The album feels half baked, as though Morrison isn't quite sure which direction to take his nascent solo career.

A puzzling release.

They are a lot more inspired-sounding than many of their more contemporary-sounding colleagues.

On first listen [it's] profoundly unimpressive.... What each successive listen reveals, however, is a deftly understated and maturing pop craftsmanship.

What worries me about the obviously talented Junior Boys is their tendency to round their corners. The music is so safe, so pleasant; it's not hard to imagine it in the Starbucks CD rotation without raising an eyebrow.

The '80s idolatry is far too forced and distracting, and VHS or Beta comes off as trying too hard to imitate admittedly great, but definitely dated, pop music.

Occasionally, Memphis' songs coast on an attractive soundscape rather than going for a compositional or lyrical knockout punch. Nevertheless, I Dreamed we Fell Apart is often quite beguiling.

Zedek somehow twists her troubled characters and haunting tunes into things of beauty.

Gelb creates masterful songs for the ages.

The songs are likable, but lack a core.

Highlights the band at its most exploratory.

An unpleasant record to listen to.

So Jealous has a broad appeal, nicely connecting the dots between Avril Lavigne and Joan Jett, but shouldn't be slighted by the latter's fans for it's immediacy.

Like The Fiery Furnaces' Gallowsbird Park, or Interpol's Turn On The Bright Lights, Funeral is a debut record that simply refuses to be ignored.

A near perfect record that will have The Rapture,!!!, and every other dance punk band looking over their collective shoulders.

Shiny, soulless dance tracks that would have been mediocre even as Rick Astley backing tracks.

Some songs are sloppily stretched out and others simply half-finished, but the ample charms of Doherty and Barat are just enough to rescue any of these lows.

The album, impressive in its scope and sense of adventure, is a further reinvention in Björk's already massive discography.

A luminously lovely solo album.

The compositions on Connector are firmer, more contained than they've been since 1997's Audoditacker.

A more savage, flawless and impressive sound could not have emanated from these Austrian-born, Chicago-fed composers of laptop jazz.

Like the band's first two albums, Winchester Cathedral is solid. But also like its predecessors, the album suffers from the "Hey, didn't I already hear this song?" syndrome.

Despite the wailing vocals and insipid lyrics, the rhythm section nearly saves this album with its tensely coiled, ready-to-explode grooves.

It's still very plainly the Dulli Show, placing his cigarette-stained voice and oversized heartache front-and-center.

Kinsella carefully enunciates his lyrics to make sure we hear all the clever references he's making, forcing SAT words into musical phrases that stagger under the weight of their pretense.

The harmonies aren't as blissful and the songs more conventional than those of previous releases.

Within this realism is an incredible sense of serenity, which flows throughout the album and creates an incredibly fascinating work showcasing an immense sense of maturity for this young group.

[Kasher's] ability to toss off seemingly effortless melodic hooks makes one wonder just what kind of water is in Saddle Creek.