Occasional exotic loop or surprising flair aside, the rest [aside from three songs] is listenable, charmless and pointless. [No.90, p.58]

The linear song structures, full of droning, atonal, repetitive music, shrieking vocals and skewed tempos, still make this music as challenging today as it was in 1978, although some of the songs now sound remarkably normal. [No. 113, p.61]

It's four-on-the-floor disco that thumps its way through this polyphonic orchestral funk like a bully. [#51, p.92]

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

The failing of Plain, however, is its lack of direction and absence of cohesiveness. [No. 98, p.55]

Fro all the hooks and hummable moments, none of them stick around after the song is over. [No.89, p.56]

The songs have a somber, ambient feel, even on tunes with uplifting subjects. [No. 134, p.57]

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

On Rehearsing My Choir, the Furnaces are just defiant because they can be, indulging every impulse but neglecting to make any of them even remotely compelling. [#70, p.96]

Not even Linkous can prop up this house of cards for long. [#58, p.94]

The Jersey quartet offers its most effective heartland punk cocktail to date, but shakes and stirs the concoction with new influences and musical approaches. [No. 113, p.56]

The 10-song Heavy Mood is eclectic enough to say that the band has matured. Almost. [No. 92, p.60]

A draining listen due to its scatterbrained ideas and patchy sequencing. [#73, p.106]

Walls could be their portal to lingering greatness. [No. 137, p.57]

The cosmic expanses of "I Love You Too, Death" and "Astro-Mancy" are particularly engrossing, but this record boasts more than enough quality head trips to keep you in it pull 'til the next go-round. [No. 103, p.57]

[An] awesome, never-sappy snapshot of two people who drive each other wild. [No. 121, p.59]

Strength In Numbers makes you wonder if you ever really liked this band at all. [#75, p.94]

The album has plenty of massive organ sounds and driving rhythms. [No. 112, p.53]

Though there's plenty of wit... to go along with copious amounts of jangle, twang and... Brian Wilson-esque sweep, there's often an overriding, wistful sadness mixed in with the Left Coast hedonism. [#73, p.106]

Dealing with Trans Am entails dealing with a great sense of humor that's a fun and striking listen to boot. [#54, p.109]

Crisper and cleaner than any previous Why? musing, Mumps Etc. is chamber hop for people who buy every remastered reissue of Pet Sounds. [No. 92, p.60]

Campily butch. [#69, p.110]

No, the London band is never going to be called innovative, but the gusto with which it approaches those naked influences of Dinosaur Jr, Pavement and Sonic Youth--and the craftsmanship with which it does so--cracks through our cynical shells. [No. 129, p.61]

DJ Shadow first made his name by delving deep into the world's bottomless pile of debris to redeem the wannbe hits and half-formed artistic statements of our musical past. Now, he contributes to it. s[#82, p. 54]

The results are about as bold and memorable as a spent glowstick. [No. 148, p.55]

It seems so mild. [#64, p.98]

Two albums in, Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros sound just as phony as Ima Robot did. [No.88 p.59]

Babel is the more subtle and accomplished album. [No. 92, p.56]