There's a duality to Fragrant World that, sized up alongside its two predecessors, reveals an inherent character trait and a more troublesome trend. Bad songs turn into good songs, and good songs turn into better ones. [No.90 p.51]

Some of the Milk Carton Kids' best work to date. [No. 97, p.56]

You wonder if he's forgotten how to have, you know, fun. Approach with caution. [No.87 p.61]

The vocals are random, directionless moans and the open-ended delivery hardly screams, "Listen to me again!" [No. 138, p.53]

Over a full-length album, he's as annoying as ever. [No. 96, p.61]

Their [Doherty and Barat's] boyish charms are punctuated by sneers and jeers, leaving the listener clueless as to who ends where the other begins. That sort of daft mystery makes Anthems--and the Libertines in general--worth its weight in dope and gold. [No. 124, p.58]

For now, an engaging debut. [No. 95, p.60]

An album that is cinematic in scope and has a harmonic narrative as complex as your favorite TV show. [No. 121, p.55]

The pummeling drums and gnarly guitar may sound hardcore on first listen, but they're augmented by bright pop touches that make the bitter sentiments expressed in the lyrics easy to swallow. [No. 103, p.61]

Manages a graceful, humble, grounded timelessness without sacrificing the groove. [#58, p.82]

Their second album only partially makes good on their promise, delivering a lovely package that lacks the emotional punch of last year's terrific self-titled debut. [#55, p.70]

At times, the offering is inviting on the surface, but becomes a bit antiseptic or flattened once you actually get inside. [No. 98, p.53]

These 15 instrumental tracks come across as half exorcism, half jam session, but the result fits pretty well in line with everything they've done in their other bands. [No. 107, p.58]

No matter the song or guest, it always sounds like the Melvins, and that's a good thing. [No. 98, p.58]

While Scolnick hasn’t refined his oftentimes maudlin lyrical sensibilities to match his serious taste for pop hooks, his honeycombed, hopscotching vocal delivery now has some muscle to back it up.

Arnalds' voice is the centerpiece, as each of the 12 tracks lives or dies by her pipes. [No. 96, p.52]

May's singing is the unifying thread, a balmy, melancholy-drenched tenor that brings a touch of sunshine to every word uttered. [No. 102, p.58]

Brock and Co. manage to entertain and amuse as often as they don't. [No. 118, p.51]

Red, Yellow And Blue is good.

The brevity gives the tunes space to present themselves without a needless bridge here or a prideful coda there. [#71, p.102]

The occaisonally infectious hooks keep the shtick from falling into one-dimensional parody. [#64, p.104]

Not only essential, Love And Distance is like nothing you've heard this year. [#64, p.95]

The good (and bad) news for people who love bad (and good) news: Both groups will be delighted and appalled by this record. [No. 112, p.51]

Better still is hearing Byrne's mincing yelp and Veloso's flickering vocals as one entity as it winds its way weirdly through the calm breezes of Talking Heads' "Heaven" as well as a small bunch of flowery nu-brazilian classics and cuts penned by both composers. [#86, p.59]

It may not be what you expect, but it's got the same Dwyer DNA that's always made he band compelling. [No. 138, p.61]

This LP does little to propel her anywhere near the ranks of the big-name women of contemporary pop/rock. [No. 108, p.61]

A backhanded compliment, sure, but really--things could have been so much worse. [No. 93, p.61]

This is Fol Chen's sharpest full-length yet, gaining cohesion from the often mechanically warped vocal presence of new frontwoman Sinosa Loa. [No. 97, p.55]