Most notably is how these songs manage to seem loose, fun and deliberate all at once.

The twelve songs here drip with coatings of sentiment and sparkly instrumentation that are saccharine and plastic.

What's missing where these lame boasts exist in Curtis is the vulnerability of moments on The Massacre (especially 'A Baltimore Love Thing') or any of the rich narrative that graced his first album, not to mention any of the goofy, sing-along catchiness that previously made his singles chart events. Musically 50's collaborators don't feel like they've brought anything near their best to the table.

Rare is the album that's able to expand an established band's fan base while completely satisfying the cult of early flag planters, but Strawberry Jam has that chance.

West's writing and delivery has improved since "The College Dropout," though they're still marked by both a cleverness and a clumsiness.

On an album where even the guest stars feel like samples worn out from repeated play--the back cover announces the song 'Flashlight Fight (Featuring Chuck D)'--the few innovative tracks offer hope that the Go! Team won't stagnate by its third outing.

Bluefinger is catchy in spots but ultimately forgettable.

Rise Above is deliberately challenging and obtuse; its ceaseless changes and refusal to settle are its most important similarities to Damaged's abrasive and exhaustive loudness. Translating Black Flag's anti-intellectual screed into arty free-jazz concept is one thing. That it actually merits repeat listens is another altogether.

Attack Decay Sustain Release sets a dance-friendly party mood and sustains it over the course of forty minutes, but it does not explore new territory.

Help Wanted Nights lacks the cohesion of "Blackout" or "Album of the Year," but it seems excusable to have a loose collection of songs--good songs, at least--that accompanies an as-yet-unseen movie or play, especially in the wake of the super-cohesive "Happy Hollow."

The best tracks on Love’s Miracle match Yow’s wildman performances with equally manic music. Qui doesn’t always achieve that balance, and the album sometimes feels like it’s getting by on quirk alone. But when it hits, it hits hard.

It is a snapshot of Pinback at its most practiced and self-aware: fluid, calculated, penetrating, yet always at the fringe of its former incarnation.

You have to applaud these guys for jumping out on a limb with this strange trip of a record, but they probably shouldn’t take up the ‘60s-revival cause full time.

Harris's frivolous humor loses its charm when the music falls flat.

The stylistic buffet has enough strength to survive a handful of duds.

Aesop Rock's None Shall Pass is filled with precise lyrical detail and head-nodding production, and the result is his most accessible record of his career to date.

Had there maybe been a more analytical approach to creating shamelessly tricked-out pop songs, maybe some of Brings on the Comets would sound more successful.

There isn't a bad song on the record, but neither is there a particularly good one.

The songwriting is simply the biggest flaw of We Are Him, and in an album so reliant upon the vocal performance, it's a flaw that's too hard to ignore.

you've heard them before. But it's not enough to sustain interest. The dead spaces in between just feel flatter in comparison, and those same hooks end up feeling disposable. It's a sharp, quick-burn of an attraction.

If the album sounds simple, it's because it is simple; it's the attitude, idiosyncrasies and Architecture in Helsinki's refusal to fall into the fey trappings of paint-by-numbers indie pop that make it such a distinguishing treat.

The result is Kala a stark confrontation of set notions of authenticity and identity--and my new favorite record.

Truthfully, after the first four songs, there's nothing about Challengers that isn't an evolutionary step forward for the band, making the sequencing even more nonsensical.

Under the Blacklight is at once more ethereal that anything Rilo Kiley has ever managed previously.

Although such swaths of varied, nebulous beauty obscure Snaith's musical core--if there is one--the music is so joyful in its rag and bone cherry-picking of the best of Britpop's history that such concerns are rendered pointless.

Kweli shows again that he deserves the respect he receives, but Eardrum is simply not cohesive enough.

The album's midsection gets bogged down in songs that sound too similar: more lovely piano, more soft cooing, too many gimmicky studio effects.... To Espinoza's credit, he gets Mentor Tormentor back on track.