The album isn't faultless by any means, but Trailer Trash Tracys have made one of the most interesting albums of recent months.

There is nothing abrasive about Strange Weekend, nothing risky, nothing unique; there is instead just a shortage of "Wow!"

The Hold Steady this ain't, but as far as new directions go, Craig Finn could have done much worse.

When this EP gets it right, it is a triumphant nod to Dear's versatile ear, but when it settles for being weird for the sake of it, it's simply messy.

Most of Attack on Memory has an abrasive, shrewd backbone, but it's those moments where Baldi hones his sweet touch where the album finds a satisfying balance of surprise and comfort.

A "more accessible, less-noisy Jesus and Mary Chain".

The vocal hooks and catchy choruses that have brought Nada Surf this far have only gotten better.

As you listen, you can easily picture a campfire in a forest, stars in the sky and Laura Gibson, guitar cradled in her arms, mumbling her way through an upbeat breezy folk song that implies some inner sadness while at the same time being entirely optimistic and happy.

The album's biggest hindrance is a lack of ruthlessness at crucial moments, eschewing cohesion for broad-stroke stabs at too many genres.

In the end it's hard to fathom just who is going to really love this album.

A Classic Education have created a set that demonstrates proficiency while leaning heavily on an established style.

Some come-backs are fraught with danger, both commercial and artistic. This one is entirely justified.

His manipulations have gotten more patient, his sketches have become full tunes, and half-obscured melodies have received a lighting from the lamps.

Mature, reflective, elegant and just that little bit haunting, but ultimately and most importantly of all, brilliant.

It is samey, ugly and spectacularly stupid at the same time.

St. Vincent's most sonically rich effort to date.

While it is more realized than previous effort The Stand Ins, Okkervil River is showing potential for new direction more than they are showing versatility.

It's the album that makes her the comparative standpoint in her own right--suggesting subtly that she may one day be the talismanic songstress for her own generation.

Only three tracks are of sufficient quality to have seen the light of day and it means you can't help but question the motives behind the release of such an inessential collection.

a record that is both this good and a display of a band with so much more to show us does not come along often.

In spite of the album's wilfully hard-to-stomach intensity, [it] will appeal to fans of art music of many different backgrounds.

Magazine manage to retrace where they left off, rediscover their intricacies and do an excellent job at defining themselves for, what one can only hope will be, new generations of listeners.

It's not just the hooks of the songs that make this EP so bewitching, it's also a prophecy for post-dubstep.

The Black Keys have created a record that they believe is how a rock'n'roll record should sound, but without soul or sex or genuine sweet emotion.

When it's good, it's great; it's just a shame so many tracks fall short of his usually very high standards.

It's easy to criticise Talk That Talk but it's actually a fun and enjoyable record.

Ritual Union is catchy and well-produced, but it certainly doesn't demand any more than a handful of listens.

After a promising opening trio of tracks, Sticks + Stones wanes badly, and begins to sound more and more like it's been focus-grouped by industry executives in pursuit of a quick buck until there's barely any semblance of character left.