Exquisite Corpse does little to expand upon Daedelus’ aesthetic; it does, however, explore the hip-hop direction that he’s been moving towards in his collaborative work more thoroughly than any of his previous efforts.

It’s Interpol drinking with the Stratford 4 while doing their best Catherine Wheel impression.

While there's merit to the charges that songs suffer from sameness and that musicianship is a secondary facet of the band, the Girls' detractors don't consider tradition; walking in the footprints of Bikini Kill, Ramones, and other like predecessors who faced similar criticisms, their flaws serve to be their most interesting, differentiating features.

An incredible pop record whose lyrics take a backset to the music.

So if some of the songs sound a little too catchy, it’s because they’re supposed to. Kweli’s trying to draw you in for something important.

Despite the variety of acts on the disc, the songs are surprisingly uniform in structure: stripped down to Beck's vocals (which are left intact) and rebuilt with a drum machine set to either "monotonous" or "uninspired."

There is experimentation for the sake of experimentation and experimentation for sake of enjoyment. Money, unfortunately, is mostly the former.

So here we are, with the record Shimura smartly did not title Same Shit, Five Years Later…, because that would've made it slightly easier to tell he's stuck in his own brain.

They are not so much copycats as they are skilled apprentices.

Chase This Light's would-be killer singles make for enjoyable listening, but taken as a whole it feels uninspired for a band known for its ambition.

Even with a couple of clunkers, “Adventures in the Underground Journey to The Stars is without question South’s best effort to date simply because it has done more to command the listener’s attention.

Places Like This is right up there with the year's best madcap adventures into dance and rock.

Packed with emotion and feeling, in Eyes At Half Mast Talkdemonic have issued a powerful statement of beauty.

For the better part of an hour, the trio's experimental pop melodies create their own breeze that, in a very Zen-like manner, becomes one with the surroundings of the listener.

The Cost is an emotional trip worth taking, one that seems to move further inward in its focus and insight with each track.

Skipping over a few songs, such as "When Butterflies Leave" and "Whispers From A Spiritual Garden" — because who wants to hear spiritual babbling when Islam can sing so diatonically correct — the album flourishes into a masterpiece of sincerity to its core.

A Weekend in the City showcases what all the band's initial buzz was about, but twists and filters what might have been expected, leaving them open to praise for different reasons.

While indie purists might resent Bianchi's one-eighty, it shouldn't be regarded as a betrayal, but rather as escapist fun.

The end result is a rewarding record fraught with introspection and melancholy but also one that perhaps signifies that Moby's shaken off his early 90's sentimentality...for now.

Sex Change makes for an interesting listen and most certainly marks a milestone in the band's discography.

The songs were full of meaning and memories.

I can count three sure hits on this club-crossover coup if radio plays it right.

Too familiar, too gloomy and too bland.

The music is jovial and upbeat, yet utterly simplistic.

Fail[s] to constantly engage the listener.

There is a feeling of being sucked into a mid-90s vortex here.

An album to which listening compares to watching The Break-up or The Last Kiss.

For the most part Dave Gahan has a lot of catching up to do after his lackluster solo debut, and Hourglass, while an improvement, will likely suffer from the continued fallout of "Paper Monsters."