The energy is unreal, but it also seems to be Dope Body's raison d'etre. [No. 114, p.55]

If there is no respite from volume, there are variations in pacing. [No. 117, p.59]

You've got an odd, lovingly produced hybrid of old Nashville and new Americana, with a batch og forgettable songs surrounding a few that deserve a place in the canon. [No. 107, p.52]

Boasting strength, durability and psychic stability on comeback Bloodsports, Suede shows its true dramatic worth on pensive, atmospheric exhibitions. [No. 98, p.57]

While k2o might be a little more abstract than its predecessor, the tones and textures are more fleshed out this time around. [No. 102, p.57]

With the help of producer Jim James, Basia Bulat brings a rich, melodramatic sheen to her confessional tales of woe. [No. 128, p.53]

Pelo pumps up the beat and subtly shifts the band's sound from the lounge to the club. [#48, p.75]

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

On its own terms, Void Beats Invocation Trex is a Cavern worth exploring. [No. 128, p.53]

The Quins bring pathos and depth to sleek Katy Perry/Lady Gaga-esque electropop, true, but reaching for the golden ring too often dilutes the inventiveness and creative abandon that once made a new T&S record such an exhilarating proposition. [No. 132, p.59]

It would seem the sun has risen over Dead Meadow and the flowers are finally in bloom. [#67, p.90]

The longer cuts here have some great ones. It's just the kind the Juan MacLean crafts seem to work best with plenty of room to wriggle and stretch. [No. 113, p.57]

Bishop's well-established fascination with Eastern music and mysticism proves a ready foil for Chasny's expansive, psychedelic Americana. [No.92 p.57]

Love it or hate it, in her hands or someone else's, Ono's music does what fine art has always done: It dares you to feel. [No. 128, p.54]

The S4 seems very confident in getting away from itself and making music not burdened by influence, but propelled by it. [#58, p.106]

All Around Us is moody, pretty and spooky-cool. [No. 123, p.59]

The fourth LP from this gritty Toronto five-piece offers a few genuine gems sprinkled among many more tracks borne out of blue-collar blood, sweat and tears.

It's a sandbox of a record, less interested in establishing a specific musical identity than a general sense of (renewed) creative potential. [No. 132, p.61]

Adviatic Songs shows the band musically reaching for extremely mystical heights. [No.89, p.57]

A typical triumph of both will and skill. [No. 132, p.61]

With shimmering synths and deep, delicious grooves, Sinkane delivers a future-funk feast of global proportions. [No. 113, p.59]

This sidecar is neither evolution nor revolution, though its eight tracks contain a fair share of intrigue and insight into Bird's feverish 2011, as well as a contemporary rearrangement so sweet it should comer rimmed in sugar. [No. 93, p.58]

What holds it all together—besides the thematic unity--are Pollock’s vocals, which are clear, unaffected and emotive throughout. [No. 128, p.59]

The band has ripped elements from early L.A. hardcore, '90s powerviolence and screamo, and it wields this arsenal of influences to deliver big, sharp hooks. [No. 93, p.59]

Though it won't be every listener's groove, fans of baroque pop's lush overreach will find a lot to enjoy. [No. 128, p.59]

There's nothing here that radically reinvents the delicate beauty of Drake's timeless compositions. [No. 98, p.61]

Tyler has crafted eight instrumentals that augment his lilting fingerpicking with stately keyboards and brisk beats. Aside from a few minutes of white-line numbness, it’s a salutary combination. [No. 132, p.61]

There's nothing wrong with punching the clock when the results ate so dependably swoony. [No. 111, p.53]