For much of Happiness, Bays slurs his way through the best music Hot Hot Heat has ever made.

Wild Things does its darndest to plug the electro-dance ice-pop void left by La Roux's sophomore let-down and the absence of new Robyn, Annie And Dragonette albums. [No. 133, p.57]

She dives into world music on this album, with interesting results. [No. 123, p.61]

[A] return to the simpler production style of 2001 debut The Optimist LP. [#68, p.112]

A note-cramming session heavy on the Little Feat and light on the Sea And Cake. [#55, p.70]

May piles up cresting false falsettos, disco pulses and Beach Boys wall-of-sound swells and, with the exceptionally sappy "Tell Her," offers a serviceable "So Happy Together" homage. [No.88 p.57]

The record is full of texture, and while it maybe isn't essential listening, it's a nice addition to both catalogs. [No. 109, p.55]

You can feel Bridwell's effort, while Beam's casual understatement is entrancing. [No. 122, p.51]

Those looking for Kaufman's brand of gleefully absurd fin will surely be disappointed, as these tapes are strictly for completist diehards. [No. 101, p.57]

Where 2005's harrowing Frances The Mute strikes the right balance between inspiration and indulgence, the Mars Volta loses its equilibrium with Amputechture. [#73, p.96]

It's pretty, non-threatening, and your mom might enjoy it, though don't let that be a criticism. [No. 93, p.53]

The band's largely understated interpretation of punk offers a fresh and relatable perspective, mostly free of melodrama or righteous indignation. [No. 97, p.61]

The album's got its share of earnest torchers, but the upbeat "Salt Of The Earth" is the standout--spooky, yearning, bluesy, almost trip-hoppy and a little bit weird. [No. 106, p.54]

There's never a sense that the singer convinces himself he's got anything beyond the rote punk/blues motions to draw from. [#67, p.112]

A dull collection of dreary drone-rock songs. [#69, p.111]

Eventually, Walk It Off reveals Tapes ‘N Tapes’ debut, 2006’s The Loon, to be both leaner and meaner.

He sandbags every song with gigantic, syrupy string arrangements that make John Williams sound like John Cage. [#58, p.82]

Music, while a pleasant listen, is nowhere near the heartfelt art Eitzel normally blesses us with. [#54, p.86]

Van Dyk can only do one style, and by the time the album is two=thirds over, you're already ready for him to mix out. [#86, p.59]

The whole record is all skittering drums never finding their place, and shivering synths that drift in search of a landing pad. [No. 94, p.58]

We still find this trio a little yawn-worthy. [No. 93, p.55]

Hideously tedious sounds of the "definitive" Primus lineup drowning in a soupy melange of chocolate and cutesy pretense gone way, way wrong. [No. 114, p.61]

The nine songs blur together over the 36 minutes, and they offer few surprises once you enter their heavy-handed world. [No. 138, p.58]

Secrets Are Sinister’s unflagging energy keeps it from sounding tragic, as if with a few more tries, its narrators and subjects might be able to bridge the gap between them.

Here guitarist Dante Schwebel cedes more space [than on past albums] to Abraham Villanueva's dense beds of keys, bringing a fuller, more textured sound that makes a big hooks even bigger. [No.89 p.55]

These eight songs get their Thurston Moore on, with all the razor guitar noise his real band forbids and no east e of ideas. [No. 97, p.55]

Trullie sings in a lovely alto; it's a shame to see her voice wasted on something so overwrought [opening song, "Rules we Obey]... and boring ["Madeline"]. By the time the enchanting harmonized refrain kicks in, you're probably long gone. [No. 85, p.60]

There's still plenty to get excited about here.... But the stinkers here--like would-be Bowling For Soup b-side "Karaoke, TN" and "Coat Check Girl"--nearly soil the whole thing. [No. 118, p.57]