The subtle, heartfelt results may not help them shed the "emo" tag, but should propel them beyond cult status. [Apr/May 2002, p.116]

Buck ingeniously borrows from dub, metal and country to capture his characters' woozy worlds. [Mar 2005, p.137]

His fire-and-brimstone confessionals are as complex as they are venomous. [Mar 2005, p.140]

Where his earlier music was a parade of bright primary colors, these plaintive melodies come in delicious shades of gray. [Oct 2006, p.138]

Filled with ambitious production and winsome nostalgia, Saturdays is an otherworldly chronicle of adolescence only a starry-eyed 20-something could make.

If the comfy, mostly acoustic, fiddle-inflected tunes are pure Nashville craft, the lyrics speak bluntly about personal dislocation and loneliness. [May 2004, p.119]

The pie-in-the-sky ambitions may be a little much, but credit Franti for dreaming up a kinder, gentler new world order. [Sep 2003, p.122]

Lauper hasn’t sounded this relevant since her 1983 debut, when she celebrated female masturbation.

With music that evokes cheesy early-’70s MOR and the modern Hollywood-hipster songbook invented by Beck, this is pop that gets out and moves, and has you rooting for the wallflower with the yawny voice to do the same.

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

At times, the writing feels almost too weightless. But repeat listening makes these songs reliably addictive. [Oct 2005, p.133]

A daring and triumphant concoction. [#27, p.140]

This dense noise assault may not sustain the feeling of ecstasy from beginning to end, but its percolating trance rhythms... and captivating space experiments... connect on a visceral level that's rare in the cerebral world of electronic music. [Jun 2005, p.109]

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

The arrangements are lean but wonderfully evocative... while Chapman's lyrics remain memorable and affecting. [Oct 2005, p.136]

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

The result is unkempt and challenging, but it works. [Jan/Feb 2005, p.109]

Denser and more scuzzed-up than Fallen, the album amps everything up to gloriously epic, over-the-top proportions. [Oct 2006, p.129]

Compared with the Pixies, this is conservative and gentlemanly. [Aug 2005, p.109]

Too bad about the self-important, chanted lyrics, which rattle on even when the band's trying to stretch out and groove. [Apr 2007, p.110]

More proof of RZA's eccentric genius. [Dec 2003, p.146]

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

The craziest moment on this debut LP is 'Fucked Up,' where they beg to have their pussies eaten one second, their teeth smashed the next.

There's nothing here that sticks to the ribs very long. [#17, p.136]

For computer music, it's all astoundingly warm. [Apr 2004, p.139]

Pink is their fastest, most instantly gratifying album.

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.

None of the album rocks, or gets particularly rootsy. [July 2008, p.72]