Heaven? or Las Vegas? or, more probably (circa late '90's), Chicago? Hard to predict quite where Twin Sisters will end up, but it's a lovely, leisurely, labile journey all the same. [#81, p. 58]

FLOTUS is unexpected, occasionally inscrutable and fascinating. [No. 137, p.57]

The album includes a perky Cure pastiche, a taste of synth-pop and some very Spoon-ish back-and-forth between fuzzed-out, noisy guitars, but the succinct, kinetic rockers are its high points, and leaves you wanting more of them. [No. 97, p.59]

Riff-worthy, down and dirty and occasionally idling down Americana's lost highway. [#60, p.92]

There is still pullback, and delicate, melodic music seeps in, sounding like (synthetic) waves crashing on a (glass) beach. [No. 92, p.52]

[The] only complaint is that the rest of the LP doesn't quite sustain the power of these two tracks ["Petrichor" and "Sharp Stones"]. [No. 107, p.55]

Every Open Eye takes an "if it ain't broke" approach, following in the same sonic vein as Bones--sometimes outright repeating Bones--but not really building on it. [No. 125, p.58]

Consider the jarring Highway Songs a retrenchment in the wake of its creator's publicly nightmarish 2015: the album as spirit quest, as bridge. [No. 137, p.59]

Call it the musical equivalent of Cormac McCarthy's similarly brutal The Road. [No. 146, p.59]

Here Dee Dee even strips the roaring guitar off a lazily tuneful stopgap that's not quite as revelatory as High. [No. 92, p.53]

It’s a step forward for sure, though at times it reinforces the cloying feeling that the need to complicate rather than simplify makes for overwrought music. But you can’t blame a band for being thoughtful or for playing like something is at stake.

The one-man band does pretty well for himself in finding a place for his songs between sonic textures. [#51, p.117]

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]

It's less an emphatic, assertive statement than a patchwork scrapbook of disparate moods and tunes that, taken as a whole, feels not unpleasantly unfinished, somewhat hazy and dreamlike and understatedly charismatic. [No. 146, p.59]

His songwriting keeps growing hookier and more ingratiating. [#81, p. 59]

The LP is an unpredictable and often euphoric collection with plenty to, well, love. [Fall 2007, p.90]

Liquid guitar licks, bobbing bass lines, slow-tumbling vibes and lush strings float in and out of the mix, wrapping snugly around Sam Prekop's mellow croon. There's nothing life-changing here, but it's nice; and sometimes nice is enough. [#47, p.116]

There's both freshness and familiarity to this live-in-the-studio effort. [No. 97, p.53]

Though the sax draws you in, you'll stay for the trashy energy. [No.87 p.56]

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]

The album holds up better than most dustbin acquisitions reissue labels make, but it's not without its limitations - namely, in the way it mixes and matches aesthetics. [No. 81, p. 59]

For Kill My Blues, Tucker has made the kind of music she did when first inspired to pick up the guitar: riot rock with restless, pent-up frustration that buzzes with nerve. [No.91 p.60]

Static conveys some stylistic growing pains for the young band, but it's a captivating successor to one of the best debuts in recent years. [No. 103, p.52]

Arthur is still writing seamlessly melodic, slightly psychedelic tunes, often thickened with atmospheric reverb or distant electronics. [#73, p.84]

While it's a challenging listen, it's rarely jarring, making it oddly satisfying for both active and passive consumption. [No. 97, p.52]

These songs are every bit as spiritually urgent as those on What We Lose In The Fire We Gain In The Flood, but the motivation is as political as it is personal. [#87, p.57]

The five tracks never end far from where they begin, but they're also forever shifting. [No. 103, p.53]

WWPJ returns to the moody and energetic sound of its debut with In The Pit of the Stomache, a 10-song set that bristles with raw post-punk power while pulsing with pop subtlety. [#81, p. 59]