Mercury Rev has talked about reinvention and veering away from its comfort zone, which is only to be commended, but the band has really fallen flat on its face here.

There are seeds of talent in Phox, but this album doesn't let the band flourish. [No. 111, p.59]

What Is This Heart? certainly isn't done any favors by Krell's stock, dejection-by-the-numbers lyricism and the baring of his overextended falsetto against the array of muted synths, strings and drum machines that crop up from song to song, as the album cycles through every tired adult-contemporary R&B trope in the book. [No. 111, p.55]

Rod and Gab's fifth album is bereft of personality. [No. 110, p.59]

In spite of its shortcomings, there's something fascinating about this saccharine new Butthole brew.... Like driving by a head-on collision late at night, it's almost impossible to avert your eyes. [#51, p.88]

This batch of 11 half-baked songs is whiny, lifeless and not even close to stimulating. [#60, p.106]

The unintentionally hilarious Mount Eerie misfires so dramatically, it makes you want to reconsider not the Second Amendment but the First. [#57, p.98]

What had been a fascinating display of aural minimalism has morphed into a haphazard, ill-advised mess. [#75, p.96]

[A] joyless, meticulously crafted trudge. [No. 106, p.52]

On Rehearsing My Choir, the Furnaces are just defiant because they can be, indulging every impulse but neglecting to make any of them even remotely compelling. [#70, p.96]

Tortoise makes like Herbie Hancock wandering through the '80s, all lost at the jazz-fusion supermarket. [#49, p.95]

Seems shambled and unfinished. [No. 85, p.58]

A poor pastiche of Aphex Twin, Spandau Ballet and Gary Numan. [No. 96, p.60]

There are but three words to describe the sixth album from [Nightmares On Wax]... "repetition"... "derivative"... "listless."[#71, p.108]

Halfway applies Cook's fading trademark of playful repetition to similarly crackly sampling and comes up almost wholly unlikable. [#48, p.89]

It's fine that none of this is the least bit subtle. Memorable, or anything other than baseline catchy, is another thing entirely. [#81, p. 56]

Doesn't offer much in the way of anything appealing. [#67, p.90]

How in god's name did Damon Gough fall so far? [#74, p.90]

Musically, the quartet is borderline worthless. [#48, p.84]

Feels like a product of the past. Not the distant past, either, where at least its retrofits could be forgiven as homage. Lemon Jelly captures electronica circa 1993. [#67, p.102]

It's the sort of record today's 15-year-olds are going to feel embarrassed about owning five or six years from now. [No. 108, p.56]

Unfortunately all this hi-watt talent [guest vocalists] can't cover up Iha's weak vocals, which pass from winsome to wan early on and never recover. [No.92 p.54]

A dull collection of dreary drone-rock songs. [#69, p.111]

Unfortunately, [Markus] Popp has recently become more fascinated with theory than result.... This is what causes the downfall of Ovalprocess as a work of pure music.... a disappointing misstep. [#47, p.112]

I don't know which Stereolab album is more nauseating: Sound-Dust or the last one. [#51, p.118]

The message may project the present-day feeling of hopelessness and conspiracy, but as the medium is soulless, effortless and tinkers along with less musical substance than when a bunch of 13-year-olds get together to form their first garage band, it's the listener who'll feel mocked, cheated and wanting to escape. [No. 149, p.55]

Stale, vapid and generally awful. [No. 105, p.55]

The whole record is all skittering drums never finding their place, and shivering synths that drift in search of a landing pad. [No. 94, p.58]