Jet frequently manage to turn in the kind of bulgy-veined, streamlined gonzo rock that [Oasis] haven't managed since the mid-90s. [Nov 2003, p.114]

She's a surprisingly convincing country singer. [Sep 2006, p.143]

Panic's cherry-picking yields several good songs, and a few brush up against greatness. [Apr 2008, p.76]

It feels like a record assembled by a focus group. [Oct 2007, p.107]

As groups like Hot Chip and LCD Soundsystem are making analog programs ring clear as Marshall stacks, Williams makes them sound mysterious, creepy and sexy again--even when geeking out on a cover of Bow Wow Wow’s big hit, 'I Want Candy.'

[Has] a relaxed good humor and a genuine feel for the pulse of Western swing. [Apr 2006, p.114]

On her third album, Clarkson finds a Third Way: She makes nice with the pop machine and takes back the mall while keeping her integrity and personality intact.

An utterly original if slightly queasiness-inducing album. [Nov 2003, p.109]

Sometimes the music can feel as cold and clinical as Kraftwerk, but even then, the lyrics emote wildly. [Jun/Jul 2002, p.106]

Miller ups the melodic ante, staking his claim to becoming his generation's answer to Nick Lowe or Marshall Crenshaw. [#10, p.123]

Some of the brightest three-part harmony singing since Crosby, Stills & Nash first gathered around a mic 30-plus years ago. [#17, p.144]

The rich studio gloss and unmistakable vocal mannerisms she's cultivated over 30 years cover nicely for the weakness of her new material. [Jun/Jul 2001, p.114]

She shows the breadth of her talent and the depth of her sentiment. [Nov 2003, p.118]

Severe... it's hard rock rigorously stripped of frivolity and glamour. [Oct 2004, p.128]

Paired with the Kids’ fidelity to verse/chorus pop, Pryor’s boyishly confident, hopeful delivery can sound pro forma, even mindless.

Recorded in Matt’s childhood bedroom with their trademark teenage palette (a Casiotone, Matt’s nasal whinge and Kim’s bubbly punk beats), their sophomore album plays like the indie-musical version of one of those yesterday-I-was-a-teenager-but-now-I’m magically-an-adult ’80s movies.

If she doesn't follow commercial formulas, she's following creative ones, and selling herself short in the process. [Jun 2005, p.111]

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.

Even at its weepiest, his music, thankfully, stays vivacious. [Apr 2006, p.116]

This is all folded into a weirdly ambitious disco-rock record (Madonna collaborator Stuart Price produced) that occasionally takes on fun topics like desert-motel nooky, but more often gets bogged down in ruminations on Why We’re Here, not to mention What It All Means.

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

The minimalist tracks rate among his best. [May 2006, p.109]

Earth is the sound of a band coming to that inevitable realization: five patrician perfectionists who've resolved to sound sloppy, even (or especially) at the risk of fucking up. [Jan/Feb 2006, p.98]

The crisp acoustic production is too unerringly tasteful... but that's forgiveable. [Mar 2004, p.120]

Here, they simply sound jittery, putting romantic complaints to studio-worked music that's oddly brisk and busy, with a dissonance that drowns out the emotion. [Nov 2008, p.73]

The result is severely mellow, but too sensuous--the basslines thick with libidinal tug, the vocals steeped in contented, coital afterglow--to ever get boring.

It's in the quieter moments that Sparta truly shine. [#9, p.154]

His calm articulation and clean beats never waver--where once he copped to vices and joked about dirty asses, now his “naked funk” is all about a craft that won’t quit. That’s impressive. But it’s also limited.