Yet another Maritime record full of amiable, breezy numbers, every note and octave in place. The soul and panache of yore, however, are sadly MIA. [No. 125, p.59]

There is a surprising amount of vitriol pent up--ever so politely--in these songs, and when that vitriol squeaks out into the universe, it is very genteel, very well-mannered vitriol. [No. 125, p.53]

Cliched lyrics and predictable musicality make every song here sound the same. [No. 125, p.53]

The Dear Hunter might be better served by working in rein in its vast pretensions. [No. 124, p.53]

The pop tunes are as good as any that Folds has written.... The "Concerto" tries too hard to be Gershwin or Richard Rogers, but lacks the flow of "Rhapsody In Blue" or the drama of "Slaughter On 10th Avenue." [No. 124, p.57]

Too much of Everybody's Coming Down limps along on wounded extremities, with quirky cleverness displaced in favor of sloppy indie-rock tropes that answer the eternal question about what Ween would sound like minus a sense of adventure. [No. 123, p.59]

The Monsanto Years is another head-scratcher of an album. [No. 122, p.61]

The relationship songs are distressingly generic; she backpedals on her "edgy" (for country) envelope-pushing; and she sings about what's she's not. [No. 122, p.57]

Even as it completely eschews Mohawke's maximalist, hyperkinetic style of old for a newfound soft side, Lantern registers as a limp, populist gesture for how ham-fistedly it attempts to reconcile the two. [No. 122, p.57]

This laudable open-mindedness [to try anything] may have finally backfired. [No. 122, p.55]

The album's back half tones it down a bit, though the overarching tropical themes get a bit extreme. [No. 122, p.55]

I don't feel moved by Lee's progress toward enlightenment. [No. 121, p.56]

Last Of Our Kind has heavy and abrasive moments that are heavier and more abrasive than anything in The darkness discography. [No. 121, p.53]

This is about as '80s nostalgic as you can get without voting for Margaret Thatcher and hoovering up a pile of Peruvian flake. [No. 121, p.61]

Kindred is fun, but best in small, sugary doses. [No. 120, p.59]

Standout moments exist but the apparent slap across the face of preparedness results in meandering transitions, misplaced sax bleating that's part downtown jazz, part "Careless Whisper," and the feeling that there was a fair amount of sleepwalking through the process. [No. 119, p.55]

It's hard to imagine reaching for No Pier Pressure when you could choose from all those great(and even not-so-great) Beach Boys albums from 40 or 50 years ago. [No. 119, p.60]

The back half gets slower, darker and weirder--integral ingredients all. But there isn't one track here that stands out from the rest. [No. 118, p.59]

The arrangements here never add anything to the songs that you haven't heard a thousand other bands do just as well, if not better. [No. 118, p.55]

There's still plenty to get excited about here.... But the stinkers here--like would-be Bowling For Soup b-side "Karaoke, TN" and "Coat Check Girl"--nearly soil the whole thing. [No. 118, p.57]

Mansion Songs isn't a great LP, but there's a damn good EP buried in here. [No. 117, p.55]

These tunes would work better if the influences weren't so obvious. [No. 117, p.55]

It undermines its poppy ideas with unorthodox chord changes, meandering melodies and a jarring minor/major push-pull. [No. 117, p.61]

Much of this album comes surprisingly close to the woozy heights scaled by Barat's old gang--but not quite close enough because, if there are criticisms here, it's that there's too little light and shade. [No. 117, p.52]

Hexadic too often misses the point by honing in on formlessness and esoteric explanations instead of solid consistency. [No. 117, p.61]

Essentially, this is one for obsessive completists only. [No. 116, p.55]

If you're not already a fan, this won't convert you. But if its obtuse kraut-rockabilly's your particular addiction, this will be pure manna, pilgrim-uh. [No. 116, p.57]

Flesh is musical, but also minimal, a soothing pink noise that won't put you to sleep or interfere with your daydreams. [No. 116, p.59]