Suffers from the same faults as previous efforts: limp tunes, pompous guitar solos and an overhwlming sense of "Will this do?" [Sep 2003, p.98]

Miserable and insipid. [Dec 2004, p.130]

Contains far too many bland ballads. [Feb 2006, p.105]

As bland as paint. [May 2005, p.110]

Most of it already sounds a decade old. [Dec 2003, p.137]

An album that's--unusually--both disorienting and immensely tedious. [Nov 2012, p.103]

They may still want to party every night, but it would take a Kiss Kasket full of Viagra to animate this limp cock rock. [Dec 2009, p. 116]

A numbing montage of half-formed ideas and too-slick production. [Jul 2003, p.100]

The drab orchestrations offer tepid schmaltz, not romance. [Dec 2002, p.112]

Until they find their own voice, they'll forever be a tribute band. [Mar 2014, p.116]

Their attempts at songwriting here are woeful. [Sep 2007, p.95]

Children moan, accordions groan and Bjork's disembodied voice occasionally growls into earshot. [Sep 2005, p.114]

Joel and Benji Madden's fifth album of anthemic dumbness. [Dec. 2010, p. 110]

It's marooned in novelty. [Apr 2005, p.121]

Where once Of Montreal sparkled, they're now mired in a plodding, asexual beige. [Nov 2013, p.113]

So ill-conceived and shoddily executed it could well finish them off altogether. [Feb 2003, p.102]

A sad waste of everyone's time. [Jun 2009, p.119]

If that hardly sounds like the greatest thing to happen to hip hop in recent times, it's nothing compared to his fourth LP, which is a litany of lazy beats and even lazier rhymes; "Your mama she gets crazy," he instructs on Krazy. [Dec 2009, p. 120]

The problem here isn't sullying Jackson's memory and reputation: he was perfectly capable of doing that himself. The problem is that Michael simply isn't good enough. [Feb. 2011, p. 108]

Nine Track Mind whimpers like a sick kitten. [Mar 2016, p.113]

Singer Jay Gordon spends much of the record predictably preening his way through third-hand Bowie and third-rate Simon LeBon impressions while the band labour on a set of half-baked electro-metal...

Only Haim's contribution to Red Eye enlivens the tedium. [Aug 2013, p.99]

Sloppy, emotion-free, chicken-in-a-basket ballads. [May 2007, p.125]

The only area in which JC tops Justin is cheesy double entendres. [Jun 2004, p.96]

There are no real songs here, only weak gags and unfunny skits. [Jan 2007, p.152]

While the maverick spirit that drives this pair is admirable, it doesn't make the end result any more enjoyable. [Apr 2008, p.102]

[They] continue precisely where they left off on 2002's Static Delusions..., bashing their way through 11 indistinguishable songs without recourse to wit, style or tune. [Jul 2004, p.112]

The title track and Come Out To LA hit home with the impact of a piece of GCSE Social Studies course work. [Apr 2018, p.108]