It’s a better album than 2012’s conflicted, twilit Four, but Okereke’s new grace awaits an engine as powerful as the one enjoyed by his old gracelessness.

On their third album, these dizzying British metalcore chemists swing erratically in an effort to shake genre conventions, flirting with dystopic Max Headroom stutter, electro gloom, and tender indie-folk cuddles.

Lifeline is a commanding, unjammy take on gospel-influenced rock, featuring his most spiritual singing since 2004's Grammy-winning collaboration with the Blind Boys of Alabama.

On their third album, this San Francisco–based, Mark Kozelek–led bunch stumble over saccharine set-opener "Lost Verses" (which channels icky Young wannabes America with less success than Midlake) en route to a beautifully depressing array of funereal folk.

The results feel tossed-off at times, but Iggy still flashes his charm and humor.

Their smoky, atmospheric ballads are too languid by half, but Telefon Tel Aviv's bright melodic palette keeps Immolate Yourself from descending into a dull fog.

Tortoise have erased virtually all of their music’s familiar signifiers, opting now for stylistic mashes that fall into anonymity as often as they reach new, exciting places.

In the case of Twelve Reasons to Die II, the glass is slightly more than half full.

The diversity of the players is reflected in the sprawling songs, many of feel like patchworks.

Equal parts bang and whimper. [Jun 2006, p.81]

The trio are certainly equipped for the challenge, since they're already experienced purveyors of foreboding, romantic, minor-keyed dreaminess; but their dub-tinged candle-flicker sometimes trades haunting for drab.

Murray doesn't sound like he's going anywhere but straight home after last call. [June 2008, p.119]

He’s chosen good material and done right by it. But Kill the Lights sees him both at an apex and a crossroad.

If the studio stuff lacks punch, her live material pulls fresh meaning from her music's subtlety. [Feb 2002, p.110]

As is, Uptown Special plays a little like a Spotify playlist on random--fun, and unexpectedly thrilling at times, but jarring and never totally satisfying.

Craft can be a cage, and come the eleventeenth pleasant chord progression and workmanlike melody, the album's title may portend the listener's immediate future.

The debut album from this London quartet, founded by laptop folkies Sam Genders and Stephen Cracknell, lulls you along with its sparsely melodic tinkering and blippy slow burn. [July 2008, p.92]

In fact, throughout, older brother gets the best of his carefree little sibling. Breezier doesn't always equal better.

The arresting second album from this five-piece trades the jangly folk rock of their only-pleasant debut for a harsher, more jittery approach.

Ultimately, Wild Water never hits as hard as its predecessor, and can't match it in terms of either focus or breadth.

Its follow-up is where they relax--literally. [Nov 2007, p.126]

Justin Timberlake, Timbaland anf Timbo's partner Nate "Danja" Hills, provide a reasonably good return on investment. [Dec 2007, p.118]

Hip-hop-style braggadocio doesn't quite jibe with the band's relentlessly earnest outlook, which comes packaged here in songs no less hooky or propulsive than usual. It might have provided a jolt of excitement, though; even the amped-up standouts (like "Coffee and Cigarettes") are beginning to feel a bit by the numbers.

It's more ideation than practice, which is why the too-cluttered American Beauty/American Psycho won't be this band's American Idiot.

They're an American band that sound like British Francophiles, right down to the pip-pip accent in leader Jay Gordon's Gary Numan pout. [12/2000, p.223]

So no, this is not a cohesive crew album, but has there really been one since Marley Marl's In Control, Vol. 1 came out 24 years ago?

Bear[s] the mark of Big Star. [Jul 2006, p.85]

The follow-up proves Tunstall is no fluke.... but it also maks clear that Tunstall's glaring faults--dull lyrics filled with pedestrian phrases--aren't fleeting, either. [Oct 2007, p.112]