Frontman Adam Olenius lobs his bon mots over tunes that borrow from Beck, the Velvet Underground, Bright Eyes, and the Cure. But when Olenius waxes roantic and serves up yet another ace, it's hard to complain. [Oct 2007, p.110]

Though Dilla's rapping is never more than competent, Ruff Draft is still a platform for the versatility of his eccentric genius. [Apr 2007, p.88]

Men's Needs isn't nearly as unique as Jarman thinks, but his tunecraft is often as sharp as his wit. [Aug 2007, p.100]

On the band's seventh studio album, Incubus fully embrace surf-bum balladry.

Here, though, watery, joke-free confessionals like "This Is Home" and "After Midnight" sound comparatively adrift.

Peñate sometimes goes astray--'So Near' finds him breezily slinging dopey cliches (“Love is not a game”). Fortunately, his natural exuberance carries the day.

The Montreal group has never sounded so desperate or epic as on their fifth album's four earth-scorching, quarter-hour compositions.

This set of hissy practice tapes varies greatly in quality with the demented trashing of a Beatles melody on "The Masks" and the snotty sneer of "Can You Give Me a Thrill???" abutting stoned instrumentals and solo noodling.

At its best, Weird Revolution is danceable and degenerate... It's a tight package, but the holes start to show on the title track... [Oct 2001, p.132]

For all its languid rookie charms, In Heaven might be best remembered as the harbinger of a more consistent sequel.

Subtle... build their hybrid from a quarter century of pop and college radio, then animate it with a megawatt jolt of race/class anxiety. [Dec 2006, p.100]

The most arresting moments on Tears in the Club come when he is working with singers. ... The rest of Tears in the Club is instrumental, aside from the snatches of sampled vocals that Kingdom has long favored in his tracks, and the mix of formats renders the album a somewhat inconsistent listen.

Powered by rattling drums, simmering organ, and Stuart Staples' resonant baritone, the first half of Tindersticks' latest is a can't-miss proposition....Too bad the disc's second half descends into a morass of half-finished, melancholic curios that mostly go nowhere lowly.

of whether the dance-punk grooves and elusive, histrionic hooks resonate, Thorpe has a point he's determined to make: Even the most sensitive fop can be a hormonal horndog.

Too many perfectly good songs that never quite approach greatness. [Oct 2007, p.108]

Having long since traded abstraction for irascibility and wistfulness, Dylan still offers flashes of black humor (“Hell is my wife’s hometown”) over the ten songs, but the fatalism that’s marked much of his recent work is in short supply.

Positions is less captivating than Thank U, Next and Sweetener, both of which felt more complete and unskippable. But for an album no one knew was coming until two weeks ago, it’s more than adequate.

As long as Midnight Memories offers chorus after chorus of Gary Glitter-style fodderstompf, it sounds like the best boy-band album since No Strings Attached.

He can't really pull off Dylan-ish literariness, but when he's loose, he more than earns his corduroy vest and Kris Kristofferson beard.

Goofy if not guileless, Telepathe seem intentionally designed as a guilty pleasure.

The Israeli threesome's second full-length, though, provides fewer surprises, dutifully thundering through rage-rock history as singer Ami Shalev alternates between growl and yowl to communicate a life-is-short-might-as-well-bash message.

What gets stultifying over the course of 38 minutes can be invigorating in small, pep-talk size bursts.

He's relying on the same sad melodies. And they're still quite effective. [Oct 2006, p.96]

Occup[ies] a hushed netherworld between classical minimalists like Erik Satie and Timbaland (without the beats). [Mar 2007, p.86]

The sweetness of Strawberry Jam is savvily balanced by the sour, or at least the edgy. [Oct 2007, p.98]

The aspirations here are lofty, as always, if less reflective than your average NIN lament; the songs swell, bobble, and even leak from the seams under the pressure.

Best known as the distinctive voice of backpack hip-hop faves Jurassic 5, Chali 2na is sometimes reduced to a supporting role on his solo debut.

Thanks to Supergrass' long-standing dedication to the well-placed smirk, they never succumb to sappiness. [Apr 2008, p.100]