Village Voice's Scores

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For 764 reviews, this publication has graded:
  • 47% higher than the average critic
  • 3% same as the average critic
  • 50% lower than the average critic
On average, this publication grades 5.1 points lower than other critics. (0-100 point scale)
Average Music review score: 68
Highest review score: 100 The Naked Truth
Lowest review score: 10 God Says No
Score distribution:
  1. Positive: 517 out of 764
  2. Mixed: 199 out of 764
  3. Negative: 48 out of 764
764 music reviews
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    • 78 Metascore
    • 80 Critic Score
    Black City
    The lyrics themselves--overstocked with darkness, paranoia, and bodily fluids--are as indecipherable as the vocals are buried. They're scene-setters. It's the death-disco groove that intoxicates and defines this City.
    • 87 Metascore
    • 60 Critic Score
    The Suburbs
    It's profoundly self-serious, expertly workmanlike, occasionally transcendent, but lacking that childlike volatility, that glorious willingness to look and sound ridiculous. It's rare that so much nonetheless leaves you wanting more.
    • 72 Metascore
    • 60 Critic Score
    King of the Beach
    Williams's record is brisk, clocking in under 40 minutes. But it takes far more risks, dabbling in Animal Collective–ish psych pastiche on "Baseball Cards," Kurt Fauxbain dummy posturing on the riotous "Idiot," and Phil Spector homage not once but twice-on the magical "Da Doo Run Run"–lifting "Mickey Mouse" and, less impressively, with a rip of the "Be My Baby" beat on "When Will You Come."
    • 76 Metascore
    • 70 Critic Score
    Str8 Killa [EP]
    While Str8 Killa is every bit as consistent as his first two tapes, there's a sense that Gibbs has hit his ceiling, both artistically and in what he can hope to accomplish without a record deal.
    • 76 Metascore
    • 60 Critic Score
    Crazy for You
    Her lyrics are a tricky thing-their literalism is both their greatest strength and a crippling weakness.
    • 79 Metascore
    • 80 Critic Score
    Teflon Don
    The ridiculously extravagant and extravagantly ridiculous new Teflon Don is certain to only rile folks up further; in its sound, scope, ambition, and arm's-length relationship to reality.
    • 68 Metascore
    • 80 Critic Score
    MAYA
    She remains vitally important to The Discourse for that reason alone. Maya both reminds you of that fact-of that sickly sweet spot only she can hit-and warns you how long and punishing a road it can be to get there. For her, and for you.
    • 77 Metascore
    • 80 Critic Score
    Flesh Tone
    These songs, for all their Top 40 disco glitter (will.i.am. signed her to his label and executive-produces here), compel with their tradeoffs between vulnerability and euphoria, though if you aren't paying attention, they're slick enough to pass as merely exceptional pop-radio or club-floor fodder.
    • 90 Metascore
    • 90 Critic Score
    Sir Lucious Left Foot: The Son of Chico Dusty
    The resulting, mercifully final product is, as you might have suspected all along, fantastic, by turns triumphant, defiant, and gleefully crass.
    • 48 Metascore
    • 40 Critic Score
    Can't Be Tamed
    A lot of its songs are ballads that ooze sap like an abandoned sponge.
    • 80 Metascore
    • 70 Critic Score
    American Slang
    The Gaslight Anthem's profound affection for and commitment to their forebears are just as present as they were before, but only here does the band sound as eager to bury as to praise them.
    • 75 Metascore
    • 80 Critic Score
    Thank Me Later
    Drake is not changing rap, because the thing Drake is worst at is rap. It's everything else that can-and probably will-change. Perspectives, tempos, the very notion of entitlement . . . they're all up for grabs.
    • 56 Metascore
    • 60 Critic Score
    Bionic
    Left unasked is the question of whether you needed that-the bondage theme, the 10-octave tantrum, the synth war, all of that-but don't expect the rest of her new album, Bionic, to inquire, either.
    • 77 Metascore
    • 80 Critic Score
    White Crosses
    White Crosses is all shiny and fresh and proudly expedient, without proving a thing except that Against Me! are fully capable of doing it again.
    • 89 Metascore
    • 80 Critic Score
    Merriweather Post Pavilion
    MPP is filled with enough new achievements that it's a waste of space to lament the past. It's a rhythm record with an atmosphere.
    • 85 Metascore
    • 80 Critic Score
    Emeritus
    Scarface remains trapped in the four-cornered room of his mind, but he seems to have found a measure of peace in solitude, turning out quietly masterful albums like this one, and letting time turn him into a weathered monument.
    • 75 Metascore
    • 80 Critic Score
    Everything That Happens Will Happen Today
    Byrne's singing was never exactly the first thing you loved about him--he so often has the high-pitched blankness of a sustained yawn. But he sounds lovely here, age bringing a surer and rawer tone along with more confidence in his question mark.
    • 75 Metascore
    • 80 Critic Score
    808s & Heartbreak
    808s & Heartbreak can be queasy and even morally indefensible sometimes. But that puerile sentiment also gives it its force.
    • 68 Metascore
    • 60 Critic Score
    Theater Of The Mind
    As a consequence of his preoccupation with acting and "lyricism," Luda neglects to do what he does best: make fun music.
    • 49 Metascore
    • 30 Critic Score
    Dark Horse
    Their latest is ridiculously brazen, comically outsized, and defiantly Bruckheimer-esque.
    • 69 Metascore
    • 50 Critic Score
    Sunday At Devil Dirt
    Although Devil Dirt has its rewarding moments, they're usually matters of arrangement rather than execution or personality, which means it's more about the chemistry of boy-meets-girl than about the specific boy or girl.
    • 71 Metascore
    • 70 Critic Score
    Thr33 Ringz
    Even when veering wildly away from good sense--and 'Change' is hardly a sensical move--there’s an unwitting pop hit right around the bend.
    • 73 Metascore
    • 80 Critic Score
    Fearless
    Swift may not possess the vocal power to fully sell her more lyrically generic material (Underwood's great gift), but for the most part, this remarkably self-aware adolescent's words don't falter, masterfully avoiding the typical diarist's pitfalls of trite banality and pseudo-profound bullshit.
    • 67 Metascore
    • 70 Critic Score
    The Singles
    The first 25 minutes of this loose compilation come as close to perfection as you could hope....The five remixes that make up the rest of The Singles aren't bad by any stretch, but they all try to drag the band closer to conventional dance music, whereas the band's power lies precisely in the way they already belong on the dance floor without overselling themselves or smoothing out their rougher edges.
    • 78 Metascore
    • 80 Critic Score
    A Hundred Things Keep Me Up At Night
    Love Is All's boisterous clamor is the real draw here. The band skips over cerebral tricks and hep posturing, instead going straight for adrenalized kicks, and it's a rush that lasts long after the record ends.
    • 59 Metascore
    • 50 Critic Score
    Soul
    His signature baritone, with its raspy textures and controlled intensity fits well with Southern soulster styles. However, he rarely diverts far from the original arrangements.
    • 82 Metascore
    • 80 Critic Score
    The Renaissance
    After myriad delays and label woes, it's clear the interminable wait for new material was worth it.
    • 70 Metascore
    • 80 Critic Score
    Play
    Its darkness relative to the other stuff here (blues shuffle, surf pastiche, Les Paul tribute, B.B. King duet) is startling, even if the tune turns out to be about his wife.
    • 75 Metascore
    • 80 Critic Score
    (K)no(w)here
    The record moves with an ear toward its broader gains as one song diced into eight, another crafty epic that takes its theme from this year's headlines.
    • 70 Metascore
    • 70 Critic Score
    Ropechain
    With Ropechain, the emotional turnaround's reversed: An initial, burning desire to hate everything about this album--the stylistic mish-mash, the artistic blackface, the blah cover art--gives way to wary admiration, even though it's hard to shake the sense that its creator's something of a jerk.
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