The kind of boiling, roiling blues the Bad Seeds haven't cooked up in years. [Nov 2004, p.131]

The pulse underscoring the album keeps it hopping when the songs meander. [Nov 2004, p.142]

The real hero is Sean Eden, whose lyrical lead guitar--a bit Harrison, a bit Morricone--makes even the silliest songs sound majestic. [Nov 2004, p.138]

Here, their frustration with scheming girlfriends and negligent boyfriends boils over into a cathartic froth. [Nov 2004, p.132]

The proceedings get a little bit samey, but the band's fearless optimism and knack for a bookish groove are hard to deny. [Dec 2004, p.140]

If Borrell's originality ever equals his confidence, Razorlight might be as good as he thinks they are. [Nov 2004, p.141]

Every song has hooks so polished you can see your reflection in them. [Dec 2004, p.142]

Slower into its stride, with tune-free twittering and dull homages to FX-pedal rock making up the first half. [Jan/Feb 2005, p.123]

Much of [Sheets] sounds like a pop-punk update on Springsteen. [Nov 2004, p.137]

[Frontman Jim] Adkins loosens the reins with darker themes and longer songs... but the guitars and harmonies have never been brighter. [Nov 2004, p.139]

They just sound cranky here, and their beats are mostly perfunctory. [Nov 2004, p.137]

Beans's themes may be everyday, but thankfully his wit isn't. [Nov 2004, p.129]

As hipsters, the Yorkshire quartet are still total non-starters, but [North] sees producer Brendan O'Brien honing their gonzo essence to more sizeable effect. [Nov 2004, p.138]

His bleakness was never this naked or all-consuming. [Nov 2004, p.143]

Weird, hook-filled, and irresistible. [Nov 2004, p.146]

The default setting is funk-pop bombast augmented by horribly dated electronica. [Nov 2004, p.128]

[Dents] is, by Buckner's standards, gentle. [Nov 2004, p.130]

Strangely compelling. [Nov 2004, p.129]

The best of Shadows lives in murky half-light where texture matters as much as melody. [Oct 2004, p.112]

Hearing "Cactus" and "Subbacultcha" transformed into droning ambient jazz is upsetting, yet somehow perfect for this listen-once-and-destroy disc. [Dec 2004, p.134]

Eitzel sounds like he's finally emerging from the murk. [Nov 2004, p.128]

This is the hip-hop equivalent of an all-stops pulled, Oscar-ready performance: mushily sentimental, self-righteously indignant and constantly in your face. [Nov 2004, p.138]

Moves seamlessly from ironic cock-rock and steel guitar-kissed hymns to crisply melodic pop and full-on hippie freakouts. [Oct 2004, p.116]

The ceaselessly blistering tone does get overbearing. [Nov 2004, p.145]

Neither for the faint of heart, nor for those allergic to pretentiousness. [Jan/Feb 2005, p.103]

Cook's dance music has seen better days. [Oct 2004, p.115]

R.E.M.'s recent albums have increasingly resembled singer-songwriter records. Around The Sun is much the best of the last three... because the tunes are better. [Nov 2004, p.140]

Dawson tunefully balances girlish zeal with womanly maturity. [Nov 2004, p.132]

The acoustic Spooked surveys post-millennial life. [Nov 2004, p.135]

Waits returns to spare storytelling. [Oct 2004, p.130]

Dulcet R&B hooks are spoonfuls of sugar that make De La catchy enough for a new generation of fans. [Nov 2004, p.132]

Welcome to tonight's Very Special Episode of pop-punk. [Nov 2004, p.130]

The hipster thrills are fading. [Oct 2004, p.116]

They've given up on ugliness for its own sake, trading it in for prettiness, which allows McCracken to rest his throat. [Oct 2004, p.128]

Split[s] the difference between guaranteed hook appeal and a decent simulation of emotional truth. [Oct 2004, p.129]

As limp as a broken guitar string. [Oct 2004, p.114]

At worst, the wordy Travistan borders on hectoring... At his danceable best, Morrison ingeniously manifests his big concepts and even bigger heart. [Nov 2004, p.138]

She's a poised pop queen, ready to be worshiped once again. [Nov 2004, p.141]

These B-boys are as forward-thinking as they get. [Oct 2004, p.122]

Less lugubrious and more melodic than [Bright Lights], but the improvement is marginal. [Oct 2004, p.119]

Like [J.J.] Cale, Knopfler prefers murmuring to emoting while threading fancy little guitar figures through songs that can't decide whether to shuffle into the haze or nod off. [Nov 2004, p.136]

Despite Wilson's wrecked voice, it's surprisingly grand and moving. [Nov 2004, p.146]

There's little unity of sound, but more than enough passion and unity of purpose. [Oct 2004, p.125]

Presents a rarity--a genuinely new sound. [Nov 2004, p.136]

Immediately transforms VHS or Beta from disco revivalists into one of rock's best new bands. [Oct 2004, p.130]

Problem is, [her] words are rarely about anything but her own dexterity. [Oct 2004, p.122]

It's Costello at his most emotionally direct. [Oct 2004, p.118]

Freak[s] out thoughtfully. [Oct 2004, p.129]

Concept or not, American Idiot is still decent fodder for a mosh pit, a luagh and a sob session. [Nov 2004, p.136]

The demo versions... sound like an incompetent Clash cover band rehearsing in a sock.... If you're considering buying this glorious record for the first time, save 20 bucks and go for the basic version. [Oct 2004, p.136]

It's Banhart's gift for melody that ultimately carries the day. [Nov 2004, p.128]

They are still greasy rock & rollers who know how to keep a party going. [Oct 2004, p.120]

A strained, washed-out, sluggish record. [Oct 2004, p.129]

Severe... it's hard rock rigorously stripped of frivolity and glamour. [Oct 2004, p.128]

Sweat... is more fun, but that's the point. [Oct 2004, p.126]

You sense Timms has seen it all. [Oct 2004, p.130]

Every track emerges as ugly and joyless as the one before. [Oct 2004, p.127]

By turns sensual and despondent. [Oct 2004, p.126]

He's got some solid grooves... but a lot of them are borrowed. [Sep 2004, p.136]

Some of Dizzee's insecurity is replaced by newfound swagger. But swagger works, too. [Oct 2004, p.112]

Reveals added nuance with every listen. [Jan/Feb 2005, p.102]

Perspiration trumps inspiration, as madly sawing strings and short-circuiting robot bleeps compensate for the lack of hooks. [Oct 2004, p.120]

Sounds like it's been held in a vault since her heyday. [Oct 2004, p.112]

Could be the best album he's ever made. [Dec 2004, p.146]

Roman's politically spiked lyrics sound shrugged-off and flimsy. [Sep 2004, p.141]

He is clearly invigorated by the tensions between pretty and ugly, simplicity and chaos. [Nov 2004, p.130]

A poorly-recorded collection of lazily-written songs recorded by an artist whose muse deserted him long ago. [Oct 2004, p.131]

Auerbach's fat, rocketing riffs are rivaled only by his Delta-dipped drawl. [Oct 2004, p.114]

Lush and idyllic. [Nov 2004, p.142]

His band remains unsubtly one-dimensional... but Shaddix funnels a newfound sensitivity into gashing, coarsely melodic emo-metal that aches as much as it breaks. [Oct 2004, p.126]

Mostly, he's outmuscled by the production. [Oct 2004, p.122]

A thrilling, frustrating souvenir of a band whirling out of control. [Sep 2004, p.130]

It's conceptually daring, but beyond a few ecstatic moments... the sound is familiarly Bjorkish. [Oct 2004, p.113]

Laces the Unit's thugs-to-riches formula with chunks of the Dirty South. [Aug 2004, p.143]

This is rock theater of the most uninspired kind. [Aug 2004, p.136]

These records are too dramatic, too personal and, well, too much. [Oct 2004, p.110]

The album is livelier for its contradictions. [Oct 2004, p.124]

All very beguilling as long as you really, really like the sound of a melodica. [Sep 2004, p.134]

For Beep Beep, New Wave means not zippy synth-pop but the brute force of '70s punk turned into screwed-up yet finely calibrated outbursts. [Sep 2004, p.134]

He's more vehement than ever before, and the music feels rag-and-bone honest. [Sep 2004, p.136]

These rough, bitter, ruminative songs are slower, longer and wordier than those on Decoration Day. [Sep 2004, p.139]

Sturdy (and bland) anthems built on overused U2 chords and several barnstorming R&B vamps notable for thowback horn riffs and Aretha Franklin-style backing vocals. [Sep 2004, p.138]

Ambitiously wide-ranging. [Aug 2004, p.133]

Here, [Saliva] temper their mid-tempo crunch with '80s-metal guitar heroics and Southern-rock fundamentalism. [Sep 2004, p.141]

WFTD occasionally give in to the urge to crank up the fuzz and play straight-up indie rock, but the narrower each song's scope is, the more it feels like it should go on forever. [Oct 2004, p.131]

Snoop sounds great without saying anything he hasn't already said many times... Which is a testament to his abilities, but it's a bit disappointing, too. [Sep 2004, p.132]

Only on the album-closing "Summer Never Ends"... do the gals sound like they're relaxed and doing their own thing--not trying to make Paula's Boutique. [Sep 2004, p.140]

The momentous band [on the 1980-81 disc] stretches out and jams, both celebrating and escaping the band's trademark anxiety. [Sep 2004, p.158]

[Their] constant shifts in perspective aren't distracting, they're divine. [Oct 2004, p.126]

Full of life and energy. [Sep 2004, p.138]

Where they once spun enveloping hood verite, here they just list gangsta signifiers without building a world from them. [Aug 2004, p.136]

Many beats... sound cheap, and many rhymes... trade drama for tough-guy same-old. [Oct 2004, p.128]

Listening to these tales of failing relationships feels like eavesdropping, but it's irresistible. [Sep 2004, p.136]

Lanegan has finally produced his long-threatened masterpiece. [Oct 2004, p.125]

These songs create a series of vivid but minimal soundscapes. [Sep 2004, p.140]

Her effortless cool has gained range. [Sep 2004, p.144]

Get past the sometimes cloying pastoral arrangements and the often cornball sentiments and there are moments of ragged glory. [Sep 2004, p.132]

The Texas combo strings together images that never add up to cohesive narratives. [Aug 2004, p.137]