WFTD occasionally give in to the urge to crank up the fuzz and play straight-up indie rock, but the narrower each song's scope is, the more it feels like it should go on forever. [Oct 2004, p.131]

An amped-up grotesque of torchy vaudeville and European parlor songs that starts as high-concept camp and winds up strangely illuminating. [May 2006, p.105]

Thankfully, Brightblack's mellow mysticism never comes at the expense of a frisky groove. [Jul 2006, p.97]

Dub, metal, Okinawan folk, hip-hop and various strains of out jazz all inflect Blondie’s hooky popcraft, and they never pretend they’re something they’re not, such as young.

Sung in his almost icy, stentorian cry--and outfitted with mega-choruses--the tracks feel as epic as Havok's themes. [Jul 2006, p.97]

With his buddy Josh Homme from Queens of the Stone Age, Hughes gets the details right all over Heart On.

Throughout, atmospheric ennui tugs against upbeat synth-pop--this band is best wehn it's got a beat. [Nov 2008, p.73]

Way too much fun. [Oct 2006, p.130]

She's been kicking around the industry a few years--she cowrote Britney's 'Gimmee More'--but she still comes across as fresh on her long-delayed debut.

This I'm-coming-out record is an unhesitant move from songs of the heart to songs of the groin. [Dec 2003, p.130]

An ambitious, twangy and faintly psychedelic folk-rock set that still may not convince haters he isn't a twerp. [May 2007, p.102]

Coheed have found their sweet spot.

You could roll your eyes and complain that these guys are still pimping teen angst in middle age, but really it sounds more like it’s matured into the longest-running mid-life crisis ever--30 years and counting.

The moody disco on Couples is both sleeker and spookier than the sexed-up indie rock of th Blondes' promising 2006 debut, "Someone to Drive You Home."

The kind of laconic, deceptively laid-back statement that cult heroes Alex Chilton or Doug Sahm might have dashed off in their prime. [#18, p.123]

Like the previous Brazilian Girls records, New York City is a lounge-y pileup of bossa rhythms and Old World romantic ache, girded by slithery push-button funk throb—at once refined and happily trashy.

It's brave, and it's needed. [Jul 2006, p.95]

On Traffic and Weather, their lyrical touch slips. [Apr 2007, p.114]

There's no unnecessary reverence, so the roots move that could have tagged Aerosmith as geezers proves instead that they're still wild boys. [May 2004, p.118]

Auerbach's fat, rocketing riffs are rivaled only by his Delta-dipped drawl. [Oct 2004, p.114]

Finn has been sharper and funnier before, and their fast-and-down-the-middle rock has gotten more experimental, which isn't the same as better. But it's still a pretty good way to spend 45 minutes. [Aug 2008, p.86]

You sense Timms has seen it all. [Oct 2004, p.130]

Manson's music still evokes decay, but he sounds more fertile than ever. [Jul 2007, p.116]

His wisest and warmest record yet. [#27, p.136]

What Hammond... lacks in attitude, he makes up for in old-school pop charm. [Apr 2007, p.111]

Spears’s fifth studio album is her most consistent, a seamlessly entertaining collection of bright, brash electropop.

There's something about the precision of the gear changes and the crisp efficiency of Rob Schnapf's production that hits the spot, however derivatively. [Apr 2004, p.134]

It shows the old ska formula to be an unimprovable invention. [Sep 2005, p.135]