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

This third LP corrals sophomore sprawler Lenses Alien without killing its spirit. [No. 113, p.53]

Bid's disaffected-yet-engaging vocals and slice-of-life lyrics remain compelling as ever. [No. 118, p.59]

Rub still happily rubs listeners the wrong-right way with crass, curt tunes. [No. 125, p.61]

The Singles is as good a starting point as any, as it highlights the diversity that spanned the band's entire career. All the classics are present and accounted for. [No. 144, p.54]

Quasi has finally crafted a studio work that exudes the same whiff of spontaneity that's always been evident in performance. [#61, p.105]

The riffs jump out with their junk out, wave wildly in your face, then leave you with the bill. Yet what's always been generally true of North Carolina's finest denim demons is that they're not afraid to show off their intellect. [No. 99, p.60]

Elegantly crafted and darkly mischievous.

The songs are steeped in anguish and melancholy, distressing meditations on the loss and limitations that are coming to define life for many young people in these uncertain times. [No. 106, p.56]

It's a soul-stirring collection of Real Ramona/University-grade musical mini-masterpieces accompanied by lyrical prose vignettes exuding the same nimble friskiness and wry, subversive brilliance that characterized Hersh's fantastic 2010 memoir Rat Girl. [No. 104, p.58]

It's bright and lovely stuff, but I miss the darkness. [No. 121, p.61]

It's a pleasure to hear him unpacking his toy, stretching out and exploring this new set of voices. [No. 117, p.61]

Newman has pushed his voice to a human place, upon a mantle, as if finally proud of the boys. Good show. [No.97, p.61]

Its successes just about match its failures. [#70, p.100]

Uneven. [#73, p.112]

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

A wounded angel of a pop record ono which malice and sorrow are offset by rapturous surges of strings. [#60, p.117]

His deft handling of the pop-song idiom makes even these smaller-scale songs soar. [#64, p.89]

Their winding leads, ghostly shimmers and stacked luminous sound clouds wheel around each other like elegant skywriting maneuvers. [#88, p.54]

Oddly familiar and familiarly odd, Season Hire is a challenging and progressive counterpoint to staid and fallow takes on folk music that have been crapping the airwaves--and our news feeds--in recent years. [No. 118, p.61]

Sorry earned White Lung an audience; on Deep Fantasy, the band commands it. [No. 110, p.61]

The Universe And Me feels like Sprout’s sonic scrapbook and philosophical star chart folded into a single stellar statement. [No.139, p.60]

An impressive mix of high and low art, Local Business is at once outsider, mainstream, universal and massive. [No. 94, p.61]

Okkervil River can deliver terrific songs when ambitions are kept in balance, but this uneven record is in dire need of an editor.

While the current incarnation knows its strengths and weaknesses; Nocturnal Koreans is the latest in a late-career winning streak the band has been on since 2008’s Object 47. [No. 131, p.61]

A looser, more causal and countrified LP than a formal Heartbreakers release, these longtime friends use Mudcrutch to have some fun, jam out and exude a little bit of that old-fashioned Laurel Canyon psyche-twang sound. [No. 132, p.57]

Lyrics ... come off as exceedingly everyday - as well as vital.

Too stylistically diverse, willfully weird and lyrically cryptic to be anything more than an acquired taste. [#68, p.101]