There's no great leap into maturity... They've kept their salient feature--scorching, adolescent tantrums--unchanged. [Jun 2007, p.109]

The songs have as much personality as ever, reviving bygone styles, from falsetto lite-funk to electro proto-rap, with goofball energy and a music geek’s careful ear.

When Ville lets loose a rare scream on 'Love in Cold Blood,' it's a downer. Dude: We know you've come to suck our blood, but at least have the courtesy to romance us first! [Oct 2007, p.110]

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

This orderly collection of messy leftovers suits his disheveled talents. [Nov 2006, p.137]

Despite all the players, these lush songs are transitory, not bombastic or cluttered. [Dec 08/Jan 09, p.78]

More mature, more focused, and a little less fun. [Mar 2004, p.115]

Kelly's true genius is the metaphor-laden sex jam, and Double Up has some great ones. [Jul 2007, p.115]

Feverish and bruised, dense as chowder, the songs describe danger and alienation in distressed voices. [May 2004, p.128]

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

[Case] settles into a relaxed dive-bar groove. [Nov 2004, p.130]

They follow measured guitar burn with bone-rattling explosions, and roll mesmerizing tension into colossal release. [#14, p.138]

A rare case of one step back, two steps forward. [Nov 2006, p.144]

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.

South won't win any prizes for originality, but their songwriting is endearing enough to mask the stink of opportunistic career change. [Nov 2003, p.121]

Full of the sort of twitchy New Wave pop that really gets the hipsters' hips a-shaking. [Jun/Jul 2004, p.148]

Brainy, brooding, classically "indie" guitar music. [#16, p.121]

Lambert has a strong voice, if not an exceptionally pretty one, and it suits her badass hell-raising much better than it does quiet laments like "Desperation." [May 2007, p.107]

From the AC/DC-guitar rips of 'So Hott,' the first single, to the tongue-piercing snare of the title song, the album revels in the physicality of rock & roll.

The band sometimes flails ineffectually, but more often it stays streamlined and urgent. [Jun 2005, p.109]

An album this pretty can make you believe in romantic spells lasting beyond first semester.

With so many hip people in the studio, it's no wonder Echoes sounds like such a party. [Nov 2003, p.119]

The quartet throws itself into these vintage gestures with so much verve and dumb-fun exuberance that the songs, even with their simplistic, catchphrase lyrics, are hard to resist.

Pernice's neuroses sound as compelling as ever. [Jul 2005, p.121]

Scary. And at times, scary good. [Nov 2008, p.73]

The sonic and theatrical muscle it takes to project to 50,000 people who've paid to see another band adds a sense iof purpose that can't transfigure the superb material but does give the music its own charater. [Nov 2008, p.81]

On this sublime set, Case's own sweeping, backwoods melodies and bloodstained Southern Gothic lyrics finally match the drama of her wails. [Apr 2006, p.111]

Even the most hardcore riddims here percolate with moments of silky soul, pop and gospel. [Aug 2004, p.128]