The band has finally become more than the sum of its friends. [#54, p.106]

By no means a radical album; challenging as it may be, it's a natural extension of earlier work rather than a sudden departure from it. [#51, p.105]

There are moments where small breakthroughs are made, but as Sway proceeds, it takes a turn toward the dour and depressing. [No. 114, p.61]

If Factory Floor emobodied a dynamic tension between paralysis and movement, claustrophobia and cathartic release, this outing functions similarly but tips the scales slightly toward the former categories. [No. 134, p.57]

Nothing truly "new" but still revealing surprises and delights for the initiated. [No. 144, p.61]

You can only imagine the verbal bonbons Gallagher has in store for Oxford’s Foals, whose bristling, high-energy dance shtick borrows heavily from better U.K. bands--and whose members were gracing magazine covers months before the release of this underwhelming debut.

The Welsh quintet's second release goes down as easy as a mixtape on a '90s spring day. [No. 121, p.57]

Penn's precision in balancing melody, mood and texture throughout nicely counters the often-depressing subject matter. [#69, p.106]

The production is crisper, the songs seem less abrupt, and the vocals are less murky. [No. 100, p.53]

This album sounds nothing like the stuff that got you into Slow Club in the first place. Approach tipsy and with caution. [No. 111, p.61]

The Blow is full of those breathy moments, minimalist percussive and vocal stimulations that send shivers and sparks from the headphones to the brain to the heart to the feet. [No. 103, p.53]

Partygoing is arguably as good as Memories Of Love. [No.99, p.54]

Ultimately, neither the album's ample, artful ambience nor its pasted-on continuous sequencing can help it transcend the ho-hum resignation of its title. [No. 149, p.59]

Coomes' vividly imagined, bloodcurdling tales of anger and dreaming are so cleanly produced and layered... that you barely remember how lousy Quasi's other records sound in comparison. [#71, p.110]

Heavy, haunting and wholly captivating. [No.90 p.56]

Another fine Vanderslice record with all he things we've come to expect. [No. 100, p.61]

Arthur goes at it more heartily than ever on autobiographical treatises like "King Of Cleveland," with a full-blooded band of renowneds and a funk that matches his usual finessed frenzy. [No. 100, p.52]

Circulatory System is once again a soft pharmaceutical machine on Mosaics. [No. 110, p.53]

After a promising start, the album charts a steep and steady decline into ersatz Bowie and slapdash psychedelia. [#58, p.96]

No One Is Lost features some of the band's richest melodies, not to mention some of its heaviest grooves. [No. 115, p.60]

Smith keeps his garage-rock grounding--and his distinctiveness--intact. [No. 100, p.58]

Musically, it's another melodic goldmine and their most vigorous, least fussy work in ages. [No. 150, p.57]

After The End is disappointing because Merchandise has already proven it can do more. [No. 113, p.59]

Capacious, intimate and brimming with both whimsy and tension, Recording A Tape is what classical music might sound like from some advanced alien civilization. [#70, p.86]

When the record works, it's unarguably charming. [#86, p.54]

If there's a complaint to be leveled, it's that the off threesome might have smoothed out its differences a little too much. But it mostly works. [No. 101, p.57]

They create fresh sonic collages that reference past epochs rather than erect shrines to exalt them. [No. 101, p.57]

Exister may still press a heavy thumb on the melodic rock end of the scale... but enough Caution-era magic is recaptured for us to welcome these new transmissions from Radio Free Gainesville. [No.88 p.56]