With Animals does successfully create a cohesive mood, but it is not one of great substance. [Aug - Oct 2018, p.78]

Oak Island certainly feels more homogenized in comparison [to his debut]. [Jan-Feb 2013, p.88]

It's doubtful Marauder will win Interpol any new fans and may even leave existing fans somewhat disappointed, but if you work at it, you can find some redeeming qualities since a sub-par Interpol is still better than most.

This is their darkest record yet, but it's saved from drudgery by a heavier sound delivered with furious energy.

Its pulse never rises above soporific levels.

Too much of Strange Little Birds is filler.

Ultimately, More Fast Songs About the Apocalypse is a decent and fiery auditory excursion.

Musically there's little to get excited about, and little to draw complaint either.

This is a flowery psych-folk album that musters little more than consistent pleasantness.

If the rest of the album were as strong as those three songs ["A Good Sadness," "Astro-Mancy," and "I Love You Too, Death], this would be a masterpiece and a powerful growth for the band. As it stands, they can at best serve as a taste of what's to come.

The album begins very much where The Big Roar left off, thundering its way through five noisy screeds without much variety in pace or power, However, halfway through Wolf's Law, The Joy Formidable veer off its beaten path. [Jan-Feb 2013, p.87]

The Man Upstairs is nearly dominated by unremarkable covers, often of songs dating from Hitchcock's own heyday and formative years.

There is plenty here to suggest that West's magic has not entirely left him, but as a statement of art or true intent, this is a significant misstep from an artist with so much to praise.

With Bitter Rivals, Sleigh Bells haven't quite hit all the targets they're aiming for.

There are a few genuine gems on the record, but you have to dig around for them amongst a lot of tracks that meander about, exulting in their own nostalgia without really going anywhere. [Aug-Sep 2013, p.88]

3 sadly feels flat, a shadow of so many stalkers from the past.

As with Born Ruffians' previous albums, there is nothing especially bad or even enjoyable about Birthmarks. [Mar-Apr 2013, p.91]

While inoffensive, Barfod's work here ultimately fails to really engage.

While the music itself is less than immersive, it does make a compelling footnote to the formative years of a classic label.

Sounding like a cross between the synthesizer pop of Erasure and the stadium anthems of U2, Big Music could have been released in the late '80s and stayed at the top of the international charts.

Yes, It's True has interesting moments, but ultimately makes for an insubstantial and at times deeply vapid experience.

There's no escaping a diminishing ability to knock listeners to the floor.

A collection of leaden dance-rock, ponderous show-boating, and thankfully, brief flashes of inventiveness. ... This record's promise is blunted by its workmanlike enthusiasm. [Feb-Apr 2019, p.108]

A return to the garage rock that has propelled most of his musical endeavors, the primary thrust of Let It Reign is guttural. There are, however, tempo and minor style changes along the way that stop the album from being one long string of yells.

Some tracks come across like impromptu recording sessions where ANOHNI worked through recently-penned material over production pieces messed around with just before she'd arrived at the studio. Still, there is enough in this unexpected assimilation of talents to hold intrigue.

If he can lay off the muffled sound for his upcoming album of new material, Car Seat Headrest will really be able to take off as an excellent rock project. Until then, put on Teens of Style and yearn for the door to open and to hear these catchy, fuzzy tunes properly.

Babes Never Die is by every means a solid, boisterous rock record, but their first one was all that and something more. Babes has fewer hooks, and less of the glimmering reverb we grew to love the last time around.

The Monkeys have pulled off their most technically adroit and controlled recording of their career. Whether that's a good thing for longstanding fans is another matter. [Aug-Sep 2013, p.87]

For the Yeasayer fans who enjoy their stranger stylings, this will fall out of rotation quicker than others; that doesn't make it bad, just not a favorite.

Her off-kilter stance on traditional soul-pop helped her stand out from the crowd. Now, it's hard not to think she's content playing the part of another pretty, predictable voice.

I Don't Run isn't a bad record, or a regression, nor is it the continued ascent the band had hinted at. Instead, it's a meandering detour through chill, lo-fi, and sometimes flat songs.

Departure gets by on diverting--not mesmerizing--drone. [Sep/Oct 2014, p.106]

It's listenable and pleasant, and has promising snatches of creativity, but mostly it's unremarkable.

Unfortunately, their grown-up aversion to trouble can topple into polite, forgettable niceness, with the strongest feeling inn offer being a gentle brand of contented melancholy. [Nov-Dec 2013, p.91]

Adrian Younge's film score-like production on this latest team-up doesn't feel as atmospheric or inspired as their first go-round.

The album's humor is similar to Heidecker's TV work, sharing much of its strange not-sure-if-this-is-supposed-to-be-funny moments; if it hasn't resonated with you before, it won't here. Tim & Eric fans should enjoy it, though; dumb joke lyrics aside, it's surprisingly catchy.

This is the album Hungtai needed to record, but not necessarily the record his burgeoning audience wanted to experience.

The overdone synth pop and uninspiring songwriting becomes a bit tiring, so Lost Girls as a whole is a disappointment for a band with so much talent and past successes. [Sep-Nov 2019, p.82]

For all of their obvious quality and intricate attention to detail, there is no escaping the fact that this album feels clumsy and disjointed. It isn’t an abject failure but flirts with this possibility on too many occasions for it to be even mentioned in the same breath as slowthai’s previous studio effort.

Think the poppier side of The Velvet Underground with Television's Tom Verlaine on Vocals--but not quite as good as that would actually be. [Nov-Dec 2013, p.99]

Purple is an enjoyable ride that's unlikely to disappoint avowed fans of the band. But playing it safe and not advancing their thesis substantially invites comparisons to earlier artifacts of their sonic template, artifacts that shine brighter than the present one.

The experiments don't come off, while the pop style disappears under endless repetition. That isn't to say it's not lovely and engaging for while-it is-but too much of a good thing is still too much.

Reflecting entirely on a misplaced relationship, The Cautionary Tales of... is a personal record that lacks few comforting cushions.

As If is just another glimmer of something that may never be.

Ultimately, it's unfair and even glib to say this album doesn't hold water because it has no "Home" or "40 Day Dream," but all the same, one laments the loss of the magical, poppy Midas touch Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros once wielded with such ease.

A couple tracks break from the tired formula and show Methyl Ethel can actually create something unique and entertaining.

While sometimes the lyrics seems questionable when considered in the context of that art form, overall Americana is an enjoyable listen with a couple highlights any fan wouldn't want to miss. [Apr-Jun 2017, p.79]

Depeche Mode click here slightly more often than not. [Mar-Apr 2013, p.91]

While these breezy charms are easy to embrace, the cutesy retrograde of tracks such as "Negative Space" and the ineffective "Johnny" come off as a weary step backward. [Jun-Jul 2013, p.90]

Everything feels uncertain, as though the band is looking to move forward onto something a bit more shoegaze but unwilling to part from the influence of Fairport Convention, and as such is a little confused.

The songs are consistently solid, but few truly shine. [Apr - May 2015, p.89]

The group sets into a jazzy groove that succeeds half of the time. [Oct/Nov 2012, p.127]

All in all, it makes for a record whose potential to be exceptional is all-too frustrating.

Ultimately, it plays like background music forever striving for a place in the foreground. [Apr - May 2015, p.85]

Overall, your enjoyment of this album will depend on your patience and appreciation for Kozelek's idiosyncrasies. Sometimes he pulls it off wonderfully, and other times listeners might wish he'd left a little more to the imagination.

Payola could have been a richer experience compressed into an EP, a subversive power pop that could incandesce the psyches of America's mall-going teens. But even at 44 minutes, it feels overlong, its energy too diffuse for the intended impact.

A full slate of 14 tracks will please some fans, but it's easy to see how an editorial ear would remove or reorder several songs for greater overall impact. [Apr-May 2015, p.85]

Essentially, Palma Violets are revealed as a bit of a one-trick pony on Danger In the Club, with the novelty of their jangly pub-rock fading as quickly as the taste of the violet-flavored candy that they're named after.

The majority sounds like demos for a fuller, richer album that Welsh undoubtedly has the skills to write.

Baio's debut relies on genre differences to stand out instead of solid songwriting itself, unfortunately letting his solo time predominantly go to waste. [Aug-Sep 2015, p.60]

An album of full-on jam band pastiche. [Nov-Dec 2015, p.77]

Desperate Ground feels more like an unrelenting march than an odyssey.

It's lovely, it's almost moving until you remember what you're listening to, but it's hugely inessential.

The beat structures on the likes of "Reverse Faults." "Under," and "Incomplete Kisses" fail to match their vocal counterpart in aesthetic or sentiment. [Jan - Mar 2017, p.67]

As is stands, High Life has the sound of a half-finished addendum to a half-finished idea.

Their overly straightforward rock tends to be a little more Jefferson Starship than Airplane. [Mar-Apr 2013, p.103]

Heidecker's voice isn't the greatest thing you've ever heard, but it is passable and radio-friendly. It is too bad most of this album is just skippable.

Despite its strengths, Kintsugi fails to leave the same lasting impression as so much of the band's prior discography.

Sylvan Esso’s third was left with hard acts to follow. For a duo that to this point seemed in full command of their mission, trying out some well-worn paths only leaves them flat footed in the wrong places.

Despite the minimal aura throughout, luminous field recordings of Ritter's current girlfriend and concrete scene setting keep this LP from devolving into a series of narrow-minded, scribbled diary entries. [Mar-Apr 2013, p.106]

While FOREVERANDEVERNOMORE sounds more like spa music, which, after three or four tracks, makes the listener want to get horizontal, it is a welcome break from the structure and form of contemporary music. Eno is attempting to make you pause, and think, and feel.

Mental Illness remains more of the same, never quite hitting any peaks, and never missing a step either.

The group can't sustain their earlier EP's magic over the course of a full LP. [May 2011, p.88]

This is an album in short supply of great songs. [#11, p.110]

While the album has great moments, it sounds like a band unable to recreate past glory. [Fall 2009, p.65]

While it would've been nearly impossible to live up to the expectations [of Writer's Block], it's hard to believe they so thoroughly confounded them with such a middling release. [Spring 2009, p.73]

The musicianship is outstanding, as one would expect, and Mike Mogis' production is, as usual, flawless, but the songs and direction simply aren't there.

The live shows were deafeningly loud and visceral and the atmosphere is impossible to translate to a record, gamely as they might try. The quality of the recording is very disappointing; varying volume and muffled production suggest it was dashed off in too great haste.

CYR is a record that so obviously chasing mainstream appeal yet sabotages itself by being too long a self-indulgence.

The problem with Love Travels At Illegal Speeds is its lack of variation and the dominant subject matter. [#15]

Boucher is still making warped, sparsely-populated electro-pop, and the potential still outweighs the content.

L7 always need to be given credit and respect but Scatter the Rats is not them at their best. They are a raucous, subversive, and vital voice in rock, but this album doesn't show that. It should be a footnote on a career that is more important than this.

As always, his found sounds and tense beats combine to form intricate patterns and anxiety-laced music, but nothing on Weareallgoingtoburninhellmegamixxx3 reaches out and grabs you. [Summer 2010, p.89]

It is for those who look to music not as a way to diversify their cultural conquests, but rather those who need to hear the validation of their basic humanity from a voice who understands their pains. For those individuals, this album might just be the refreshing break from the privileging of the aesthetic over the material that is desperately needed today. Otherwise, the album traffics too heavily in platitudes and generic alt-rock formulas.

Their quest for a catchy chorus is often derailed by a love of hazy atmospherics, creating a soundtrack suited for little more than late-night navelgazing. [Fall 2009, p.72]

You can do a whole lot worse than Unlimited Love, its main sin homogeneity rather than insufferableness.

With so much space for the instrumentation to maneuver in, Broken Social Scene actually sounds more withdrawn and lackluster. At their best, they are so incredible at creating that illusion of a spaced-out record by actually shrinking the space, contrasting big orchestral sounds with fuzzy lo-fi recordings.

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.

Shine has a nasty penchant for treading water instead of making any real artistic statement. [#5, p.100]

It's intelligent, tasteful, and well-executed music. But it ain't rock 'n' roll, not even a little and damn Jones for trying to pretend that it is. [Holiday 2009, p.78]

In the end it's a "must buy" only as far as you care about the bonus materials. For everybody else, don't throw out your old copy. [Spring 2010, p.73]

This lack of immediacy is representative of Sunlit Youth as a whole; it feels overproduced, like some of the essence of what has defined this band for two albums has been polished away. In its place is a more palatable but distinctly less exciting listen.

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

Overall, Two Sunsets' twee pop aesthetics lattice into a misty, pastoral inertness.

VOIDS is largely composed of lightly angsty guitar rock anthems and pseudo-emo ballads, with little instrumental sophistication to satisfy long-term fans.

At least Pixies didn't try to fake their way into recreating every aspect of their former glory. But the music here is so unfortunately forgettable.

The listless downbeat trend of recent solo efforts unfortunately continues. [Fall 2008, p.88]

Like the much-maligned puppy, Forever Today is as cute as can be--but alas, hardly the pick of the indie pop litter. [May 2011, p.85]