It's pure pop for grown-ups, filled with smarts, experience and a faith in the power of four-quarter time, played with the kind of chemistry that's only possible in musicians who've spent their whole lives together, rocking out as if nothing else matters. [No.88 p.55]

On [A Joyful Noise] the fire of youth has been replaced by a sexy confidence that oozes cool. [No.88 p.54]

As if to remind us that they're still the weird Crocodiles, Endless Flowers's best song, the surging "My Surfing Lucifer," is preceded by a clumsy spoken-word piece (in German, of course) ... it's a sign that there's still room for Crocodiles to figure out what works and what doesn't. [No.88 p.53]

The best moments are soft and strange. "The Corner" is a fabulous piece of folk understatement and emotional ambiguity, while the brilliant "Freefall" showcases Branan's willingness to stretch his voice to odd, ugly places in the service of transcendence. [No.88 p.53]

The whole of Dr. Dee is bucolic yet slightly nervy with Albarn's chatty croon acting as yet another gentle breeze wafting through the Arcadian affair. It's not the Damon-pop solo you hoped for. [No.88 p.52]

Young makes these old, old songs vital. [No.88 p. 51]

You wonder if he's forgotten how to have, you know, fun. Approach with caution. [No.87 p.61]

Recommended for those who long to hear Radiohead make a post-aughts indie-pop record, A Different Ship is without a doubt one of the most impressive and enjoyable efforts of 2012. [No.87, p.60]

Decidedly pleasant. [No.87 p.60]

Wainwright shows that his pop legs, while shaky, haven't lost their footing. [No.87 p.60]

Drummer Jerry Fuchs (now deceased) displaces air molecules the way advanced, AI-driven pulverizing machines in distant galaxies only wish they could throughout space banger "Yeah, C'mon," leaving guitarist Justin Chearno no choice but to vaporize his fretboard. [No.87 p.59]

They've consistently upped tempos while delivering saccharine-infused riffs with all the sunshine-y aplomb of a Prozac salesman's first and last day on the job. [No.87 p.59]

The hooks don't let up, the instrumentation provides the kind of sly surprise a pop listener wants from a three-minute gem, and the vocals have just enough grit to convey a darker lyrical tone. [No.87 p.59]

Unpatterns is indeed mostly patterns, in fact - moody, bloopy instrumentals that don't really fit into one subgenre box because they barely muster the strength to be defined by a category. [No.87 p.59]

A captivating listen. [No.87 p.58]

Lyrics ... come off as exceedingly everyday - as well as vital.

Morris sounds even more infuriated than he did 34 years ago on Black Flag's Nervous Breakdown. [No.87 p.57]

This is a singer's album, one that luxuriates in the pure, lovely tones of Nadler's warmly intimate, darkly insistent voice. [No.87 p.57]

The band's twee-ish melodies are still firmly in place, and the album has its softer acoustic moments - but the big slabs of rock all over In The Belly Of The Brazen Bull help give it a fantastic heft. [No.87 p.56]

The energy is different [from previous releases], more mature and refined. [No.87 p.56]

Though the sax draws you in, you'll stay for the trashy energy. [No.87 p.56]

The Ghost in the Daylight is a thing of great beauty... [yet] sounds dull - perfect, of course, with every note in the right place, but perfectly predictable too, with 10 songs that blend into one long, brooding whole. [No.87 p.55]

Passage has all the elements of a classic, from undeniable hooks to head-spinning shards of noise. [No.87 p.55]

The songwriting is flat-footed, with few moments that break from the homogeneous stupor. [No.87 p.54]

The Baltimore four-piece has the fuzzy guitar, the screamo vocals, the charging bass lines and an overwhelming sense of doom for stomping, post-Seattle noise punk. But the parts don't fit together. [No.87, p.54]

A record that plays like just the sort of effort we've come to expect from the Dandy Warhols: an uninspired, over-referential half-nod to the group's heroes. [No.87, p.54]

A skilled lyricist and a great, emotive voice. [No.86, p.55]

As epic and compelling as nearly anything in the Cult's '80's back catalog. [No.87, p.53]