All that carefulness turns out to be bloodless. [Mar 2007, p.139]

With its stories of faithless lovers, broken relationships and speed-dealing suburban doctors, @#%&*! Smilers almost seems to feed off the stagnation. [Aug 2008, p.88]

Some sublime songs prevail over the adornments.

Not much happens, which seems to be the point. [Jan/Feb 2006, p.96]

A fizzling delight, jettisoning previous jazzy inclinations in favor of a gorgeous electronic pitter-patter that sets off Prekop's velvety, mourning vocals. [#14, p.143]

Gracefully balances dirty-South revelry with gorgeous graveyard reveries. [Oct 2005, p.141]

Political without preaching, sexy in a bookish way, this record will keep you up talking with someone you'd like to kiss. [Dec 2005, p.149]

The blend of organization--even the oddest, most precarious combinations of instruments sync up--and derangement is Animal Collective's version 2.0 of hippie whimsy, and it's quite a buzz [Oct 2007, p.105]

Murdoch's gift for loopy, tender, unshakeable hymns, stomps and meditations is untouchable. [Nov 2003, p.109]

More diabolical and daring than the band’s shaggy 2005 debut, Future peaks with the primordial 'Bright Lights.'

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

At times, i turns dangerously slow and arty.... But for the first time, [Merritt's] lethargic croak also emits a few degrees of human warmth. [May 2004, p.124]

The music is by turns atmospheric, quirky and joyous. [Aug/Sep 2001, p.126]

An accessible art-punk collection. [Apr/May 2002, p.112]

The Kings sound huger, less moonshine-slurry, even more romantic.

Their 14th studio album is a fierce nostalgia­fest full of cascading jangle, candied power chords, lonesome harmonies, Southern-gothic protest poetry and roundhouse drum bash.

Since avant-punk often has more “limits” than its creators recognize, respect and then some to No Age for keeping theirs interesting.

The Darkness play old-fashioned metal with such elan that at times they ascend to pop music's Olympian heights. [Nov 2003, p.110]

May demand close listening compared to the boisterous immediacy of most dance efforts, but it proves utterly entrancing. [#10, p.120]

The group's unreconstructed P-funk would sound tired were it not so irresistibly spry. [May 2006, p.105]

Arcade Fire never babbled about “horse-shaped fire/Draggin’ stereo wire.” These guys make it seem like an Olympic sport.

Glorious, distorted drill-press guitar riffs. [#13, p.103]

Muscially adventurous and fun. [Nov 2003, p.114]

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]

Simon wasn't born to sing over drum & bass. [Jun 2006, p.148]

Will Gregory’s sparkling webs of acoustic guitar, synth and strings allow the more slender melodies to slide into vaporous prettiness, but Goldfrapp’s voice remains extraordinary, as witchily sensual as Kate Bush’s, as otherworldly as a theremin.

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

The mood is so uniformly droopy it seems to be affecting Wainwright's drowsier-than-ever vocals. [Jan/Feb 2005, p.113]