It'll undoubtedly please their cult following, if few others. [Sep 2011, p.110]

A single 47-minute long track, subtitled An Electronic Night Ceremony, it begins with a slowly unfolding dystopian bass rumble to which a pulsing beat and subtle layers of electronic soup are laboriously added. Sounding more like the hum of a car factory (they still have them in Germany) than the celestial sphere of the title, it's a querulous throb of a record which, once heard, hardly invites repeated listening.

The album's late lurch into electro and stadium rock is plain bizarre. [Aug. 2011, p. 119]

The lyrics on British Lion are at best workmanlike, tackling vague concepts with a deadening succession of cliches. [Nov 2012, p.98]

Lyrically, though, he's got strangely little of interest to say, no a particularly distinctive way of saying it. [Nov 2010, p.111]

Quirky and clever--even slightly sinister with in the murky darkness of Dragonslayer--rather than pioneering. [June 2008, p.146]

A Certain Pleasure, nods to Sonic Youth's twisty-turny Daydream Nation, and Natural Vision is pure Dinosaur Jr, circa '86-87. They need a whole lot more of that relative light to offset their predominant, brutal darkness. [May 2015, p.105]

Sounds more fun on paper than it is in reality. [Aug 2006, p.111]

A quarter of a century on, that still holds, right down to the same old ponderous rhythms, Daniel Ash's screaming guitar fuzz and Peter Murphy's ridiculously portentous vocals. [Apr 2008, p.102]

The ideas are all there, they just don't fit together properly yet. [Sep 2012, p.110]

On this showing he's bored and directionless. [Nov 2006, p.134]

The Sisters' eponymous first release throws up the unlikely comparison of John Lennon fronting The Flaming Lips, only to result in something that's too unfocused and self-indulgent to be more than a passing curiosity. [Mar 2011, p.116]

The results should be riveting. Sporadically, they are. [Jan 2012, p.127]

Not a lot of thought has gone into changing the formula. [Nov 2010, p.111]

This offering is bedevilled by elaborate, overly fussy instrumentation. [May 2002, p.114]

Most songs need both depth and edge. With Love Frequency, Klaxons have tuned in. What they really need to do, however, is freak out. [Jul 2014, p.105]

[Stereo Total] have neither the songs nor the art to make their electro-doodlings anything more than an exercise in narcissistic cool. [Apr 2005, p.124]

Any promise it shows [early on], howeever, soon gives way to yet another album of baroque rock and Beach Boys harmonies that strives towards being some lost Brian Wilson opus. [Feb 2008, p.95]

The homage is wearing a little thin, and it's time someone called last orders. [Sep 2012, p.112]

The whole never manages to lift off. [Oct 2005, p.120]

Guerolito's songs dissolve in an anonymous stream of chugging electro and dub effects. [Feb 2006, p.101]

Monotonous riffs are churned out at a snail's pace. [Oct 2005, p.114]

The Coldplay-leaning Some Other Arms and the flowery-welly wearing Mayflies suggest their final destination may be as soundtracks for the John Lewis catalogue or sunsets on Instagram. [Sep 2016, p.107]

The likes of 'Win Park Slope' are pleasant, but also disappontingly unremarkable. [May 2009, p.112]

In time-honoured, do-it-yourself fashion, their debut Introducing breathlessly races through 10 buzzy tracks in a shade over 23 minutes, by which time they've long since run out of puff. [Feb 2010, p. 112]

The B-side was never meant to bear this much relentless inspection. [Feb 2004, p.113]

It sounds lovely. And yet it is also crying out for Fraser's otherworldly quaver to give it a much-needed extra dimension. [Jul 2006, p.114]

Shrigley's humour quickly suffers from the law of diminishing returns; once the initial shock has dissipated, it fails to stand up to repeated listening. [Jan 2015, p.128]