It stands as not only the most fully realized Portastatic album but as one that ought not be overshadowed by its creator's more well-known outlet. [#59, p.107]

While Cox’s narratives make little sense (much of the time, he’s not even singing so much as wailing wordlessly), the music is surprisingly accessible.

This is a record packed to the rafters. [No. 130, p.58]

An uneasy gamut of emotion imbues another exceptional Mountain Goats effort. [No. 92, p.51]

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

The constant fluidity here makes the album’s unpredictability seem grounded and cohesive instead of erratic.

Finds Wilco switching moods, tones, influences and instruments enough to suggest a band on a pub crawl in search of its winterteeth. [#64, p.112]

This music has been cunningly hand-crafted, despite the album's larger ensemble sound, and at times the songs come off like incantations. [No. 95, p.57]

When their voices blend, moving from two-part to three-part harmonies, the music really takes off. [No. 150, p.55]

The heady combination of orchestral maneuvers, spiritual posturing and drone-imbued psychedelia make this a seductive listening experience. [No. 85, p.56]

The results are both vintage QOTSA and something unnameable at the same time. [No. 146, p.58]

The songs sound fresh and spontaneous, gull of a delicate passion. [No. 137, p.53]

The jaunty-yet-subtle tunes sneak up on you slowly, so you don't notice O'Rourke's corrosively misanthropic lyrics until they're inextricably lodged in your head. [#53, p.86]

There's no shortage of pretty sounds, but it's too easy to drift into the reliable ebb and flow of this album's amniotic dynamic. [No. 98, p.54]

It sounds like a band getting down to business, adjusting its identity to account for downsizing while consolidating its many strengths. [No. 100, p.51]

The emotional gravitas only lends heft to the group's exhilarating, ever-present sugar high. [#74, p.104]

The dramatic new music made by Bobby Womack - a true survivor - is an important listening session for any serious music lover. [No.89, p.60]

The variety of The Weather definitely offers some spice to lives. [No. 142, p.59]

Ray may be dabbling, but she does it well. [No. 106, p.58]

Pollie's sulky tenor is perfectly suited to these tales of heartache and lost affection, with muted backing tracks that intensify the tear-soaked scenarios that bring him solace. [No. 142, p.57]

Packed to the brim with moments of tonal and melodic transcendence. [#86, p.51]

[Lopatin] knows how to integrate plangent tones with somber piano chords to give the title track a plaintive, wistful quality, making sure to throw enough glitch in so that it doesn't get stranded on Windham Hill. [#82, p.59]

The Wilderness maintains the group's signature sound but imbues its widescreen soundscapes with a newfound patience. [No. 130, p.57]

It's a powerhouse collection. [No. 93, p.53]

It isn't very clear what the Rev is trying to get across, if anything at all. But it's a lovely listen all the same. [#51, p.100]

lude tUnE-yArDs’ Merril Garbus, who supplies an urgent, rhythmic vocal from on the spooky and stellar “Little Queen Of New Orleans.” Low Cut Connie teases these flourishes throughout Hi Honey, making for an album that’s both retro-minded and forward-thinking.

Boasting strength, durability and psychic stability on comeback Bloodsports, Suede shows its true dramatic worth on pensive, atmospheric exhibitions. [No. 98, p.57]

Sexsmith doesn't succumb to a single false move or note. [#51, p.112]