So goofy and heartfelt it's endearing. [Apr 2006, p.114]

Where past albums documented a litany of bummers, cascading melodies now airbrush moments of depression or kinkiness--even the horny groupie of 'Natural Disaster' sounds like a girl you could take home to Mom. Higgenson’s new outlook is surprising.

Isbell’s recitation--defiantly unexciting in its averageness--doesn’t help. But the thing is, the guy can really write.

Labored production isn’t the only problem.

On their fifth album, they crack the window, slow the motor (except on 'Shopping Bag,' a jazz-punk binge and purge) and take side trips into primeval glades where runic rites are conducted on acoustic guitars.

Superfine pop moments never stifle the underlying Jamaican flavor... even if Beenie sometimes sounds a bit like a guest on his own album. [#10, p.114]

Feels like surprisingly generic party rap. [May 2004, p.126]

Dry and straightforward disco-soul. [Jul 2005, p.116]

Without a target for their ire, TBS opt for sheer emo relentlessness. [May 2006, p.111]

Even the best of these tracks lack the grimy menace of the most thrilling Neptunes beats. [Sep 2006, p.147]

Even when he tries to make a connection between pickup lines and international tension, in “Made of Codes,” Peñate never forgets that even quasi-protest songs need a good beat.

They still have plenty of growl left in them. [Aug 2004, p.133]

This is music for the well-read rock fan and the would-be scoundrel. [Mar 2007, p.134]

The band’s fourth album turns down the roiling boil of 2004’s What Is This America? to a seductive simmer.

It's the sound of a 24-year-old accepting death, as imagined by a lifelong misfit aging gracefully. [Nov 2007, p.158

The Garbage machine doesn't always function so pristinely. [Oct/Nov 2001, p.105]

Odd, ambitious, confounding, and occasionally brilliant -- which is to say it's much like the five Aphex albums that preceded it. [#4, p.114]

The music's intellectualism obscures as many truths as it unveils. [Mar 2007, p.130]

On album two, his focus switches from coke to cash as he booms about his fleet of Maybachs (on the soaring T-Pain synthfest 'The Boss') and prepaying his baby daughter’s college tuition.

Westerberg delivers a hook, an idea and a subtle emotion on nearly every track. [Jun/Jul 2002, p.116]

As Clef drops mostly trite lines about green cards, strippers and police harassment, this strategy either succeeds brillantly--or goes haywire. [Nov 2007, p.153]

Robinson establishes himself as a distinctive singer, his world-weary yet optimistic drawl no longer beholden to the rock larynxes of yore. [#11, p.140]

Lacks some of the cocksure oomph of his debut, though RZA does try to broaden his sonic palette. [Aug/Sep 2001, p.128]

Too often... Branch expresses loneliness or betrayal or yearning without the precision or detail that would make her sentiments memorable. [#17, p.132]

Unusually crafty for a stoner-rock record. [May 2006, p.111]

Its 12 tracks are unusually raucous and raw, as Kravitz finds a comfort zone with turbocharged punk and arena rock. [Oct/Nov 2001, p.111]

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

Start the 18-song album in the middle, and embarrassments like Nicks's "Illume (9-11)" reced behind love songs that exorcise pain with an accusatory chorus and a skein of guitars. [May 2003, p.116]

This album sends her style to rehab, cleaning up messy edges and emotional extremes. [May 2005, p.124]

The result is slight but often gorgeous. [Apr 2008, p.77]

They’re closer to turning monstrous dexterity into gut-wrenching metal, but for now, the oblatory goats and virgins are safe.

Despite Gabriel's performances, there are no hits here. [#10, p.117]

Austere in its beauty and a little wearying. [Mar 2005, p.143]

The album’s dense, electronically seasoned pop includes her catchiest tune in two decades.

It’s obvious, obnoxious and effective.

The raw, first-take sound of most of these songs is impressive--Suicide remain the most genuinely punk of electronic bands. [#11, p.144]

There's nothing remotely original about any of it. [Apr 2007, p.111]

On record five, their lovely, surging melodies suggest a minor-league Coldplay, while singer-guitarist Matthew Caws recalls a lost golden age “when I could fix anything with sound.”

While Costa is almost too glamorous for her own good, she flaunts that old-school splendor that generates apt comparisons to early Lenny Kravitz. [Jun/Jul 2001, p.107]

When they're not straining to be anthemic, Turin Brakes still weave a seductive spell. [#14, p.143]

This set bogs down when the band flaunts its slow-chug technique at the expense of hooks and jokes. [#27, p.139]

[Several songs] sound way too much like Strokes castoffs, a situation little helped by... Fridmann's unusually heavy-handed production. [Mar 2004, p.125]

Despite its epic ambitions, this is a more streamlined, less colorful statement than TSOOL's 2001 Behind The Music, and only occasionally attains earth-moving power. [Apr 2005, p.125]

He's self-mocking enough to earn his laddish hell-raising. [May 2006, p.107]

Underneath his architecturally impressive hair, front guy Justin Pierre is a savvy melodic songwriter and, refreshingly, he’s completely incapable of taking himself seriously.

Bursts with neat production touches. [#4, p.116]

Full of clever wordplay one moment, kind of pretentious the next. [Oct 2005, p.134]

Aguilera cowrote most of the songs, and she sounds surer of her themes than [Britney] Spears did in a similar I'm-coming-out role last year. [#12, p.138]

They've... picked up the tempo, sweetened the tunes and upgraded the rhythm section. [Mar 2006, p.109]

The music tends to drift along unobtrusively.

For most of Charmbracelet, she sticks to a gauzy, breathy, phone-sex coo, muzzling her inner diva until the final verse or a few ultrasonic high notes in the fade-out. [#13, p.92]

The material sinks or swims on the quality of [Duritz's] brooding. [#8, p.116]

There's a complancency about this record. [June 2008, p.73]

Fist delivers a gut punch of awesomely distorted synths and raw, kicks-and-snares percussion....But maintaining a fist-pumping pace can be exhausting.

He has a dusky, intimate voice and a weakness for overwrought lyrics. [May 2004, p.126]

Recalls the Beta Band with the "wacky" knob mercifully turned down, and the wild musical eclecticism tempered by an endearing warmth and a wealth of gorgeous melodies. [#11, p.126]

[Brock is] adept at wringing out emotion while straddling sentimentality, but too often here, gauche studio affectations make his sap sound plain cheap. [Apr 2004, p.134]

Crimson's current incarnation combines the sounds of previous editions, especially the early math-rock of the mid-'70s and the deft, Talking Heads-redolent Ph.D-funk of the early '80s. [#14, p.138]

Gummere’s voice is no one’s idea of pretty, and his lyrics are sometimes hard to decipher over the squall. But they’re both secondary to the nose-bloodying sonic punch.

This formula wears thin over the 15 cuts here. [#27, p.137]

Petty, never good at deep thinking, tries to introduce some grand gestures and literary flourishes, but they're forced compared with his amiably corny odes to driving and boozing. [Sep 2006, p.147]

Recorded in Matt’s childhood bedroom with their trademark teenage palette (a Casiotone, Matt’s nasal whinge and Kim’s bubbly punk beats), their sophomore album plays like the indie-musical version of one of those yesterday-I-was-a-teenager-but-now-I’m magically-an-adult ’80s movies.

A new, liberating vulnerability marks the more reflective songs. [May 2006, p.110]

His ornate, piano-driven arrangements cite a wide variety of musical sources, from indie pop to Gershwin to trip-hop and back again. [Jun/Jul 2001, p.116]

Organ-laced acoustic ballads like "Block Island" are a tad too drowsy for the disc's tough topics. [Aug 2004, p.134]

It's fun enough, until the interminable breakup theme that drags down the second half. [Dec 2004, p.136]

When Cave is bad he's unbeatable, but when he's good he's darn near awful. [Apr 2005, p.133]

Tighter and more energized than anything the band has done since Vitalogy. [Jun 2006, p.142]

Anyone who's enjoyed its predecessor may not find the follow-up effort entirely essential. [#12, p.145]

She spices mountain purism with rich instrumental and vocal harmony. [#9, p.153]

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

This successor improves, sonically (recording in a studio with a producer will do that) and in its energy and sharp writing.

There's rambling, digital fiddling and self-indulgent sprawl here, but a sense of purpose, too, even as her lips move on autopilot. [#20, p.114]

There isn't a bad song or performance on it. Unfortunately, there isn't a new song or performance on it either. [Jun 2005, p.117]

His calm articulation and clean beats never waver--where once he copped to vices and joked about dirty asses, now his “naked funk” is all about a craft that won’t quit. That’s impressive. But it’s also limited.

McCrea is still spinning wry, keenly observed stories, though the band has broadened its stylistic base some... [Aug/Sep 2001, p.121]

Romantica is Luna's most energetic record ever. Which isn't saying much. [Apr/May 2002, p.115]

She's a surprisingly convincing country singer. [Sep 2006, p.143]

The Deftones' fifth album turns the dial to "statesmen." [Dec 2006, p.172]

The real problem is sounding like Alice In Chains; afloat without a genre, the gang too often turn their emotional intelligence to making kinda dark, vaguely artistic middle metal. [Sep 2005, p.138]

It's hard to find LL in the crowd. [Jun 2006, p.141]

Tapes 'n Tapes take not just their frazzled vocals but also their low-fi mixes, fuzzed-out guitars, semi-sequitur lyrics, falsetto refrains and general air of nearly falling apart from campus kings Pavement. [Aug 2006, p.114]

Mostly, Peaches sadomasochistic come-ons sound like a satire of phone-sex services, without the per-minute charges. [#11, p.139]

Donelly shows more confidence in her dreaminess than ever. [Apr/May 2002, p.113]

The oompah-oompah music-hall bounce, jolly sing-along tunes and attitude of playful whimsy haven't changed. [Jul 2007, p.116]

Usher has called Here I Stand his “grown and sexy” album, and he’s half right. Apart from a couple of A­up-tempo tracks by Danjahandz (“Appetite”) and Scandinavians-of-the-moment Stargate (“What’s a Man to Do”), the production is cocktail-lounge crunk, full of splashy cymbals, jazzy electric guitar and tinkly pianos.

The album seems resigned, defeated, passive -- like an hour-long sigh. [#17, p.130]

There are solid songs here... but the spliced-on attempts at gritty authenticity make every note on this record sound test-marketed. [#18, p.121]

Broader and more aggressive than both its predecessor and the 2001 English album Laundry Service, it also lacks a center of gravity. [Jan/Feb 2006, p.96]

Bright Lights isn't a trudging soundtrack to depression; it's laced with upbeat, albeit bittersweet, songwriting. [#9, p.148]

All the surfaces are exquisitely tasteful, all the string arrangements achingly melancholic. But there are no tunes. [#14, p.138]

The fine distinction between cool and blase, aloof and distant, seems to have eluded them. [Nov 2003, p.106]

In all, Eve achieves enough balance to continue reigning as hip-hop's most popular femme-fatale M.C. {#11, p.130]

She’s more geeky than queenly anyway, ­jazzily singing and breezily rapping over buoyant reggae and soul throwback beats sculpted by a guy named Adam who previously worked with American Idol finalist Elliott Yamin.

The sitar flourishes ini "Splitting Atoms" are muted by Learning's adult sheen, which lands this unusual record in an awkward middle ground between Bjork and, say, Oleta Adams. [#9, p.150]

The scholarship is too obvious at times... But at their streamlined best... it's like Britpop's glory years never waned. [Oct 2006, p.137]

With drums, strings, pianos, amps and backup singers, this is the biggest sounding record ever for a band that used to consist of one guy on acoustic guitar. [Apr 2008, p.81]

Has too many antiseptic beats and not nearly enough Timbaland. [May 2006, p.109]