A comfortable but nonetheless adventurous next step for this secretly brilliant band. [No. 131, p.61]

Bettye LaVette is able to tap into the deep, sanctified stream of black-church music to come up with performances that shine with hope, even as she deals with life's more difficult situations. [No.92, p.55]

Seductively strange. [#73, p.98]

A suite-like meditation that is emotionally expressive and impressively nuanced.[No. 86, p.55]

The Dear Hunter might be better served by working in rein in its vast pretensions. [No. 124, p.53]

It's all gorgeous arrangements, soul-wrenching songwriting and heartbreaking stories, inhabiting a space that's both rock and country, indie and folk, without pandering to the lowest common denominator. [No. 96, p.59]

Goldfrapp is the rare dance art-pop band that bleeds artistic integrity without looking back to the '80s for inspiration. [#71, p.98]

The Wasted Years finds Fish polishing his legacy with work resembling what Syd Barrett might've sounded like if his voice was closer to cross-tops than sugar cubes. Revisiting these years is the sound of some of our undergraduate degrees. [No. 148, p.57]

The pair rips through a hard-rockin' 11-song set without messing much beyond the four-minute mark of any track. [No. 93, p.56]

Kinski has probably never rocked this hard. [No. 121, p.57]

Any doubts that the Old 97's could sustain this creative resurgence are summarily dismissed with Graveyard Whistling. [No. 141, p.60]

Merritt is skilled; she just needs to accept that and then actually travel alone into the music. [No. 93, p.57]

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]

Orc is a continuation of the careening energy and creativity that has defined the most recent handful of Oh Sees' record, making it one of the most beastly in the bunch. [No. 146, p.59]

There's much more to this band and album than the throwback aesthetic. [Fall 2007, p.98]

Even in its most somber moments, Birds is all catchy, all the time. [#69, p.108]

The first great album of '99. [March 1999]

Sounds like the soundtrack for a post-apocalyptic street carnival. [#71, p.105]

Impossibly, Rosenberg's artistry still feels mysterious, unknowable, capable of surprise. [No. 147, p.57]

This soggy, after-hours feel also permeates Is A Woman, although the ensemble sound has been pared to the bone. [#53, p.83]

There's a refreshing sense of directness in the sound of the music, which, for all its abundant, unabashed prettiness and orchestral elegance, maintains a stripped-down, unaffectedly human scope. [No. 96, p.59]

The good news is that there's a new burst of energy on the rave-ups. [No. 111, p.59]

The duo [Marc Almond and producer Chris Braide] unspools deliciously theatrical (eerily dark) piano etudes and grand, minor-key mini-epics that are the musical equivalent of an Oscar Wilde work. [No. 118, p.53]

Splinter offers a hammering continuum of some of Gary Numan's most stunning synth rhythms to date. [No. 103, p.59]

After a few tracks, you may find yourself seeking relief with your favorite method of self-obliteration. [No. 105, p.56]

These songs are raw and muscular. [No. 131, p.61]

In guitar lines that are jittery with pop portent, hosting a sharp-witted party for nonbelivers everywhere. [No. 125, p.61]

Led by mercurial crooner Stuart Staples, the current lineup’s grand balladry is more stately and slow-boiled than ever.