As with his solo output, Jose Gonzalez has a clear vision for his music's direction, and he sticks to it with admirably rigorous discipline here, making the majority of Junip more steady than indistinct. [No. 97, p.57]

At the core are lyrics abstract enough to keep you coming back and digging for meaning until the next moles record, however many decades off that might be. [No. 135, p.56]

Superheroes, Ghostvillains & Stuff also shows how the Notwist masterfully blends organic and inorganic textures outside the studio, but it's also a reminder of how adventurous this band can be. [No. 138, p.59]

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

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

Dramatic tension exists throughout, but in ways Explosions fans aren't used to hearing from the band. [No. 102, p.54]

The Horrors seem to have found themselves yet another niche writing the sorts of delectable psychedelic pop jams that are destined to see them crowd festival stages for decades to come. [No. 109, p.57]

While the abundance of previously unreleased rarities make this must-have fare for any self-respecting Pumpkins fan, Aeroplane does little but highlight how far past his prime Corgan is. [No. 102, p.60]

Espinoza and Murray return from a four-year hiatus in fine form. [No. 93, p.54]

If a smokestack tenor spewing a cloud of menagerie is your kind of daydream, the faulty superhero came through once again. [No. 132, p.51]

It's awesome we can hear Merchant's truly lovely vocals and deft songwriting once again. I just wish there were more banjos. [No. 109, p.57]

Playing to previous strengths, the band's third LP shuffles the decks, throwing six-string spiderwebs into spacey, bass-textured atmospheres. [No. 98, p.55]

The result is Animal Collective at its tightest, most coherent and poppiest, even as the band draws on '60s psych/pop, rudimentary techno and three-chord punk to build on its ever-evolving sound. [No. 128, p.53]

It's like 90215-era Yes meeting up with Air and fellow auto enthusiasts Trans Am for a jammola in the trunk of, yes, an indestructible talking car. [No. 93, p.57]

There's a load of fuzzy power chords ruling these tunes, but they're smoothed out and nudged into the background, allowing a very capable Cosentino to take her rightful place at the front of the mix. [No. 104, p.52]

It's Canning's guitar work that makes Chill hum, and the embellishments are enough to separate it from the growing crop of Fahey followers. [No. 104, p.53]

[The songs] are luminous and affecting enough to outlast much of the bullshit shock therapy that silences that same fickle chattering class. [No. 132, p.59]

Their liveliest, most varied offering since their debut. [No. 128, p.57]

There's plenty of upbeat rockers, but a bulk of the record is made up of ballads and slower jams. [No. 102, p.57]

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]

Black Moon Spell is King Tuff's glammiest work yet, echoing the swagger of the New York Dolls and the sexy, stoned vocal styling of Marc Bolan. But it still rocks. [No. 114, p.57]

Double Exposure is exceedingly well-crafted. [No. 104, p.60]

Comedown Machine may not quite hit the heights of the band's masterpiece-to-date, but it continues the band's healthy trend of finding curious new ways to twist and complicate its by-now instinctively recognizable sound. [No. 98, p.60]

Rarely do you stumble into a world so richly realized and so warmly, curiously inviting. [No. 104, p.58]

The pottery kiln warmth of the rhythm section lays a solid foundation for Lobsinger's sensual voice. [No. 128, p.59]

This is a singer's album, one that luxuriates in the pure, lovely tones of Nadler's warmly intimate, darkly insistent voice. [No.87 p.57]

Her soprano voice has held up pretty well, and her love for the natural and spirit world has only grown. But the production on I'm A Harmony by Wilco's Pat Sansone and composter Julia Holter combines '70s soft rock and '80s adult contemporary into a mix so vaporous it'll evaporate if you open the window. [No. 148, p.59]

It's hardly revolutionary, but Episodic is an immediate, righteously enjoyable half-hour. [No. 134, p.57]