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]