Fern Knight is a delightfully creepy homage to Celtic-Appalachian tradition, and a compelling subversion of traditional folk structure.

The band’s first studio album in eight years takes the Farfisa-surf luminescence of 2003’s must-own, career-spanning Anthology deeper into psychedelia, for good and ill.

Old-school romantic Ville Valo croons as often as he screams, so that even when aiming for the stylistic median, a bit of local weirdness oozes forth to make Screamworks more interesting than it's designed to be.

Rather than give us a full album of "The Strokes Misremember the '80s," the band falls back repeatedly on self-imitation.

For the most part, Varshons is pleasantly predictable, with celebrity cameos (Kate Moss, Liv Tyler) and selections from legendary rakes Leonard Cohen and Townes Van Zandt that practically qualify as typecasting. But the countrified take on GG Allin's 'Layin' Up with Linda' provides a moment of effective shock value, and improbable redemption arrives with the closing track: Christina Aguilera's 'Beautiful.'

The songs here may be marginally less interesting than his best, but it's comforting to know that he can ratchet down the passion without losing it entirely. [Nov 2006, p.98]

If 'Called' and 'Dancing on Our Graves' try too hard to conjure the spooky vibe of ancient American roots music, the persistent acoustic guitars produce waves of modern static tension.

The result is less an uncommonly danceable indie-rap disc than it is an uncommonly thoughtful groove album. [May 2008, p.100]

AFI may not be breaking new ground, but they never forget who listens hardest.

In 2018, as it becomes more pressing than ever for artists to use their platforms to speak out, Love Is Dead pursues clarity, both in production and politics, with mixed results.

This folkie indie-pop band doesn't slam you with hooks on its fourth album--everything is catchy in a modest, reasonable way.

The harder the music hammers, the flatter the lyrics get. The more the band holds back, the stronger the songs become. Consequently, there's half of a great album here. [May 2007, p.83]

Admire feels oddly reined in, a transitional record by a band not yet willing to completely let go of the past.

It's rarely as lively as 2007's Last Light, but the interplay of organ, cello, and acoustic guitar on "Brooklyn Fawn" has a genuinely comforting warmth.

They're never slavish imitators, and when they goose the velocity--those comparisons gradually fade into classic, shimmery guitar pop. [Nov 2008, p.88]

More stompers like "White Night" and "123 Stop," bubblegum throwbacks with a Wilson Pickett kick, would be welcome.

The production, supplied by stellar guests ranging from Jay Dee and Rockwilder to the Plugs themselves, is clean and airy, with the boys floating on bubbles of flatulent bass and high-stepping over chirping guitar chords.... But if anything foils Art Official Intelligence, it's the wrath of the math: 11 of the album's 17 tracks feature guest appearances.

More danceable (and vulgar) than previous releases.

Here, [Califone] take a straighter path on their seventh album... but with the same basic ingredients. [Nov 2006, p.97]

It's not the conceptul masterpiece he was clearly hoping for, but there are moments of transcendence just the same. [Nov 2008, p.89]

On the follow-up to 2007's terrific Neptune City, Atkins trades that album's lush torch-song vibe for scrappier indie-garage arrangements that drain much of the drama and romance from her music.

From the stark bass-thump to the low-riding pacing, from Erick Sermon's blaxploitative strings on "Double Time" to Dre's tinny march on "X," the tracks complement his tales of 'hood trivia. [2/2001, p.107]

For their previous temporary-reunion album, 2003's Strays, these dark alt gods created a superslick din seemingly designed for radio, but definitely not your heart.

Audio, Video, Disco teeters on the edge of self-mockery, not an unfamiliar position for Justice.

Tom Rowlands and Ed Simons continue to smear psychedelic synth cheese and stereophonic airplane noises over chewy grooves that veer closer and closer to straight disco.

Though the title hints at darker turns, the album never steps out of the glare.

It’s a confusing but enjoyable record that sidesteps the rap hand-wringing and telegraphed weirdness of the drama surrounding Yachty.

The Brooklyn siblings forgo their 2007 album’s rock star cameos (Karen O, Gibby Haynes, Fred Schneider) and funnel their adolescent aggravations into nippy punk rousers, where closet monsters and rich kids alike get served a scuzzy skewering.