With All The Times We Had, they've nailed the harmony-drenched, foot-tapping folk/rock of the Seattle sound. [No. 96, p.55]

The riffs jump out with their junk out, wave wildly in your face, then leave you with the bill. Yet what's always been generally true of North Carolina's finest denim demons is that they're not afraid to show off their intellect. [No. 99, p.60]

A few more tracks like ["Chicks, Man"] would have made Elvis Club great, rather than good. [No.99, p.54]

There's no flashiness here, but a slow-burning passion makes this record smoke. [No.99, p.56]

Golden Age mines that elusive ground between the way things were and the way they're remembered, set to hypnotic acoustic and electronic instrumentation. [No.99, p.55]

It's good to have these Michigan noisemakers back, in fine form. [No.99, p.61]

Three cheers aren't enough. [No.99, p.59]

Abandon is a baseline, with Chardiet demonstrating a solid understanding of the fundamentals. [No.99, p.59]

A pleasant bedroom-style record that sometimes sounds more like rough sketches than fully formed ideas. [No.99, p.58]

This somnambulant slice of dreamy, low-key synth rock is a logical follow-up to Weekends. [No.99, p.58]

Marling is the gutsiest of chamber folkies. [No.99, p.57]

With Ultraviolet, Kylesa has retreated to a place of darkness and alienation. [No.99, p.57]

R. Cole Furlow reliably packs every Dead Gaze song with pathos, effects, blurred motion and voices, man, voices. [No.99, p.54]

Angergard vivid production is the perfect foil for Komstedt's warmly detached vocals, and fans of Saint Etienne, Beach House and Blondie's "Heart Of Class" should take notice. [No.99, p.53]

Monomania is stacked with track-to-track unshakable, albeit twisted, pop melodies and an atmosphere of unrest that will stick with you between repeated listens. [No.99, p.52]

It is, by any measure, a lovely, lovingly made record, its 13 tracks coming to enveloping climaxes via mystifyinng, electrifying turns of phrase. [No.99, p.51]

This one's a keeper. [No.99, p.52]

It's the rather unhinged propositions that sends chills in the warmest way, much like Will Oldham's timelessly classic mid-'90s output. [No.99, p.52]

From a fan's point of view, this [playing the same songs for years] rarely works. And it rarely works here. [No.99, p.55]

Love Is The Devil draws more obviously from film music, creating a moving, mostly instrumental platter loaded with evocative drones and coarse textures. [No.99, p.55]

It's hard to keep this album from simply asking why over and over again. [No.99, p.59]

Slow Summits is full of carefully arranged autumnal tunes: thoughtful, intimate, unaffected and wistfully romantic. It's secret music worth sharing.[No.99, p.56]

Intensely personal and musically powerful, Griffin captures the bold spirit of her family's history with top-notch songs. [No.99, p.56]

Debbie Downer, perhaps, but Austra sure knows how to make misery sound like a good time. [No.99, p.52]

A neat, consistently solid 34-minute record unconcerned with peaking or hits. [No.99, p.61]

Rogue Wave's fifth album features a handful of its best tunes yet. [No.99, p.59]

The music remains solidly Southern, using all three chords, but the lyrics reach for new levels of cussedness and vulnerability. [No.99, p.57]

Hopkins drifts too often into listless ambiance for anything here to actually set in. Even so, Immunity manages--more than any if his work to date--to accent Hopkins' greatest asset as a producer: his remarkable attention to detail. [No.99, p.57]