The group's warmest, most charitable album to date. [No. 98, p.61]

Shook Me offers little that doesn't sound like any one of those bands [Vampire Weekend, the Kooks, and fun.] sanded down to their blandest core. [No. 97, p.58]

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]

Musically and lyrically, she shares more with Barbara Manning and John Darnielle, able to tell affecting late-night confessionals with sharp attention to detail and very little drama. [No. 97, p.61]

For the most part, he succeeds. [No. 97, p.60]

The noise that's here is lovely, heartbreaking, expansive and raw. [No. 97, p.58]

The band seems aware that it's on well-trod ground throughout Honky Tonk, though that doesn't seem to affect Son Volt one bit. [No. 97, p.59]

As with his solo output, Jose Gonzalez has a clear vision for his music's direction, and he sticks to it with admirably rigorous discipline here, making the majority of Junip more steady than indistinct. [No. 97, p.57]

Hi Beams has style to burn, colorful as a candy store and shiny as new-molded plastic. [No. 97, p.56]

Chelsea Light Moving finds Moore in renaissance mode. And it's pretty goddamn great, even if one might occasionally yearn for a Lee Ranaldo squall or Gordon vocal coo-roar up around the next bend. [No. 97, p.54]

Mala is his finest attempt at not killing momentum by diving down a rabbit hole. [No. 97, p.52]

Stygian Stride may officially be divided into six differently titled pieces, but it actually exists best as a start-to-finish totality. [No. 97, p.59]

Tales From Terra Firma takes them to a more generic realm of sing-along indie rock, which is too bad. [No. 97, p.59]

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

This is Fol Chen's sharpest full-length yet, gaining cohesion from the often mechanically warped vocal presence of new frontwoman Sinosa Loa. [No. 97, p.55]

There's both freshness and familiarity to this live-in-the-studio effort. [No. 97, p.53]

Newman has pushed his voice to a human place, upon a mantle, as if finally proud of the boys. Good show. [No.97, p.61]

Some of the Milk Carton Kids' best work to date. [No. 97, p.56]

We find a band tapping into a distinctly American heart of darkness, capturing this nation's descent into partisan chaos and random, endless violence the way only the foreign-born can. [No. 97, p.54]

The album includes a perky Cure pastiche, a taste of synth-pop and some very Spoon-ish back-and-forth between fuzzed-out, noisy guitars, but the succinct, kinetic rockers are its high points, and leaves you wanting more of them. [No. 97, p.59]

Aside from getting off on the wrong foot and then later making an awkward exit, the bulk of Illusion is a bristling. [No. 97, p.57]

Structurally stripped-down and bulked up by Randall Dunn's satisfyingly solid production, too many of these songs fall short of memorability. [No. 97, p.56]

Despite the experimental tendencies in the music, this is an album that catches attention in the home speakers as well as in the art scene. [No. 97, 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]

Occasionally a bright guitar line or luminous touch of piano floats out of the mix to deliver a hint of sunshine, but mostly the band does a skillful job of supporting Nathan Willett's anguished vocals. [No. 97, p.54]

It's clear that Vile still has great ambition to make robust, timeless rock--and the songs to back it up. [No. 97, p.60]

English Electric is a tremendously satisfying listen for fans who've worn out their copy of Dazzle Ships. [No. 97, p.57]

Shaking proves from the get-go to be easily the most ambitious and defiantly challenging release in either Dreijer sibling's catalog. [No. 97, p.57]