All in all it's not the noise rush we were craving - and no, it's not as good as Source Tags - but did anyone really think it could be?

The album feels underwhelming.

For the most part, Outside Closer fails to separate itself from the pack of glitch-rock albums it now must share the market with.

As you're listening, the songs begin to sound more and more like play-acting, as if Malin's trying to sound like his heroes more than he's trying to create anything that's all his own.

The tunes hop as often as they whimper, with stand-up bass, slap-happy drums and wordless vocals fleshing out the reverb-rich arrangements.

The production is crisp and idiosyncratic as usual, but many of the songs fade into the background.

Otto Spooky is designed not so much to be enjoyed as to be a spectacle.

It's endearingly all over the place, but depressingly self-referential.

This is an ambitious album that aims high but falls short.

When the compositions behind the words are as dull and lifeless as the album's core ("This Bum's Paid" and "Hair Dude, You're Stepping on my Mystique") the results are utterly disastrous, relying too heavily on tried dissonance over unimpressively staid tempos.

To be sure, there is nothing on Often Lie that is revolutionary - for the most part Dalley delivers straight ahead power pop.

Does it replace the originals as the definitive Gang of Four collection? No way.

Because every note is perfectly placed, and the contemplative mood sustained throughout, it's hard to notice the lack of originality and occasionally pedestrian songwriting.

It's funny and smart and a little annoying in large doses.

Two tracks focusing on guest vocalists are stand-outs.... The other eight songs are more hit-and-miss, often depending on whether Bip's headed toward rock (the blah "Eyelashings," which sounds like a mediocre U2 song, without vocals or a chorus) or hip-hop ("The Move," a nice piece of synthesizer and vibraphone chemistry).

Forget Tomorrow is a record of two exceptional ideas that would sound better as separate records.

Resilience is laid-back Kid 606.

As a bridge over the analog/digital divide, Chapel's a bit behind the curve. But, when they hit their marks, Weatherall and Tenniswood's versatility shines through.

With more room to breathe, the textured synthesizers come to the fore, and it is their melodic decoration that ultimately provides the saving grace. But without the electronic textures, Love and Distance is just Bryan Adams with a hip producer and a great drummer.

The sound, which blends a little of the pastoral, John Fahey-influenced digital music with calm, focused songwriting, gives a sense of romance to a fairly limited musical vocabulary.

Whiskey Tango Ghosts is a quiet meditative listen, yes, but those who haven't followed Donnelly's career trajectory closely may find it difficult to reconcile the contrast between her old and new selves.

Labeling Again as entirely derivative would be inaccurate, as Tan folds flourishes of dub and krautrock into a lascivious mix of after-hours cool.

Here we get the full range of peaks and valleys from Martina's vocals, but the songs are a bit syrupy for those prepared for the menace of Maxinquaye-era Tricky.

It all recalls a traveling Klezmer troupe, unsure of its audience, warming up with tributes to "Schindler's List", "For Whom the Bell Tolls", and "The Godfather", while waiting to find out if they're playing a festival or a funeral.

Where Corpse works, it's merely a repeat of past successes. The few tentative steps into unfamiliar territory are marked failures.

You're a Woman, I'm a Machine might be the best party record on this side of '79 that your local abandoned warehouse has ever seen.

Much of the record lands solidly in novelty territory.

Plays mostly as a digest of fairly enjoyable if not particularly memorable shaggy-haired rockers in the Kinks or Small Faces mold with little material to rival Sunshine's radiant highs.