous Big Star tribute band songs.
    • 63 Metascore
    • 30 Critic Score
    It's all too dull to make anyone care but Crow.
    • 43 Metascore
    • 30 Critic Score
    Her sense of self-importance [is] so prevalent on her second album that it negates the mild pleasure you might otherwise get from it.
    • 45 Metascore
    • 30 Critic Score
    Santana proves that even endless high-sustain soloing cannot heal the generically lame.
    • 55 Metascore
    • 30 Critic Score
    As he points out in the sleeve notes, these were "works in progress", but that doesn't excuse using stagnant rock riffs to obscure his lack of inspiration.
    • 63 Metascore
    • 30 Critic Score
    What 20/20 does best is portentousness and the empty brag - essentially male traits that make listening rather like being hectored by the pub bore.
    • 57 Metascore
    • 30 Critic Score
    She sings like a woman who has heard of something called singing, can't be sure of exactly what it might entail, but is fairly certain you do something a bit like this. She sounds both distracted and bored stiff, as if making an album is keeping her from the more serious business of standing around a nightclub in a pair of really enormous sunglasses.
    • 53 Metascore
    • 30 Critic Score
    A scant handful of highlights aside, it is packed with half-baked ideas, bad jokes, music that any other star of Williams' stature would be terrified of the general public hearing.
    • 83 Metascore
    • 20 Critic Score
    Secret Wars is a sobering demonstration of what repetition can do in the wrong hands, as the Brooklyn trio funnel the most endurance-testing excesses of Suicide, Can, Sonic Youth and stoner rock into a joyless, oppressive piece of work.
    • 74 Metascore
    • 20 Critic Score
    Feels Like Home is so inoffensive you have trouble remembering whether you put it on.
    • 40 Metascore
    • 20 Critic Score
    Where she used to be smart and provocative, Phair has become crass and bloated, her lyrics crude and her image apparently a grotesque exercise in self-parody.
    • 59 Metascore
    • 20 Critic Score
    Every now and again they hit on a promising musical idea, then ruin it.
    • 63 Metascore
    • 20 Critic Score
    Disembodied bleeps and European synth drifts opt for bleak, alien magnetism but just end up sounding utterly depressing.
    • 80 Metascore
    • 20 Critic Score
    It never sounds like much more than a bar band playing songs for friends.
    • 46 Metascore
    • 20 Critic Score
    If it's possible to imagine a gutted Coldplay or an even more comatose Snow Patrol, Athlete is it.
    • 66 Metascore
    • 20 Critic Score
    With nothing musically fresh, attention is focused on [50] himself. Bad idea.
    • 44 Metascore
    • 20 Critic Score
    Generation betrays Audio Bullys' aspirations to say Something Important, undeterred by the absence of either insight or eloquence.
    • 82 Metascore
    • 20 Critic Score
    Syrupy, multi-tracked vocals akin to Supertramp in a particularly foul mood have replaced the primal roar of old, while their tectonic hugeness has been supplanted by the wearisome over-indulgence of musos at play.
    • 71 Metascore
    • 20 Critic Score
    The songs descend the same chords repeatedly and ponderously, as if the band were falling down the same flight of stairs over and over again.
    • 44 Metascore
    • 20 Critic Score
    Pop's lyrics about his penis and ATMs are beyond self-parody.
    • 45 Metascore
    • 20 Critic Score
    A fourth album of stunning fatuousness.
    • 57 Metascore
    • 20 Critic Score
    There are plenty more wishy-washy guitar tunes present like the drippy, tambourine laced Battleships, the wheezing Out in Space and the sub-danger of Eyes Wide Open; all riddled with Fran Healy's girlish croon. Spare us.
    • 50 Metascore
    • 20 Critic Score
    Sentiments are rendered as blandly as lazy graffiti tags, with the music accompanying them as bold and portentous as a light shower.
    • 59 Metascore
    • 20 Critic Score
    I Created Disco is witless and forever tripping over its own feet.
    • 60 Metascore
    • 20 Critic Score
    Disc one sounds like the band's Desperado years left out in the rain--damp, shrunken and fetid, with songs such as Guilty of the Crime and Fast Company giving out as much spark as a dying novelty lighter.
    • 66 Metascore
    • 20 Critic Score
    The "songs" (a relative concept on planet Mars Volta) sound as though they are competing to unleash as many prog-rock cliches as possible: portentous guitar riffs and twiddly bits are interspersed with all manner of atonal wind instruments and sonic pomposities.
    • 60 Metascore
    • 20 Critic Score
    The Courteeners sound like troglodytes on the rampage.
    • 56 Metascore
    • 20 Critic Score
    As Emergency proves, what they do is entirely generic, but it's hard to argue with its melodic efficacy.
    • 70 Metascore
    • 20 Critic Score
    Every single note feels forced, in hock to a sound and a set of attitudes that date from a time before many of us were born.
    • 46 Metascore
    • 20 Critic Score
    To the rest of the western world, they are the arrogant stars of rock documentaries and Vodafone adverts, and their achingly dull eighth album does little to alter that assessment.
    • 47 Metascore
    • 20 Critic Score
    Elsewhere, the Welsh four-piece are merely witless. Utterly awful.
    • 49 Metascore
    • 20 Critic Score
    The hilarious, parodic single 'Rockstar' excepted, Nickelback's music reaffirms every sex-and-stupidity cliche hard rock can offer.
    • 74 Metascore
    • 20 Critic Score
    Their website trumpets the "pure musical possibilities" of Electric Arguments, but this is heavily laboured hackwork.
    • 69 Metascore
    • 20 Critic Score
    Some half-decent anthems and a sweet little love song are shifted further towards the bin by Kyle Falconer's singing, which sounds as though he has forgotten to put his teeth in. By the end of it, you may need a long bath.
    • 44 Metascore
    • 20 Critic Score
    Lazy attempts at grime and rapcore are consigned to the doghouse courtesy of some well-meant but terrible political raps.
    • 58 Metascore
    • 20 Critic Score
    The Marilyn Manson blueprint holds fast, and all the familiar elements are here. The difference is that even Manson sounds unconvinced by his "antichrist superstar" persona; maybe because his target demographic have grown up and moved on.
    • 43 Metascore
    • 20 Critic Score
    Using top folk musicians means everything is expertly crafted, but Sting's Christmas pudding is over-egged.
    • 39 Metascore
    • 20 Critic Score
    Too much of United Nations of Sound feels like a vanity project gone horribly awry.
    • 66 Metascore
    • 20 Critic Score
    Gershwin and Wilson are among the 20th century's greatest writers of popular music; no one wishing to learn more about either should start here.
    • 45 Metascore
    • 20 Critic Score
    Shallow, soulless and strangely cynical, Some Kind of Trouble is a thoroughly depressing listen.
    • 47 Metascore
    • 20 Critic Score
    Stretched out over an hour, their solitary idea wears unbearably thin: pretty quickly, your reaction is less LMFAO than WTF? and, ultimately, FFS.
    • 78 Metascore
    • 20 Critic Score
    Former child actor Aubrey Graham's much-vaunted sensitivity and introspection is more hollow than ever on his second album.
    • 51 Metascore
    • 20 Critic Score
    It's not so much that the songs lack shape, it's that this suggests Reptar lack conviction – every song borrows from something else, something vaguely similar but different enough to make this an incoherent mess, albeit one with oddball pretensions.
    • 63 Metascore
    • 20 Critic Score
    The only risk Marley takes is on You're My Yoko, where he attempts to woo a lucky lady by likening her to the avant-garde artist, while casting himself as John Lennon. Julian Lennon would have been nearer the mark.
    • 49 Metascore
    • 20 Critic Score
    The best efforts are Dynamite, featuring Snoop Dogg, with its low-slung Cali feel, and Three Strikes, which bangs--and features the vocals of Martine McCutcheon's husband, Jack McManus ("one, two, three, get the fuck up"). The worst is everything else.
    • 52 Metascore
    • 10 Critic Score
    Unpredictable resembles another legendary thespian's venture into pop, William Shatner's 1968 opus The Transformed Man, in that you start to wonder whether Foxx is actually serious or not.
    • 55 Metascore
    • 10 Critic Score
    At their most laudable, Queen eschewed good taste in order to make unique records: Bohemian Rhapsody or the baffling Bicycle Race. Here, you get all the kitsch and none of the ambition.... With little behind it except a desire to be loved, the showboating becomes wearyingly relentless.