You may say, with all its funky breaks and organ spells, that The Mix-Up is the last album you’d expect the Beastie Boys to make; but really, it could’ve been the first.

No, this is the real shit--classic lightning riffage, hearkening dub rhythms, and a perfectly insane H.R. and Co. following the great spirit to hardcore heaven

The lyrical chops are intact but the production is far too dated.

Testing

This is hardly some bog standard run-through of Dylan classics. [#25, p.102]

The baroque lyrics on "Light to Follow" prove to be one of the album's defiantly interesting moments, but these are too scattered to offer much new to the casual listener.

It's still rebellion without destination. [#25, p.89]

A proudly odd hybrid always on the edge of destruction. [#25, p.104]

The songs are almost too precious, demanding total attention to appreciate the subtle fluctuations in texture and tone. [#25, p.102]

While Boxer lacks a knockout punch like last album’s 13th round uppercut “Mr. November,” all scorecards still have the National besting David Berman to remain indie rock’s “Great White Mope.”

They make heavy duty sound collages that rock, roll, and exemplify the increasingly small chasm between bliss and confusion. [#25, p.90]

The Massachusetts trio's newfound love of meandering atmospherics plays like a Broken Social Scene doppelganger dozing off in its own sonic wanderings.

Beck-ish vocals kick through the facade of slow and steady rhythmic pacing to reveal an emotional potency hiding behind the often formulaic hum of Handsome Furs.

If only there were tunes to back up the sounds, styles and references. [#25, p.92]

A record that leaves the listener teary-eyed, standing and utterly, breathlessly inspired. [#25, p.92]

Wilco has constructed their most straightforward release in recent memory, which relies heavily on the inspired intricacies of a full-hearted band.

In comparison to... Ta Det Lungt, Tio Bitar trades much of the immediacy for multi-dimensional empiricism and fringe atmosphere. [#25, p.98]

What was once enjoyable as a one-off now seems forced. [#25, p.89]

You have not only a Bjork that's fun again, but an album that is simultaneously politically charged, esoteric and glossy with mainstream appeal. [#25, p.88]

This is a new Clientele--very similar to the old; just happier, brighter and, yes, better. [#25, p.98]

Warmer than previous efforts. [#25, p.102]

Much more organic and live. [#25, p.100]

New Moon is Smith at his musical best: quiet, humble, and most of all, honest. [#25, p.96]

The Boy With No Name instantly gets Travis back to the business of being Travis. [#25, p.102]

You can call it emo or you can call it hip-hop, but you have to call it some kind of wonderful. [#25, p.94]

Imagine a keyboard-loving European version of Black Rebel Motorcycle Club. [#25, p.94]

Fey, agonized chamber pop at its most tortuously fetching. [#25, p.90]

Baby 81 is the offspring of all three albums. [#25, p.96]