Their songiest record in more than a decade. [Jun 2006, p.145]

It’s Blitz! is the sound of a band reborn with new momentum, and on an album that requires dancing, the message is clear: It doesn’t matter where you came from. Just keep moving.

Never anything less than enthralling. [Sep 2003, p.121]

Listening to these tales of failing relationships feels like eavesdropping, but it's irresistible. [Sep 2004, p.136]

One of Vega's best. [Oct/Nov 2001, p.114]

If the White Stripes gave up blues-rock for steroids, acid and death metal, they might sound something like this. [Apr 2003, p.124]

Tempering futurism with retro-rap here, [Timbaland and Missy] feed the old through the new and refresh both. [#12, p.142]

Beyond Green’s wriggly, giggly, purring-to-screaming magnificence (as well as two smoking support vocals by young acolyte Anthony Hamilton), this is an album of intricate groove.

She balances her freakiness by matching her sublime chirp with grounded glories. [Jan/Feb 2006, p.93]

Andersson’s lyrics are often tricky to make out--can she really be singing, “We talk about love/We talk about dishwasher tablets”?—but almost every song incorporates shrewd production details, like the clog-dance percussion that kicks 'I’m Not Done' forward.

When a guitar hero abandons guitar, it can be because he's bored or because he's a provocateur, or, in the case of Jack White, likely both. But he pulls it off. [Jul 2005, p.113]

Surprisingly pedestrian. [Nov 2005, p.134]

Xavier de Rosnay and Gaspard Augé employ everything from ominous Christian iconography to slick future sounds to prop up their aura of overarching coolness.

Gleams with emotion. [Apr 2005, p.113]

Some of her material still has an emotional earnestness that would make Bono blush. [#16, p.121]

If their ultraviolet jams can sometimes get lost in the gaze, here they're balanced with more crisp songcraft. [Aug 2006, p.107]

Anyone who's enjoyed its predecessor may not find the follow-up effort entirely essential. [#12, p.145]

Two long, draggy pieces near the end of The Private Press are its only intimations of mortality. [Jun/Jul 2002, p.102]

Bright Lights isn't a trudging soundtrack to depression; it's laced with upbeat, albeit bittersweet, songwriting. [#9, p.148]

The music's intellectualism obscures as many truths as it unveils. [Mar 2007, p.130]

It plods before revealing its considerable sonic luxuries and melodic charms. [May 2006, p.105]

These 12 songs... cleave to the theme of hope-is-all-we-have, while stopping short of an unnecessary, pat moral. [Jun 2005, p.116]

They're not just churning out electro-scuz-soaked romps, they're reclaiming music's right to drop the verse-chorus form, set out on weird five-minute electronic benders and end up somewhere strange and exciting. [Oct 2008, p.80]

The songs are sincere without sappiness and orchestral without bombast. [Apr 2005, p.125]

It sounds half-heard no matter how many times you hear it. [Sep 2006, p.142]

A fierce, arty mix of melody and brute clatter. [Jun 2006, p.141]

Introducing some very welcome rock rhythms to his blend of folk and fingerpicked Delta blues, Ward’s disarmingly sweet fourth album squeezes big themes into modest but bewitching tunes.

[It] sounds fantastic--partly because the production nails sample-ready '60s soul right down to the drum sound' and partly because Winehouse is one hell of an impressive singer. [Apr 2007, p.121]