A sensational album by a band willing to take risks, Both Lights offers an exhilarating glimpse at pop music's future. [#86, p.52]

Pond manages to use just about every trick in the psych-rock playbook to create energetic, borderline-unstable earworms that bury themselves deep in your brain for days. [No. 101, p.59]

This is a lovely, bittersweet and nuanced album. [No. 95, p.59]

It's a weirdness that works. [No. 111, p.53]

Bazan's ability to write compelling, catchy tunes remains intact. [#68, p.100]

Building considerably on the subtle expansion of 2006's "Bring It Back," the powerhouse Re-Arrange Us is both natural progression and quantum leap. [Summer 2008, p.107]

This new one sounds happily like a distillation of the best of Slowdive. The effects--and the effects pedals--are still dreamy. [No. 143, p.61]

While every cut is identifiably Spoon and the album will satisfy hard-line fans of the band, a fiery R&B element is now a significant component. [#55, p.88]

Slow Focus finds them instituting a newfound affinity for broken, off-kilter beats, alongside their now-signature knack for teasing irresistible melodies out of chaotic, discordant noise. [No. 101, p.54]

Ewan Pearson's productions certainly bang, shimmer and simmer resplendently as called for-- but these are hardly the pro forma femmepowerment anthems it might suggest. [No. 150, p.59]

Serene, synthetic drones and sparse, resonate bass give the music body, and enthusiastically applied echo makes these instrumentals as dizzying as a vintage Lee Perry mix. [No. 98, p.58]

Unknown Mortal Orchestra's sophomore effort is marked by a certain familiar mystique that does well to recall the charisma and dazzling psychedelia of its predecessor. [No. 95, p.59]

The songs are mostly concise, ranging from less than two minutes to more than seven, but their motorik propulsion and detailed, gradual builds add more subtle rewards beneath synth-pop immediacy. [No. 101, p.55]

Though the quieter moments are choice tests in eerie tension, the Melvins work best in straight rock 'n'roll, especially on the album's highlight: an utterly badass cover of Wings' "Let Me Roll It." [No.88 p.57]

The band lives up to its rep as a tight live act. [#86, p.53]

Cupid Deluxe paints him as a producer and songwriter with massive potential that's only just begun to be realized. [No. 105, p.52]

The alterations and differences may be slighter and more comparable to alt-music's lexicon, but that's bound to happen after a decade and a half. Still, the redefinition continues, and so does the compelling art. [No. 108, p.51]

Songs Cycled completes Parks' transformation from oddball torchbearer to full-on musical time capsule. [No. 101, p.59]

A howling, blustery, white-knuckle ride that is nothing less than astounding. [No. 119, p.59]

This Machine Kills Artists is definitely lengthier than need be, but if this album has an intended accomplishment, it's further illustrating the expanding range of Osborne's songwriting abilities. [No. 110, p.59]

Hunter applies her vampiest vocals yet, and it's a natural match. [No. 119, p.59]

The zigzagging, liquid bass is the most surprising thing on a record you expect no surprises from. [No. 112, p.61]

There's more to Cheatahs than throwback sonics, though it takes a few listens to really catch the complex melodies and structures in the album's strongest cuts. [No. 106, p.53]

Much of Smoke Fairies is the sound of a band embracing fatter orchestration and fuller arrangements on virtually every cut. [No. 110, p.61]

The quartet has reached puberty on its second album, which sees the band embracing awkward teen angst a la Winona Ryder's character in Beatlejuice. [No. 96, p.61]

A few songs flop... but the overall is a fitting celebration of the Chieftain's 50 years of music. [No. 85, p. 53]

He cranks up the palm-muted and Edge-delayed guitars for an eight-song chaser, that, again, miraculously never fades into stasis. [No. 108, p.61]

Exister may still press a heavy thumb on the melodic rock end of the scale... but enough Caution-era magic is recaptured for us to welcome these new transmissions from Radio Free Gainesville. [No.88 p.56]

A mix of ping-ponging bangers ("Hi," "Born To Suffer"), touching, presumed-true stories ("Joey's Song," "The Oldness") and two skip-now shockers dedicated to monstrous worthlessness ("I Luv Abortion," "Black Drum Machine") [No.86, p.60]

The album's first half explores the same musical territories as Nocturne--the chiming euphony of a hundred things happening at once, the guileless melodic patterns that wander up the scale and back--but it does so in lifted fog. [No. 92, p.59]

The music's effortless grace contradicts the experiences f temporal and cultural unease that Elkington sings about in ways that'll keep the listener guessing and the record spinning. [No. 144, p.55]

Languid and sometimes lagging, [a] sensual 47-minute set. [No. 92, p.52]

Don't expect anything more earth-shattering than pleasantly folky indie-pop with a mild rootsy lilt. If that's your bag, though, don't lose out on this one. [No. 131, p.55]

Save for the slightly teary 90-second trudge of "The Real Wilderness," it's a rollicking pummel throughout. [No. 121, p.58]

Tune in, turn on, and keep it fresh. [No. 149, p.53]

Even when you can't quite tell whether you want to laugh with or at Morrissey's heavy-handed proclamations, they're provocative, and that's worth a lot. [No. 149, p.51]

The band reemerges from the California desert four years later with a self-titled sophomore effort that's every bit as satisfying as its predecessor. [No. 106, p.60]

The music's trickiness never seems gratuitous, though, because the changes in direction correspond to a lyrical stance that articulates the struggle to figure out what's constant in a world of change. [No. 131, p.59]

Blind Spot sounds like the band hasn't missed a step since 1998. [No. 131, p.59]

At times, the offering is inviting on the surface, but becomes a bit antiseptic or flattened once you actually get inside. [No. 98, p.53]

It's easily Emerald's least utilitarian album yet. [No. 94, p.53]

She didn’t play nice and didn’t take kindly to notions of acting “ladylike,” and Full Circle is her victory lap. [No. 129, p.57]

The potential showed on Explore is evidence that GRMLN still has more to say. [No.94, p.55]

Circulatory System is once again a soft pharmaceutical machine on Mosaics. [No. 110, p.53]

The Memphis ambassadors display strength after songwriting strength. [No. 124, p.59]

It's a mesmerizing and haunting labyrinth filled with morbid storytelling, hurdling tempos and rhythms that would perfectly soundtrack a meaningful coastal or cross-country road trip. [No. 149, p.61]

While they haven't really changed up their formula on this second LP, they have gotten exponentially better at brewing it up. [#82, p.59]

It's an interesting experience and definitely an entertaining listen, even if you'll have no clue what you're listening to half the time. [No. 94, p.57]

This is stark music for rock adults--pure and simple. [No. 107, p.61]

Occasionally cliched and often anthemic, this is an old-fashioned populist rock record that grows steadily with repeated listening. [No.89 p.53]

The hooks don't let up, the instrumentation provides the kind of sly surprise a pop listener wants from a three-minute gem, and the vocals have just enough grit to convey a darker lyrical tone. [No.87 p.59]

While not as immediate a confection as past releases Ad Infinitum is Telekinesis' Golden Record. [No. 124, p.61]

Toth's spare lines still keep you listening and wondering, reeling you in to music that starts out gently lyrical and ends up as immersive as the sea. [No. 142, p.61]

On the whole, this is the fuzz-popping, party-starting, pan-galactic prescription you forgot to remember you were waiting for. [No. 94, p.58]

A pleasant surprise. [No. 136, p.56]

Here guitarist Dante Schwebel cedes more space [than on past albums] to Abraham Villanueva's dense beds of keys, bringing a fuller, more textured sound that makes a big hooks even bigger. [No.89 p.55]

Ruminations doesn't set out to be a grand statement, but it's all the more rewarding for keeping the focus on Oberst's word-rich language and emotionally direct observations. [No. 136, p.59]

The songs are as dense and atmospheric as we've come to expect. [No. 126, p.55]

The album, recorded mostly in one or two takes, reaches a deft balance of Simone's rich jazz settings and Xiu Xiu's avant-garde expulsions. [No. 105, p.61]

You can feel Bridwell's effort, while Beam's casual understatement is entrancing. [No. 122, p.51]

Love Is The Devil draws more obviously from film music, creating a moving, mostly instrumental platter loaded with evocative drones and coarse textures. [No.99, p.55]

The rather unimaginative song selection is enlivened by inventive medleys, stylistic reinterpretations, and playfully arranged instrumentals. [No.89 p.55]

An airbrushed return to the imagination hinterlands of an expressive impressionist. [No. 126, p.57]

The merger breathes welcome new life into both of their glorified shticks, though Brown will likely have serve a stint at the Keith Moon Memorial Flailing Rock Re-Education Camp before the Turks next reconvene. [No.91, p.53]

Even more than on its two earlier LPs, Rhyton knows where it's going. Each piece zeros in on a particular mood. [No. 116, p.59]

The stark, live rendering at Oran Mor reveals the quiet beauty and strength these songs possessed all along. [No. 126, p.61]

Morning Phase is ultimately a mood piece: a quiet triumph of feeling over form. [No. 107, p.51]

Simmons can write lengthy tomes, but Sylvie shows she's also adept at paring her words to simple truths. [No. 116, p.61]

Acoustic proves, once and for all, that BOH really is just a straight-up folk/rock band--and a pretty great one, too. [No. 107, p.53]

The real pleasure is the instigation to sit through and hear JPSE go through the good, the bad and the near misses of a career that took the band from a light-hearted party outfit with an ingratiating delicate side in Christchurch, New Zealand, to game, but stressed-out grunts trying to flog big, catchy hooks that should have caught on with the Yo La Tengo and My Bloody Valentine crowds (yet never did). [No. 122, p.56]

The distorted, shimmering sound world proposed by My Bloody Valentine's Loveless and perfected on Fennesz's Endless Summer is used here as a gorgeous facade behind which endless layers of processed guitars recede like ocean waves reaching for the horizon. [No. 133, p.55]

Wild Things does its darndest to plug the electro-dance ice-pop void left by La Roux's sophomore let-down and the absence of new Robyn, Annie And Dragonette albums. [No. 133, p.57]

These 15 instrumental tracks come across as half exorcism, half jam session, but the result fits pretty well in line with everything they've done in their other bands. [No. 107, p.58]

Rogue Wave's fifth album features a handful of its best tunes yet. [No.99, p.59]

A neat, consistently solid 34-minute record unconcerned with peaking or hits. [No.99, p.61]

Repeated spins reveal an exotic, intoxicating soup. [No. 146, p.61]

The Rezillos have lost little in terms of sweaty, cranky boogie-rock fervor that they and the Cramps helped put on the map. [No. 118, p.61]

For all the aesthetic hopscotching, Ripe 4 Luv never falls off its sharp, catchy axis. [No. 118, p.61]

There is much to admire in the trademark plaintiveness and honesty on his seventh album. [No. 96, p.59]

Death Song isn't a wild step in any new direction but instead a grindstone-polished showcase of what the group does best. [No.142, p.52]

On A Raw Youth, Le Butcherettes find the perfect balance of oddball ideas and actual hooks, creating a heavy, sweaty avant-rock hybrid that's as catchy as it is bewitching. [No. 124, p.59]

Anxiety is the rare electro-pop album that's wholly synthetic, but plays without a hint of icy artificiality. [No. 96, p.53]

Very clearly the work of art-school kids who use their skills for creating alluring visuals to craft equally enticing music. [No. 85, p.56]

Karlsson and Winnberg's focus on gentle, warm sonic tones and catchy hooks should reassure fans of tracks like "Animal" and "Burial" that everything is under control. [No. 85, p.57]

It's all such lovely, elegantly refined stuff that it's easy to sink under the spell of its warm, somnolent glow. [No. 142, p.61]

Folly finds KOD darker and statelier than ever. [No. 104, p.57]

This compelling album is dominated by a spirit of grace and hope. [#81, p. 53]

Let's Cry is at its best when it steps outside of this project's prescribed comfort zones. [No. 115, p.61]

If you want to hear him reconciling the roots of his music with a future he hasn't found yet, this is the next fearless step into the future. [No. 159, p.61]

EZTV's debut is unassuming, and impressively so. [No. 122, p.55]

Feedback is the duct tape that holds it all together. There might be a little dirt on it, but it's still good. [No. 124, p.55]

The real draws here are the stunning fresh takes on some of the finest works to be found in the Antony & The Johnsons catalog. [No.90, p.52]

Wolfroy goes to Town is a meditative and sparse collection, and much of it continues the same train thought at work in the "There is no God" b/w "God is Love" single. [#82, p. 52]

The accomplishment is immaculate, but what's harder to sort out is where the real Kelley Stoltz stands. [No. 147, p.61]

With Anything Could Happen, Stinson not only shows that Bash & Pop 2.0 has potential staying power but also that he's worthy of comparisons to his mentor. [No. 139, p.54]

Body Pill nods briefly to vintage Detroit techno and no-holds-barred house in between stiffly edging out its own ground on the very crowded floor that is contemporary dance music, often on the same track. [No. 117, p.59]

Minus interludes and meandering artsy filler, many of the 11 tracks take fine-grain sandpaper to noise rock's jagged edges. [No. 146, p.57]

While things get a touch unfocused in the final stretch, the Hot Chip chaps are always god for a grandly uplifting closing statement. [No. 115, p.53]