When they open up and truly let go, they achieve states of near euphoria and joyous magnificence. [No. 150, p.56]

These songs are all stripped-down gems by a great performer who's unselfconsciously brave--and moving from strength to strength. [No. 110, p.55]

Simplicity never sounded so sinister. [#49, p.78]

Alix's absence of missteps or variations could be taken as relentless or monotonous--or a couple of pop perfectionists who found what they've been looking for. [No. 114, p.57]

Carousel One is Sexsmithery at its finest. [No. 119, p.59]

After delivering a classic, Superdrag has returned with something just shy of that, but considering the quality here, no one has any right to spew complaints. [#55, p.91]

N.E.W. proves that Death is still ahead of the curve. [No. 120, p.53]

The whole affair has the energy of a younger band, one just starting on its first album rather than an act 30 years old. [No. 99, p.53]

The blend of old and new Ra Ra Riot feels more organic and less forced. [No. 128, p.61]

11 somber-yet-empathetic songs on Rifles & Rosary Beads. [No. 150, p.56]

Ultimately, Olsen shows she can still be gripping, but with a much greater sense of presence. [No. 106, p.57]

It's all, as you've come to expect from the duo, pretty enough and daydream-inspiring on its own. [No. 120, p.53]

Luluc has indie credentials to spare, but all that really matters is that this music is impossibly delicate and deeply beautiful. [No. 112, p.59]

This shimmery psych-rock collective is back with more wah-wah Woodstock jammolas filtered through cathartic chanting, African rhythms and jittery percussion. [No. 114, p.57]

Semicircle touches on elements of the socially aware and a-woke with old-fashioned message-driven songs. [No. 150, p.56]

A tremendous leap forward. [#55, p.77]

Their first album in five years captures the comfortable joy of falling back into sync with old pals. [No. 112, p.61]

Broken Bells' initial salvos may have set their parameters, but After The Disco expands, transcends and redefines them. [No. 106, p.52]

A shockingly vital, crackling, unencumbered solo instrumental record. [No. 120, p.55]

Overall, Going Way Out is much like Heavy Trash’s self-titled 2005 debut, as the duo continues to find ample inspiration from the past.

On fourth album Saturdays=Youth, the warm synthesizers are still in play and Gonzalez’s propensity for beguiling bombast is undiminished, but by imposing structure and melodic discipline on these sprawling compositions, he’s made them even more elegant and effective.

Cameos from pop princess Kimbra and Bloc Party guitarist Russell Lissack are the delicate icing on Mew's richly satisfying prog/pop cake. [No. 120, p.59]

A must-have addition to already almost perfect catalog. [No. 110, p.55]

A set of first-person songs that are ultimately no less earnest or affecting than those on the aforementioned break-up record, albeit more given to colorful insider jargon and particularly inventive physical violence. [No. 119, p.54]

The 13-song set gurgles and gloops with the surreal intensity of a Morricone score revisted by a Bollywood auteur/mixmaster. [#54, p.91]

The music seems to matter, and for the listener, that's welcome relief from indiedom's groveling. [#52, p.82]

Her playing, while technically impressive, may not have quite Stetson's jaw-dropping virtuosity, but her pieces have a highly comparable mesmeric, minimalist intensity. [No. 101, p.58]

Diehards may crab about these more experimental sounds, but it's hard to find fault with the James gang for not only climbing out of its rut, but also leaving it far behind. [#69, p.104]