The album feels underwhelming.

Does it replace the originals as the definitive Gang of Four collection? No way.

The punk dominates more than it ever did on its electro-tilted predecessors.

An album of both phenomenal concentrated bits, as well as some disappointing gaps.

Much of the record lands solidly in novelty territory.

The whole affair is polished to such mirror-like perfection that I have to dim all the lights and cover my eyes when I listen to it.

The tunes hop as often as they whimper, with stand-up bass, slap-happy drums and wordless vocals fleshing out the reverb-rich arrangements.

The production is crisp and idiosyncratic as usual, but many of the songs fade into the background.

On songs like "In the Afternoon" and "Time is Running out," Maclean fails to add even a shred of feeling to his chilly IDM clones.

Lead bat Eric Johnson is a talented songwriter but his '60s lite-psych melodies and scruffy acoustic backdrop are not just tired, they're nearly dead.

With his merely efficient playing, Mould never reaches the highs of electric ecstasy he perfected in his heyday.

Resilience is laid-back Kid 606.

To be sure, there is nothing on Often Lie that is revolutionary - for the most part Dalley delivers straight ahead power pop.

The fusion of The Books' folk stylings and traditional instrumentation (cellos, banjos, clavinets) with Prefuse's hip-hop stutter-funk produces fresh moments, just not as many as desired.

Plays mostly as a digest of fairly enjoyable if not particularly memorable shaggy-haired rockers in the Kinks or Small Faces mold with little material to rival Sunshine's radiant highs.

What strikes most is a sense of uncomfortable suspension, and what keeps the album afloat remains a true mystery listen after listen.

The album as a whole isn't interesting enough lyrically or musically to hold itself together.

The record's glossy sheen and sharp nostalgia give it a calculated, lab-constructed feel.

Starting with track six, Laughter's Fifth verges on unstoppable.

The results are not for the faint of heart – beats stutter uncomfortably, disappear without warning, and practically scratch out the walls of your speakers from the inside.

Otto Spooky is designed not so much to be enjoyed as to be a spectacle.

Impressive despite its occasional lack of maturity.

A set that flat out refuses to be ignored.

As grounds for our own wandering imaginations and protesting voices, Horses' six songs are not as fertile as what's come before them.

It all recalls a traveling Klezmer troupe, unsure of its audience, warming up with tributes to "Schindler's List", "For Whom the Bell Tolls", and "The Godfather", while waiting to find out if they're playing a festival or a funeral.

It's endearingly all over the place, but depressingly self-referential.

Second disc Chirpin' Hard is the crowd-pleasing Speakerboxxx to Hill's less-accessible Church Gone Wild.

Unfortunately, the band is not able to match their vitriol with memorable tunes.