The shift in sound is subtle at best, and only the most astute listener will sense any real progression. At times it’s lovely to listen to, but all in all it best serves as somnolent sounds for insomniacs.

They are trying too hard for precocious-ness, not enough for worn-in beauty.

Even stripping off the gloss doesn’t help, because there’s not much under it.

The second half of the album finds the foursome relenting and mostly mellowing out.

The production has gotten bigger, slicker and more surgically clean, but the tunes haven’t.

This is no disaster on the level of, say, a Leonard Nimoy or Don Johnson album, but given Laurie's outspoken love for New Orleans and the involvement of Henry and his crew, Let Them Talk still falls well short of expectations.

This may be as good as it gets for Dreamers of the Ghetto, and it's really just fair.

More Than Just a Dream is a perfectly ok record that can even boast one or two above-average songs, but ultimately the result is pretty underwhelming.

To be sure, Blitzen Trapper can be commended for breaking down the boundaries between roots and rhythm, even though they may alienate those more accustomed to the tried and true.

Individ challenges its listeners to discover the elusive melodies that reside below the surface, even though the clattering arrangements and oddly oblique atmospherics might prove to be a distraction.

If energy and enthusiasm count for anything, then The Pack A.D. comes out a step ahead. The problem is, they don’t seem to know when to pull back.

These songs work well in small doses, but start to grate after repeat listens.

Those that deem this effort too weird or erratic are best advised to consider the deluxe edition with its live bonus disc recorded with the Metropole Orchestra at the Paradiso in Amsterdam.

It’s tranquil, amiable and very familiar.

As long as those instrumental additives remain intact, Poco will always excel in more than name alone, but with fewer voices in the mix, it also remains a challenge to reach that high bar established so early on.

Good Mood Fool takes several listens before it’s possible to fully appreciate its full potential.

Shakedown is less about method and more about attitude.

It’s a little regrettable then that his last officially studio album, coming out less than a year after he died, is so overproduced and kitschy.

It’s hard to imagine the circumstance that led Low Anthem to assemble this effort. Was it psychedelic substances or a fascination for Faust? Whatever the case, Eyeland marks a trippy transformation.

This debut from Dangerkids is ambitious only in the fact that there is so much wrong with this record.

No, that's why God made the CD player's "skip" and "program" buttons.

“Harmonic Hall” is a pseudo serious semi-Arabic sounding pointless exercise in sequencing and doesn’t aid the soporific nature of the record one iota. The rest of the record is nothing more than pieced together bits of overwrought musicality that were always present since the 90’s but never given center stage until now.

It turns out that "Brandenburg Gate" is one of the only songs with an actual melody. The rest of Lulu is full of recycled, repetitive riffs; endless drones; more sex and violence than a slasher movie.

The LP’s few highlights--the thrumming “Cremated (Blown Away)” and “Bridge By A Tunnel,” the only track with a memorable chorus--can’t rescue Proper Ornaments from the ugly truth: there’s a bomb already in this Foxhole.

There is little if anything redeeming about this CD.