Guitarist John Hill... generates enough raw power to mask the shortcomings of any old lead vocalist. Fortunately for this Denver foursome, it has one of the most exciting singers around today. [#68, p.91]

Earle doesn't try to reinvent the blues, but he wears them well. [No. 117, p.53]

You may smirk, but you're more likely to sing along to Some Things Never Stay The Same than to crack up at its extra-layering and gratuitous cymbal flourishes. [No. 105, p.55]

The Rezillos have lost little in terms of sweaty, cranky boogie-rock fervor that they and the Cramps helped put on the map. [No. 118, p.61]

The rhythm section kept the sleazy blues and gutter grunge on track and moving forward with bass locked into a pocket provided by some seriously pounding battery while still allowing for a loose feel that gives you the sense you're peaking in on a cathartic discharge of energy. [No. 143, p.61]

Flesh is musical, but also minimal, a soothing pink noise that won't put you to sleep or interfere with your daydreams. [No. 116, p.59]

With each layer adding something to the stew when time on their own endeavors allowed, Nevermen is a successful and forward-thinking act of sonic maximalism. [No. 128, p.52]

Do It! is accessible enough to appeal to both curious indie-pop fans and avant musos without an obscurantist chip in their shoulders. [Summer 2008, p.98]

Sure, anyone who has ever listened to 14 minutes of classic-rock radio has heard a good chunk of this ... but the energy remains undeniable and infectious. [No.88 p.56]

All Rise flitters about like an overly melodramatic actor: it might be pretty, but it offers little more than monotony. [#67, p.97]

Despite certain songs dragging on longer than need be, Night combines classical and flighty pop quite masterfully. [#82, p.53]

When everything's working, the band is a force. Which doesn't happen enough on this oddly-timed eponymous release. [No. 85, p.53]

Colder achieves a startling freshness on its second full-length that few post-punk bands can even hope to approach. [#70, p.89]

'War Cry," the album's longest track at more than 11 minutes, sums up the band's problem with its blend of barely audible vocals and meandering guitar solos that go from metallic shredding to simple repeated clusters of notes without building much tension or release. [No. 109, p.59]

He's perfectly adequate as a singer and melody writer, but he doesn't have the indelible personality of a Morrissey or Isaac Brock. [No. 96, p.56]

Forcefield achieves a sound, which--despite the title--is all allure, no repellant. [No. 108, p.61]

Freedom ultimately finds cohesion in Refused's continuing mission to punish your ears, move your feet and rage against the Man. [No. 122, p.58]

Just when the Los Angeles-based trio's fourth album threatens to dissolve into another sleeping-beauty effort you might enjoy as a nightcap, something happens... [#48, p.74]

Days Of Abandon stands up as both a continuation and a reintroduction for this ambitious band. [No. 109, p.59]

The band's twee-ish melodies are still firmly in place, and the album has its softer acoustic moments - but the big slabs of rock all over In The Belly Of The Brazen Bull help give it a fantastic heft. [No.87 p.56]

The pacing is only slightly faster than a brontosaurus in a tar pit, each track riding on a spine of thick lumbering guitar. [No. 104, p.54]

It's very Art Of Noise circa 1991. [#73, p.104]

This Machine Kills Artists is definitely lengthier than need be, but if this album has an intended accomplishment, it's further illustrating the expanding range of Osborne's songwriting abilities. [No. 110, p.59]

[A] consistently nourishing collection. [No. 108, p.53]

As with all impressive novelty albums, it's hard to imagine getting to a sixth play of these nonetheless flawless interpretations, and even those would mostly be for friends and neighbors. [No. 95, p.54]

The lyrics are overwrought, and the music is dark but lacking the edge that would make the songs compelling. ... Thankfully they bracket the album with "Love You To The Sky" and "Just A Little Love," up-tempo gems that prove they haven't lost their magic touch. [No. 142, p55]

Sounds like lovelorn, half-baked philosophy for the Mariah Carey set.... Lucky for Justine Frischmann and her reconstituted Elastica, rock 'n' roll doesn't require lyrical profundity, just great beats, riffs, and attitude. All are here in spades... [#47, p.90]

Asleep and a Forgetting is [mellifluous], only crankier and somehow more personal than anything previous, soaked in the moody nuances of laughter and forgetting, memory and momentary lapses of such. [No. 85, p.55]