If it all sounds a bit vintage, at age 61, he's earned the right. [No. 126, p.61]

lude tUnE-yArDs’ Merril Garbus, who supplies an urgent, rhythmic vocal from on the spooky and stellar “Little Queen Of New Orleans.” Low Cut Connie teases these flourishes throughout Hi Honey, making for an album that’s both retro-minded and forward-thinking.

Yet another Maritime record full of amiable, breezy numbers, every note and octave in place. The soul and panache of yore, however, are sadly MIA. [No. 125, p.59]

Holdin' The Bag pleases the punks and suppresses the alt-country garage rockers alike. [No. 125, p.61]

In guitar lines that are jittery with pop portent, hosting a sharp-witted party for nonbelivers everywhere. [No. 125, p.61]

A welcome addition to its expansive discography. [No. 125, p.59]

The Icarus Line has created a masterful artistic achievement that can scarcely be listen to. The musical sweep is epic, highly orchestrated. [No. 125, p.57]

[A] consummate artistic triumph. [No. 125, p.56]

Everybody's A Good Dog is crisp, shimmering and bombastic. [No. 125, p.55]

A notably more polished and considered affair than his erstwhile Sentridoh offerings, though it captures a comparable sense of intimacy and immediacy. [No. 125, p.54]

It's neither better nor worse than any other Clientele album, but it's an excellent primer. The real treat for fans, though, come sin the deluxe edition which includes a 10-track "lost album" from 1994, The Sound Of Young Basingstoke. [No. 125, p.53]]

Sure, it's steeped in familiarity, but it's also fun in the sun. [No. 125, p.60]

It's heady.... Wand delivers dynamic, lysergic rock 'n' roll. [No. 125, p.61]

The result is the soundtrack to a mid-day timeslot at any of the massive festivals popping up in every corner of the country where the band's celebrity still won't be draw enough to redirect most attendees' focus. [No. 125, p.55]

Engaging and alluring as this fresh coat of cool on an easily recognizable sonic vehicle maybe, Better Nature nonetheless remains an album destined to placate--not trip out--fans. [No. 125, p.61]

Rub still happily rubs listeners the wrong-right way with crass, curt tunes. [No. 125, p.61]

Exhausting Fire is the fourth--and best installment of what will hopefully one day be recognized as the finest thing going in the forward-thinking heavy underground. [No. 125, p.59]

A brilliant pastiche of styles. [No. 125, p.57]

A staggering masterpiece. [No. 125, p.55]

Every Open Eye takes an "if it ain't broke" approach, following in the same sonic vein as Bones--sometimes outright repeating Bones--but not really building on it. [No. 125, p.58]

There is a surprising amount of vitriol pent up--ever so politely--in these songs, and when that vitriol squeaks out into the universe, it is very genteel, very well-mannered vitriol. [No. 125, p.53]

Cliched lyrics and predictable musicality make every song here sound the same. [No. 125, p.53]

As If offers something close to perfection, as far as !!! goes. [No. 125, p.52]

A degree of delicacy colors album number eight. [No. 125, p.55]

A fascinating peek into Mercer's attic of influential detritus. [No. 125, p.59]

It's world-class vibe-out music, equally well-suited to deep headphones listeners and SkyMall soundtracks alike. [No. 125, p.61]

The sounds of the time are eclectic DIY, and often impressive. [No. 124, p.55]

The Dear Hunter might be better served by working in rein in its vast pretensions. [No. 124, p.53]