The overall effect is a sturdy, if familiar-sounding, debut from a couple of no-nonsense pop culture junkies who sound far more interested in writing to-the-point pop songs instead of getting totally drunk on '80s and '90s nostalgia. [Jun-Jul 2013, p.94]

The music’s so great that Eska’s vocals are often intrusive and sometimes embarrassing. [Year End 2008]

It doesn't quite get there, though when much of the noise drops away, leaving only a couple of pure notes, "Best of Times (Worst of All)" comes awfully close.

These four hanging out and jamming is to be celebrated, no question, but a slightly less ad-hoc endeavor might elicit more spins. [May 2011, p.75]

There’s still plenty to stir your senses, even if it more often than not has a generic hip-hop beat running beneath it. [#17, p.83]

Up All Night is far from terrible and often a pleasant listen, but there’s nothing particularly enchanting about singer Johnny Borrell’s “vox,” and if anything seems to be lacking here, it’s perhaps a sense of musical identity. [#15]

This feels like a record that should move the listener, yet its complete lack of conviction makes this almost impossible. [#11, p.115]

The biggest problem with Key is that Knapp is just not an interesting songwriter. [#8, p.112]

Where every track on The Flower Lane felt essential to the whole product, most of the material here feels like warmed-up leftovers.

For fans, You Gotta Go... is just different enough from what came before to keep ears interested. For everyone else, this will seem like more of the same. [#5, p.103]

While definitely an acquired taste, ultimately it's an auditory adventure worth taking that neither wow the listener nor will it disappoint. [Apr - Jun 2017, p.84]

It's catchy sometimes, but the fuzzy punk-pop stretches itself pretty thin over a full-length. [Mar 2012, p.87]

Wilson sounds overly smooth and croon-y on "We Stay Together," while on "Hole In My Soul" the group's cartoonish attempt at modern sounds is strung together with a sickly thread of saccharine.

Kaiser Chiefs keep making the same record, but most of the energy ran out in the first tow. [Feb-Mar 2014, p.72]

It fails by dressing up its prettier moments in unnecessary clatter, whereas the noisier bits are already unnecessary. [Summer 2007, p.86]

As for the album as a whole, Sweet and Hoffs are consummate professionals and they dutifully bring their best; however, they have yet to answer the question of why one should listen to their versions instead of the originals.

The charmingly-titled "Skim Milf" and unwittingly apt "Riff DAD" epitomize the band's predilection for chopping out any of the exploratory sounds of their earlier work in lieu of mercifully short, chugging dad rock riffs.

The Worm's Heart is a curiously pointless release and coming so soon after the first version does it no favors at all.

Lightning occasionally dips into the annoyingly upbeat. [Oct/Nov 2012, p.129]

The trio's ambitious, albeit generic arena rock sound proves more appropriate for frat boys than campus indie rockers. [Spring 2010, p.72]

Another solid addition to the Giants' catalogue, but as with their last few records, it doesn't seem likey they put their back into it. [#7]

Simple, meditative stuff that's probably quite personal. [May 2011, p.87]

Arctic Monkeys' Alex Turner can pull off this kind of mopey swagger while still tapping toes, but for all of their infectious dance-floor grooves, The Wombats could stand to lighten up a bit.

Animal is a study in patience and makes one pine for the visceral indulgence of the past. [Fall 2009, p.60]

Only on the more solid "rock" tracks does he get it right. [#10, p.109]

Disappointingly, the second half of the album loses some of the sting. [Jul 2011, p.79]

In their attempts to procure an oppressively dark ambience, they have bypassed heroes Depeche Mode and New Order, landing straight in standard-issue mail-Goth territory--a place with little thematic variation. [Holiday 2009, p.76]

There's no other unifying theme at work here; no great banner to be found overhead. A Fine Mess is just that--scattered outtakes from producer Dave Fridmann's (The Flaming Lips) stellar work with the band from the previous year.