Vespertine quietly proves that cutting-edge production and human contact aren't mutually exclusive. [Sep 2001, p.109]

Slipknot make one hell of a racket, an abrasive amalgam of death metal blastbeats and bestial grunting. [Oct 2001, p.130]

This is music that exerts as much effortless cool as young pups The Strokes. [Oct 2001, p.118]

Seal The Deal opens with a rollicking piano intro that's longer than the rest of the song, guitars are abandoned in favour of exhilarating keyboard riffs, and the background use of birdsong and bagpipes is commonplace in Quasi's world. And it's a better place for it.

Despite its spacious and minimal approach, the album is -- in typical Anderson style -- a demanding piece of work. [Sep 2001, p.106]

In an age when marketing departments rule, Scott has fashioned an album of epic intent that gamely goes its own way.

New Favorite is pretty much the usual, if still wonderful, music from Krauss and Union Station. [Sep 2001, p.110]

A much more focused and funky set than Embrya. [Oct 2001, p.127]

Not quite the step forward he needed. [Sep 2001, p.122]

They retained their best ideas for themselves though, since their debut album is striking escape from mere genre. [Review of UK version]

Crow Sit On Blood Tree is a bizarre, schizophrenic, and determinedly unmelodic record that lurches drunkenly from the cascading fury of Burn It Down to the acoustic I'm Goin' Away, in which he sounds like an acid casualty from the original Woodstock.

A bit relentless at times, but Chemical Brothers fans should give it a spin.

An album that's as entrancing as it is modestly proportioned. [June 2002, p.121]

It's gloriously dark and downbeat stuff. [Nov 2001, p.130]

Even when it isn't actually good, this is quality froth. [Sep 2001, p.114]

When it works, it works brilliantly. [Dec 2001, p.120]

This return to blitzkrieg riffing is closer to nu-metal than old Stooges. [Aug 2001, p.136]

It's audacious, sure, but it neither makes sense nor sounds good. [#180, p.102]

A fair bit of filler... [Sep 2001, p.106]

It's a stride towards true excellence. Although likely to remain a cult item, The Beta Band are now easier to embrace than ever, less pastoral and more direc, courtesy of a clear, sharp, intensely rhythmic new sound... [#180, p.97]

A harrowing, clearly autobiographical dissection of a decaying relationship. [Sep 2001, p.109]

The settings are spacious, the rhythms stately and Stuart Staples croons woozily about how it's all gone horribly wrong.

Their sonic ingenuity enhances even the most basic garage-rock templates. [Sep 2001, p.122]

Their most overblown record since 1989's Gold Mother. [Aug 2001, p.130]

At a time when Fatboy Slim has gone chill-out, Orbital have gone noodly, and Underworld, nd Prodigy seem to have just gone somewhere else, Basement Jaxx are, happily, on hand with another brilliantly messy blueprint for UK dance music - and dance music that you can actually dance to, at that.

Tom Jenkinson shares Aphex Twin's mischievous way with a beat but lacks his respect for melody. [Aug 2001, p.141]

Only one track, Call Me, offers second listenability with its funky shuffle drums, Neil Young guitar raunch and doomster attitude... Otherwise, Freel's appeal depends on his ear for interesting noises. [Aug 2001, p.141]

A couple of the songs are grunge by rote, but the art-rock sensibility gleaned from Weiland's old David Bowie albums is evident in the whispered Hell It's Late. [Oct 2001, p.130]