His band remains unsubtly one-dimensional... but Shaddix funnels a newfound sensitivity into gashing, coarsely melodic emo-metal that aches as much as it breaks. [Oct 2004, p.126]

This is an indie rocker introducing great disco to a bunch of beer drinkers. [Nov 2007, p.150]

So while there's no lack of diversity over Shaman's 70-plus minutes, that's also its undoing: it doesn't hang together. [#12, p.152]

The band covers this cerebral terrain with renewed vigor, thanks to a sudden fondness for antique synthesizers and battery-powered drum machines. [Feb/Mar 2002, p.112]

It’s obvious, obnoxious and effective.

Zeitgeist’s orgy of avalanche rhythms, cascading riffs and sky-licking guitar is as grandiose as ever (the solo on "Tarantula" sounds like a nuke hitting a Guitar Center), but the bombast is softened as Corgan reaches out for shame-sharing community.

The problem is not the lumbering, mid-tempo beats or the terrible lyrics (“Synthesizer, crystallizer, realizer”), although neither help. It’s the sense that you’ve heard every synthesized squelch and ambient breakdown before.

Their youthful gusto is admirable. The results, alas, are not. [#14, p.141]

The Used remain best when dripping with sweat, not sentiment. [Jun 2007, p.108]

Sonically, it's a tour de force.... But the success of this record depends on Johansson and she's not up yo the task. [June 2008, p.73]

Fist delivers a gut punch of awesomely distorted synths and raw, kicks-and-snares percussion....But maintaining a fist-pumping pace can be exhausting.

It's hard to listen to the rest of Britney without imagining what the album would have sounded like had [the Neptunes] produced the whole thing. [#4, p.121]

A whiz-bang jukebox of state-of-the-art West Coast scruff-rock. [May 2003, p.126]

Lurches from dewy-eyed sentimentality to vicious funk. [Oct/Nov 2001, p.105]

His most relentlessly aggressive album yet. [Oct 2003, p.119]

An assured yet curiously unsatisfying shamble. [Apr 2005, p.119]

The songs get lost in waves of wah-wah long before a long, slow fade into random-noise oblivion. [Dec 2005, p.149]

Often, it's too much of a good thing. [Sep 2005, p.137]

There isn't a song on her debut that doesn't paint in huge strokes. [Sep 2004, p.143]

Bunkka proves he can't write songs to save his slipmats. [#8, p.120]

The samey, smothering beats make it inaccessible to anyone without a pacifier in their mouth. [Jan/Feb 2005, p.111]

Stefani gets her groove back when she sticks to two essentials: sex and the Neptunes. [Jan/Feb 2007, p.88]

As self-indulgent side projects go, this could be a whole lot worse. [Apr 2004, p.139]

Glumly generic. [Aug 2003, p.124]

With On and On, Johnson pushes past those folk- and root-distressed interiors and glides into cool new musical areas. [#16, p.122]

The male affinity is so intense, it approaches homoeroticism. [#27, p.138]

Submit to these tongue-in-cheek disco-rock readymades and it's as if you're hearing irony and an ass-kicking backbeat for the very first time. [Mar 2006, p.112]

Impressive at times... The problem isn't style--it's substance. Mraz's songwriting chops leave plenty to be desired. [Aug 2005, p.114]