[Shonen Knife's] 13 Ramones covers sound exactly like you'd expect.

Swirling synths abound, but remain encased in four-minute micro-epics which sometimes mine the icy ambition of pre-megastardom Simple Minds.

Spiky, occasionally over sugary. [14 May 2005, p.67]

Although clearly Canibus is undoubtedly one of the best freestyling lyricists of his generation, he's still to find the right production team to match his vocabulary.

Twist[s] both the ultra-familiar and the obscure into awkward new shapes. [21 Jan 2006, p.35]

A little shade among the sugary rays might not go astray, but maybe that's just the goth in me talking.

It's not without charm--the needle-jump static of 'Dolly And Porter' gently drives a sweet melody; stroboscopic flickers of synth make a gripping arrangement for 'Closer To The Elderly'--but too often it's just Taylor's fragile voice cooing drab, introspective mantras over sparse electric piano.

If you've ever wondered what growing up in middle-class 1970s America would have been like, these deeply personal revelations are for you. [30 Apr 2005, p.64]

Constant jangle blurs the songs, and a cover of Neil Young’s ‘Revolution Blues’ only emphasises Ranaldo’s newfound likeness to the Canadian in one of his dirgier moods.

The album could do with being at least half of its 70 minutes, to cut out the self-indulgent meandering.

Uncanny Valley is like listening to a latter-day Oasis album: too weakly reminiscent of past achievements to really satisfy.

Sometimes, on Magick Songs, you may wish they would--there’s a little alienating insularity here, but it’s still inspiring to see the band follow their instincts.

Ultimately, this is just a rock album that does exactly what it says on the tin. They are head-banging, pitch-altering rock songs that may not change the world right away, but they’ll give yer head a little wobble at the very least.

Presented as a 96-minute opera, his fourth studio album is a haughty gesture weighed down by its own folly, scanning instead as pathos.

The rough edges that gave them their early oddball indie pop character have been sanded off in favour of earnest but uninspiring anthemic rock.

So one third's great and two thirds grate, which is an improvement at least.

Ultimately, it lacks the variety or the startling sonic leaps that would make it essential. Interesting, but no cigar.

A good seven years out of date, Doom Abuse is pure synth-pop mania, frequently teetering between unadulterated Trent Reznor pop brilliance and impressions of Skrillex driving a monster truck through a Savages gig in a video arcade.

Duck is far from inventive, but there’s fun to be had.

This is, primarily, experiential music, meant to be enjoyed communally at their ear-splitting live shows.

It's often hugely clever... but tends to forget that the best metaphors are the ones that make you crack involuntary smiles, not the ones that require five minutes and a dictionary. [26 Feb 2005, p.66]

Grizzly Bear’s Chris Taylor has his production paws all over San Franciscan quartet The Morning Benders’ second full-length effort, and while Big Echo has more than pastiche to offer, a great deal of it still sounds a bit too familiar.

Shelter From The Ash is a more sedate affair, full of ghostly baroque folk stories that feel disappointingly ethereal.

‘Convocations’ is a mature work, but its length and intricate creation makes it difficult to get under its skin, the record’s wonderful honesty hidden behind layers that you wish could be peeled back.

As with everything The Indications do, ‘Private Space’ is incredibly listenable, yet for all their efforts to expand their sound, they still rest often on the formula of old.

In summary then, better than most if you like that sort of thing.

A few strokes of fortune might send this London quintet--or, say, Clock Opera or Fixers--towards stratospheric hugeness.

It’s ultimately toothless.