While all this sounds real pretty and is a pitch-perfect soundtrack for your hip cosmopolitan engagements, You Forgot doesn't have enough stick-to-your-gut songs to sustain a long-term, repeated-listening relationship. [#60, p.93]

Sharp and well-recorded, but although Rebennack's distinctive voice is featured front and center, there's a sacrifice of his artistry. [#86, p.53]

While it is technically flawless and masterfully executed, it makes for awkward listening. [#74, p.102]

The mixed results are troubling. [#55, p.86]

A quartet of droney sameness [in the second half] essentially grinds Moonlight's funkiest ingredients into a sluggish, repetitive pulp. [#68, p.111]

Listening to Coyne retreat behind the faux-Power Rangers horror-movie shtick he's created here is puzzling and ultimately disappointing. [#55, p.73]

Mozart's Mini-Mart is full of short, witty synth-pop songs such as "When You're Depressed." Think Magnetic Fields at their most ephemeral. [No. 150, p.53]

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

A set of wistful, stirring anthems. [No. 141, p.61]

The Facts of Life is a more polished affair, casting vocalist Sarah Nixey's wispy hush into a pool of plucked strings and orchestral flourish -- duly poisoned by some blippy Air trippiness. [#49, p.68]

GRRR! is a total cash grab. [No. 94, p.59]

Sounds like classic overcompensation, a racket on wheels trying to live up to its hype by merely playing over it. [#59, p.98]

AM's wheel-spinning is a bit of a letdown, but a handful of tracks keep it from being a total throwaway. [No. 102, p.52]

Most of the songs deal with romance in its more dysfunctional guises, but Feist's comforting vocals keep things from getting too forlorn. [#81, p. 54]

Twenty years later then, Glory remains, for better or worse, a totemic symbol of a n overinflated, overexcited era that now seems long, long gone and scarcely conceivable. [No. 114, p.51]

There's enough here to keep diehard Coral heads satisfied, but a little more of the band's mercurial waywardness would've been welcome. [No. 130, p.55]

There's no shortage of pretty sounds, but it's too easy to drift into the reliable ebb and flow of this album's amniotic dynamic. [No. 98, p.54]

As 1991 albums go, Out Of time in its own way is an era-defining as Nevermind, Loveless or Spiderland. [No. 137, p.58]

Its performances over the past year have generated much anticipation for DIIV's debut full-length, but Oshin doesn't connect the same way. [No.89, p.53]

Evokes an industrial Enya soundtrack that would play on Frodo's laptop. [#67, p.112]

Just start at track six, where the getting gets good. [#58, p.97]

After making three great albums in a row, for Marshall to turn in a merely decent one seems like a letdown. [#71, p.88]

The Take Off is not all that remarkable the first few times around, but it nonetheless hints at rewarding repeat visits. [No. 108, p.55]

"The Lost You" is a breathless, if unfortunate, peak. What follows are four miserable, mostly tuneless dirges that bring a slow death to [the] album. [#67, p.97]

The problem is that the half-hour Squares is as unfocused and repetitive as a double album. [#59, p.108]

Finds the group farther afield than ever from the playful, energetic randomness that made its first records so utterly fantastic. [#52, p.88]

These guys do so many things well--now if they could only find their weird again. [No. 95, p.52]

It's a set of slow, deliberate vamps that oh-so-gradually gather tension; they smolder, but ... rarely burst into flame. [No. 85, p.59]

While Grizzy Bear often comes off as some backwoods cousin of the Elephant 6 collective, the band sports as much texture as Boards Of Canada. [#73, p.93]

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

After a few tracks, you may find yourself seeking relief with your favorite method of self-obliteration. [No. 105, p.56]

Predictable. [#57, p.105]

Overall, Electric is another consistent yet unsurprising recent Thompson album. [No. 95, p.59]

His [James Alex's] lyrics aren't particularly strong. [No. 126, p.53]

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

Their stinging, smart wordplay is dependably knotted and sneered, and even though it's difficult to separate their cadences, the collective passion present is undeniable. [No. 108, p.59]

Its successes just about match its failures. [#70, p.100]

Uneven. [#73, p.112]

Okkervil River can deliver terrific songs when ambitions are kept in balance, but this uneven record is in dire need of an editor.

Lyrics ... come off as exceedingly everyday - as well as vital.

There's a strange, practiced quality to the pop numbers that robs them of their buoyancy. [#71, p.87]

On "Kingfisher," the album's centerpiece, they prove when it's perfectly balanced with a subtle instrumental approach. [No. 138, p.61]

It's an overstuffed, uneven album, one that's not disappointing as much as it is disorienting. [#67, p.111]

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]

The single-minded pursuit of a sound that was fresh about the time that Melkbelly's members started kindergarten makes for an album that's competently executed but easy to forget. [No. 147, p.55]

At its best, Bewilderbeast promises pastoral beauty.... At its worst, the album's faux-jazz workouts, painful disco homage, sappy ballads and pointless instrumentals stretch a decent EP into a bloated, hour-plus opus. [#47, p.84]

Loads of echo and reverb rescue the album from this potentially fatal flaw, but overall, You & Me is a mixed bag.

Gangster Star features a much stronger single (the idyllic "Shine A Light"), while Jealous Machines waders a bit further into the narrative forest. [No. 144, p.59]

Love From London could use more of those surprising or insightfully startling juxtapositions that define his best labors. [No. 96, p.58]

The Private World Of Paradise does have a somewhat rustic, indie-rock feel, though augmented with a greater wealth of instrumentation. [No. 107, p.61]

Much of the material is mid-tempo and occasionally bland, but in its best moments... Kill Them With Kindness soars. [#60, p.105]

At points, Life Is Full Of Possibilities certainly sounds as if Tamborello realizes what distinguishes the good from the great. [#53, p.72]

On first listen, For The Season is pleasantly trippy. Listen closely, however, and it seems rather patchy. [#70, p.100]

A better-than-average Sonic Youth album. [#64, p.106]

There's something undeniably mechanical about Room On Fire. [#61, p.107]

Love This Giant fitfully achieves its aim of unlikely, unearthly pop. [No.91 p.56]

[Neko] Case misses Carrier, and it her. [No. 102, p.55]

It boasts riveting tempos, gripping atmospheres, imaginative chopped 'n' screwed vocal tracks and a vague sense of currency via a bass drop or two. But it also feels incredibly rote and through-the-motions. [No. 103, p.58]

Cryptograms is a pleasant enough record, but it remains to be seen if Deerhunter can add up to more than the sum of its gear and influences. [#75, p.96]

Some songs here make more sense than others, and the musicianship, while spirited, isn't quite accomplished. [#61, p.92]

With guitar ace Marc Ribot and pedal-steel master Eric Heywood along for the ride, she continues exploring the intersection of hope and heartache. [No. 139, p.57]

Unwilling or unable to ascend the vertiginous heights of 2009 debut Gorilla Manor, Hummingbird instead buries its beak in the sand. [No. 95, p.58]

It's difficult to accept him as an angry rocker. He's so great as a lovelorn crooner - heard here on "Seek It," one of the album's few moments of tenderness - that it's hard not to be nostalgic for the old Hawley. [No.91, p.55]

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]

The Gradual Progression manages to keep a curious balance between high-concept art and Fox's own fiercely independent spirit and virtuosic talent. [No. 146, p.55]

His penchant for quirky arrangements remains in place, as does his gift for shrewd lyrics and dark, ironic humor. [No. 130, p.55]

Eno brings interesting and complex rhythmic counterpoints to his 3-a.m. atmospherics.... It all sounds so very sleepy in the end, and quite numbing, in a most uncomfortable way. [#51, p.92]

Sadly, "Everything Is Wrong" announces another second-half fade, the back side congealing into the same zombie histrionics that sank Interpol. [No. 113, p.57]

It's not an overall disaster, it's certainly never dull, and there's plenty to keep the loyalists happy. [No. 100, p.58]

Fatigue ensues from the relentless stream of common-man clichés, delivered in the most vocally bombastic way possible. Which makes the carefree 'Casanova, Baby!' such a pleasure; the Gaslight Anthem finally stops playing to the stadium, resulting in a positively joyous, catchy rock ’n’ roll song.

Trouble In Paradise proves her more than capable of putting together a solid pop album on her own. [No. 112, p.57]

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

Krug's non-stop croaking yells get old quickly, and the few highlights are hardly worth sitiing through an hour of Renaissance Faire-y meandering. [Fall 2007, p.108]

Cosmopolitan, but often dull, easy listening.... Basically, Thievery Corporation skims the surfaces of more substantial styles and reconfigures them to create pleasant dinner-and-drinks music. [#47, p.124]

An enticing record emerges, boasting intricate instrumental latticework with the smoldering focus of slow jams. [No. 108, p.57]

Too much of A River, though, doesn't give you enough music to love it. [#68, p.110]

There's precious little invention at work on Attack And Release, and the stench of authenticity hangs heavy. [Summer 2008, p.98]

Luciferian Towers is a muddled mess of underworked ideas strung together. [No. 148, p.57]

Magik Markers' simulations are dutiful, but they lack even a hint of the revolutionary spirit, menacing explosiveness, creativity, musicianship, savvy, wit, humor, heart or charm oif their heroes [Sonic Youth]. [Fall 2007, p.101]

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

Every song on debut Alight Of Night seems to be falling apart, mostly because vocalist Brad Hargett’s melodies are off the map.

Four becomes truly trying during its tangent-prone second half. [#70, p.93]

The obtuse nature of the song structures, content and riffing are exactly what one expects ... just dressed up as a "surprise." [No. 145, p.55]

For those inclined toward the indie end of things, there's plenty to like here, but there's also plenty that will inspire head-scratching or, worse yet, yawns. [#71, p.89]

Algiers appears designed not to define, defy, offend and - most heinously- explore. [No.91, p.53]

Albarn aficionados will, of course, lap it up, but for the rest of us, think of it more along the lines of a faintly beguiling curio in an otherwise fascinating career. [No. 109, p.52]

Sadie Dupuis' sweet voice offers very little respite from her defiantly uncatchy band. [No. 107, p.59]

Winds isn't without charm, but it feels like the work of a different group. [#64, p.84]

The balance of the album is crammed to capacity with placeholders for more fully developed ideas.

For possibly the first time ever, it's hard to tell if he's trying too hard or not trying hard enough. [No. 109, p.56]

The lyrics are often buried in the mix. [No. 128, p.61]

Much of Cistern feels deliberately nebulous, washed-out and distended. [No. 133, p.55]

The multicultural mix and match works best on “Oh, Mojave.”... However, the Ruby Suns are less appealing when they land closer to home.

Though No Coast possesses its vivifying moments. It's pretty clear not all the organs made it back after the post-Frame And Canvas autopsy. [No. 111, p.52]

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]

Taken in one sitting, Our Thickness is just wearying. [#68, p.110]

At his best, Ward's always walked a fine line between eloquence and vagueness, hope and disappointment. It's been a great source of tension, and he does that about half the time here. [No.86, p.59]

Sometimes the gambles pay off... and sometimes they don't. [#74, p.108]