Though less indebted to the Smiths... these tidally anthemic doom-ditties still manage to sound more dire. [Oct 2006, p.135]

El Guincho has only himself to get along with, but you'd never know it just listening to his album. [Dec 08/Jan 09, p.78]

The elliptical vein opening, restless country twang and surging metal riffage have never sounded more confident. [Jun 2007, p.107]

Some songs are all middle, stuck on what might be mere bridges by, say, Rufus Wainwright or Paul Simon. Yet Bird’s open-field poetics do let a wider world creep in, from the corruption of ecosystems to the isolation that can afflict a touring musician or a declining leader alike.

Pleasant at a distance, the stealthy Son is downright mindblowing at close range. [Jun 2006, p.142]

A great record to play at 3 A.M. [#10, p.112]

A raw, passionate record. [#14, p.135]

It’s hard to listen to Already Free without thinking: Visine. Need Visine. That’s how redolent of pot-smoke-and-jam-band mud fields this music is.

It's a shockingly entertaining record riddled with moody hooks. [Sep 2007, p.128]

Ward still sounds most himself when he gets lost in his own world.

They invigorate brainy pop by adding slight belligerence. [#18, p.134]

No More suffers from a relentless sense of goth gloom that's as claustrophobic as a church confessional. [Jun/Jul 2001, p.107]

[Adebimpe's] singing is consistently riveting, and the oddball mix gives it room to flourish. [Apr 2004, p.138]

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

The genius of Sexsmith’s seventh and best work is the way he surrounds (or, depending on your perspective, atones for) the empathy overload with deftly assimilated, gloriously ascendant pop hookcraft.

At its best, the echo-chamber soup of flute trills, infinitely cascading drums and fuzz-ball stoner riffs does seep into your head and expand the contents. But the jams often drift when Ejstes wants them to glide; his singing, all in Swedish, is a touch whiny; and his ear for melody can be painfully flat.

What's amazing about Alright, Still is how similar the girl with the blog is to the girl with the hit record. [Mar 2007, p.129]

Though long, it's strong. [Oct 2005, p.134]

Backspacer is the bands most mature album to date and clocking in at just over 36 minutes, it is also their most condensed work; It’s as if Pearl Jam is channeling Ernest Hemingway, with not a wasted breath or note anywhere to be found.

Nas can still dazzle on the mic. [Jan/Feb 2007, p.87]

Sounds like the work of musicians who've spent just half an hour apart, not 20-odd years. [#11, p.143]

As Zwan create a louder and less obviously pop eclat than the Pumpkins, they also turn more minimal. Their first record has one theme: the electric guitar. [#14, p.140]

This is a credible update on the classic Killing Joke sound. [Oct 2003, p.118]

This is the least austere record they've ever made, and the fresh air helps their odd, raw narratives flourish. [#8, p.122]

Every instrument here distorts, giving tearjerkers like 'I’ll Dream Alone' complementary grit.

On their fourth record, the tempos are slower, the guitars thick and meaty, the rants kinda melodic, the thoughts impressionistic.

Over girl-group incantations, reggae lilt and courageously dinky old-school hip-hop allusions, Gartside searches for his emotional car keys, each comely coo abstracting him further from the truth he seeks. [Aug 2006, p.117]

Saadiq is a romantic who stays true to the deliberate simplicity of such titles as 'Sure Hope You Mean It' and 'Just One Kiss.' But his adaptable baritone is always crisp and cocky--he never threatens to assume the fetal position if he doesn’t get the extreme cuddling he craves.