The oompah-oompah music-hall bounce, jolly sing-along tunes and attitude of playful whimsy haven't changed. [Jul 2007, p.116]

Aside from their outsider appeal, Join the Dots proves that the Cure's other trump card was Smith's misery-drenched knack for gleaming pop melodies. [Mar 2004, p.138]

Sadly, Sneak Attack also reflects the influence of Professor One's recent ubiquity on the college-lecture circuit; windy speechifying interludes take up a third of the record. Too bad -- when he does rap, he shows twice the gusto of many rappers half his age. [Jun/Jul 2001, p.112]

For [O'Connor] to record a full reggae set, covering each song exactly like the original, rivals Gus Van Sant's odd shot-for-shot remake of Hitchcock's Psycho. [Oct 2005, p.141]

At times you wish Branch and Harp would dig deeper. [Jun 2006, p.149]

Amid the frenzied melancholy, there’s filler and a histrionic misstep or two, but for those willfully lost in the perpetual adolescence Smith has always documented, here’s the new soundtrack to Saturday night.

Coherence dissolves over the album's spawl of 72 minutes and 16 songs. Barnhart can still be quietly metaphysical now and then, yet too often he settles for a less lovable tie-dyed legacy: cutsiness. [Oct 2007, p.106]

As limp as a broken guitar string. [Oct 2004, p.114]

A surprising return to form. [Feb/Mar 2002, p.114]

Labored production isn’t the only problem.

The album's an impossible mess, but so lively that it's worth sifting through the shrapnel for the tasty bits. [May 2006, p.106]

Half of their new truckload feels typically phoned-in. But sometimes they surprise you, nailing the signature sounds of their '70s boogie-metal brethren. [Nov 2008, p.72]

There are no future standards, but no sugary returns to childhood, either. [May 2004, p.124]

Rae's music sticks in your mind like a pleasant scent you wish would linger. [Jun 2006, p.143]

Julian Raymond's production gives the good-timey guitar-and-bajo sound a sharp kick in the butt. [Sep 2008, p.78]

Happily, [their] dogged consistency works in their favor. [Jul 2005, p.117]

Hearing "Cactus" and "Subbacultcha" transformed into droning ambient jazz is upsetting, yet somehow perfect for this listen-once-and-destroy disc. [Dec 2004, p.134]

The bonus disc of dance remixes merely piles another layer of fastidiousness atop the already epically fussed-over tracks. [2007 Aug, p.120]

The Clan's lyricists remain as aggressively word-drunk as ever, balancing the music's pop conciseness with oblique rhymes that compel repeated listening. [Feb/Mar 2002, p.116]

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

You've heard it all before--at least twice. [#10, p.128]

Similar inventiveness [to that on debut album 'Vertigo'] has been markedly absent from the London duo's subsequent work, and sadly, Lovebox continues the trend. [#14, p.136]

On their fifth album, they crack the window, slow the motor (except on 'Shopping Bag,' a jazz-punk binge and purge) and take side trips into primeval glades where runic rites are conducted on acoustic guitars.

A vehement kiss-off to California's Central Valley. [Nov 2005, p.136]

The album is often duller than its predecessors, with bummed-out banalities repeated from previous records; at times, she seems to be dragging herself through her own songs.

Her woodwind-like voice and lucid sensiblity are hardly weird, but Andrews pushes her toward a dreamy and daring edge. [Apr 2005, p.117]

The bigger the gamble, the stronger she feels. By the end of the record, she’s lassoing the moon, getting through her loneliness the way she got past teen pop: by sheer force of will.

Enough human warmth sneaks through to make this second album exciting and affecting. [Nov 2005, p.133]