The songs are imitative and lackluster.

Instead of copying the aesthetic of 1970s rock ‘n’ roll, they’ve copied some of last year’s more popular indie records. The result, though at times satisfying, mostly feels contrived.

Dead Drunk sounds six billion times better in concept than in execution.

Largely forgettable.

Though comparisons to the Postal Service and M83’s newer work are somewhat understandable, the record lacks emotion in a way that makes it better suited for a Volvo commercial or a Starbucks compilation.

A majority of the tracks lack in everything but production value.

Turns out Isaac Brock is just too damn weird to be imitable.

The guitar work is straight out of the Velvet Underground/Television songbook, and the production begs for comparisons to the Strokes or Interpol. That's not to say being compared to these folks is bad, it's just that those comparisons don't reveal how unimaginative The Black Magic Show really is.

Most of these songs are only pleasant for thirty seconds or so.

Even if it came out in 1996, it would still be self-absorbed, turgid, over-produced and soulless.

Sweet Christ, in no universe will Big Sean be greater than Notorious B.I.G. or Big Pun, and at the rate he's going he'll be lucky to end up a better rapper than Sean Combs, let alone Sean Carter.

It doesn’t challenge listeners or give them anything unexpected or even asked for, really (who's waiting around with bated breath for 'Ring-A-Ling?'), but it’s already a certifiable hit.

This album will sway neither the faithful nor the unbelievers from their positions along the borders of her stalled momentum.

What makes BAYTL really frustrating is the fact that besides V-Nasty's appearances, the album has a chance to be excellent.

How does this sucker sound? Not very good.

"Cartoon Motion" was a nice moment for Mika, but this second album does not improve or advance what he did before. In fact, he seems to have regressed through his venture into childhood on The Boy Who Knew Too Much.

Comparing his remarkable contributions to Deerhoof with this boring, nondescript effort suggests that Cohen should open his studio doors and welcome collaborators.

Thrilling prospect though it may be, the result is a disaster.

The album has a consistent lack of meaning and genuine feeling.

In the Dark is a big, loud, dumb record, filled with songs about not respecting women you bang on the bus ("Someone's Daughter"), feeling empty inside ("So Lonely" and "I Don't Even Care About The One I Love") and being for real ("I Am For Real").

It essentially exposes Doherty’s biggest weaknesses: his trite lyrics, his less than perfect voice, and his inability to sound interested in anything he’s doing not under the title "Libertines."

In the end, Calling the World left me bored as hell.

Sounds like a band mashing all the current trends and ending up with nothing.

None of the band’s stylistic flourishes are pulled off well enough to convince you they could do one style effectively, nonetheless the 10 they try out here.

A predictable, oversimplified, boring mess.

The lyrics are especially vapid here in the Stadium Arcadium.

Ahead of the Lions is pure press-a-button-out-comes-album radio pap.

Even with slick production the instrumentation is lackluster, missing that rattling punk energy; in their overt politics and complete lack of subtlety, the lyrics are trite.