Overall, this still feels very much on the level Placebo was at with 1999 single "Every You Every Me," minus more artfully constructed, impressive instrumental compositions and lyricism. [No. 102, p.59]

Too frequently, though, the new material doesn't have the constitution to withstand the heavy hand of producer and former Dawes guitarist Blake Mills. [No. 137, p.55]

A concept where every title is a different animal should've wielded funnier, more songful results. [No.98, p.55]

Sadly, Beams doesn't show Dear changing up his game in any meaningful way. [No.90 p.55]

Not Stars’ best, and far from their worst, but an album’s worth of the usual string-laden drama-pop seems a thin substitute for what today’s kids are seeking.

Overall, though, Mr. Love & Justice is a collection of broken promises and lyrics that don’t live up to their potential.

After a promising start, the album charts a steep and steady decline into ersatz Bowie and slapdash psychedelia. [#58, p.96]

Only the last song, Wild Sun's straightforward, vulnerable take on "Easy Way Out," finally hits the mark. [No. 137, p.61]

The Whole Love works best as aural comfort food.[#81, p. 60]

Vacancy has a more organic, "big indie rock" real feel to it as opposed to something automatically designed to blast from convertibles and iPods in high-school lockers. [No. 134, p.53]

There's melody and rhythm, but mostly the overtones float through the ether, seldom resolving into anything approaching a song, although the overall effect is soothing and dreamy. [No. 135, p.54]

The nine songs blur together over the 36 minutes, and they offer few surprises once you enter their heavy-handed world. [No. 138, p.58]

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

A mixed bag. [#71, p.102]

Gradually succumbs to torpor, with track after track given over to midtempos and pretty-yet-languid riffing. [#64, p.104]

We still find this trio a little yawn-worthy. [No. 93, p.55]

As meticulously milquetoast as the entirety of this is, there are deadly sharp adult contemporary hooks on "Over & Over" and "The Pin," though the pervasive electronic beats, the obnoxious layer of acoustic strumming and raise-your-beer-and-hum choruses are symbols of a band lock-stepping in with whatever goes over best with casual listeners. [No. 132, p.55]

The odd, sublime nod to the blues is a pleasant shock in what registers as a 45-track hour-long lark--the latest in a long, winding series of digressions from the auteur's core competency. [No. 93, p.55]

The emotional mood of At Best Cuckold never breaks away from the spell of his comfortable lethargy. [No. 114, p.53]

The melancholia lacks distinguishing marks. [#64, p.80]

Atomic offers rare glimpses into the band's writing process and exists as an anomaly in Mogwai's catalog that's sure to intrigue diehard fans, but offers little more to anyone else. [No. 132, p.57]

Good-natured, utterly accessible dance pop with meta-awareness of its own shallowness and disposability. [No.92 p.58]

More often the singing is submerged in the mix, making it impossible to understand the dreamy wordplay that makes Oelsner's lyrics so memorable. [No. 145, p.59]

Interesting sounds? To be sure. Impenetrable songs? That, too. [#73, p.94]

Luciferian Towers is a muddled mess of underworked ideas strung together. [No. 148, 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 lyrics are often buried in the mix. [No. 128, p.61]

Even though bombast spawned the band's biggest hit, it sinks a lot of this record's second half. [No. 85, p.53]