The Odd Couple is basically a more refined "St. Elsewhere," without the rap aberrations or goofy covers that made the debut such a wild, bumpy ride. [Apr 2008, p.91]

Era Extraña picks up as if that criticism (and 2010) never happened. Some tracks sound 25 years old and they're one Martin Rushent assist away from being genuine synth-pop hits.

Call it Everything About The Girl. [Mar 2007, p.99]

Take their third album, Holy Fire: It shreds.

There’s little to be found here with the immediacy of yore, but this ends up working in the album’s favor: the more you give in to these vibes, the more the vibes give back. That goes double for Turner’s lyrics, which are playfully quotable in a manner that recalls the opaque asides of Destroyer’s Dan Bejar.

It's a blessing and a curse that he's never sounded more unhinged. [Oct 2006, p.105]

Sometimes a record is a feast for the soul, and sometimes it’s a dozen chocolate cupcakes.

The moody brass of 'Maundy Thursdays,' the loveless female narrator who opens 'June Evenings,' and the restless whispering in 'Never Content' are all touches that keep the billowing instrumental opulence tethered, affectingly, to humans on the ground.

Finds these mysterious lads already advancing into their suave Roxy Music phase. [May 2005, p.102]

Easy Tiger plays like a tightly focused best-of compilation from Adams' past six or seven efforts. [Jul 2007, p.96]

There’s no shortage of potential DJ weaponry on Homesick, but what makes the album truly impressive are the cuts where Matrixxman gets out of his presumed comfort zone and steps away from the club.

Addictive listening. [Aug 2006, p.80]

Of course it's nothing new, but Guided by Voices' precision messes are their own reward. [Aug 2002, p.110]

Selmasongs becomes a deeper listen after you've seen Dancer In The Dark.... But even without its proper context, the album is evidence of Bjork's unstoppable growth. [Nov. 2000, p.197]

He's one of the four or five best MCs breathing. [Aug 2004, p.103]

The lyrics chew as much as they bite, and the music -- ranging from twangy jazzisms to raucous blues rock -- lets Costello honor his roots while still showing off what he picked up at the conservatory. [May 2002, p.118]

The gripping Strangelet strives for a tricky balance of darkness of light... and mostly succeeds, thanks to the raw charisma of Phillips' hangover vocals. [Apr 2007, p.94]

Oh (Ohio)'s languid chamber folk murmurs as expected with Wagner sketching vivid relationship dramas like a master painter. Should it all sound overly proper, a closer listen revals sly humor in the details. [Nov 2008, p.96]

At War is gnarlier and a bit less tuneful than the group's previous two CDs. But the arrangements, and Dave Fridmann's signature blend of clarity and overmodulation, remain intricately weird. [Apr 2006, p.89]

If you're looking for a record that'll make you wanna trash your beloved's belongings and have make-up sex amid the ruins, 21's your jam.

They’re caustic and incendiary as hell, but they’re also unbelievably fun, an exciting and rare quality in music this visceral.

Gibbs elevates this eight-song EP above '90s-gangsta-rap homage with his baritone-deep hauteur and studious lyricism.

At times, Lidell seems determined to overcrowd his genuinely soulful and lyrically strong music, whether it's with silly, pitched-down vocals ("Your Sweet Boom"), laptoppy clicks, squiggles, and washes ("She Needs Me"), or blasts of aggro rock ("You Are Walking").

Both seem to be having a blast acting out their fantasies,, which makes Volume One consistent fun. [Apr 2008, p.102]

Hollywood brooder Ryan Gosling doesn't reverse the rule that actors make dubious pop musicians (see Keanu, Jared Leto, ScarJo), but his rickety collaboration with budding thespian Zach Shields has an undeniable dark charm.

The ten songs here are a euphoric whirl of church choirs, lushly layered cymbals, poppy clap tracks, and heady psych rock, evoking peers like Tough Alliance and Tanlines.

Those Darlins open up their sound even more -- to '60s girl groups, surf-punk guitar, and song structures that imagine the Quarrymen wanting to be Patsy Cline instead of Buddy Holly

Here, they’ve crafted a shag and wood-grained interior as remarkably indebted to its predecessors as it is now warm and full and huge.

Early exploits including a ridiculous rhyme about T-Rex amorousness ("Dinosaur Sex"), jabs at vapid art-school scenesters ("Art Bitch" and "!Franchesckaar!"), and some indecipherable indie-dance vocoding ("I Wanna Be Darth Vader"). True Romance is a strident departure from those frivolities so far as solid, true-to-aim songwriting is concerned, but the divergence and a touch of the silliness remains.

A real corker. [Nov 2006, p.96]

Skirting the emotional depths that marked his past work, Callahan's new persona feels almost shallow. [May 2007, p.84]

Buraka assemble Jamaican dancehall, Brazilian favela beats, South African ghetto-tech, and video-game ear candy like colorful Lego blocks on an earthy yet impeccably crafted working-class fiesta for dance-floor zombies and vampires of all nations.

Given Alison Mosshart's recent adventures with the Dead Weather (and Jamie Hince's escapades with fiancée Kate Moss), it's no shock that the new Kills record presents a more expansive sound from the London-based blues-punk duo.

So, backed by melancholic, electronic-tinged production from Dnae Beats, Gab fashions inspired stories out of loquacious speed-raps, ruminating over humanity's foibles. It may not be transporting, but it's still impressively empathetic.

Two Matchsticks evokes the Everly Brothers' sibling intimacy, but Kenny's lonely campfire songs cling to a limited number of minor keys, similar tempos, and virtually identical arrangements.

Joyously addictive mutual self-destruction is what Do It Again is all about.

An ecstatic, angry, gorgeously mournful manifesto. [Jan 2007, p.89]

John K. Samson's imagistic descriptions of loneliness, desperation and yearning--which avoid the goofiness that plagues, say, Fountains of Wayne--are fleshed out with chiming guitars and warm synths. [Oct 2007, p.112]

He cuts through Slime & reason's rudeboy grime with poker-faced nerve. [Nov 2008, p.100]

Bellowing hoarsely while ivories tinkle and muted guitars gently twang, he comes across like a scenery-chewing Method actor marooned in a stoic Ingmar Bergman flick.

Principe doesn’t carve any revolutionary niches on or off the dance floor so much as it patiently, oh so patiently, chips away at Thomas’ own reputation as a space-disco purveyor

This is serious music. Albarn has stated that this is his most personal record and he ain't kidding.

Their debut LP for Thrill Jockey feels more tightly composed.

The sound is too slick by half, but Craig Finn's rhymes still resonate.

The pleasure they provide is difficult to dismiss; there’s so much life in these new songs, formula or not.

Welch may never do anything as dangerous and uncouth as "Kiss" ever again. But even the threat of menace works wonders on terrific follow-up Ceremonials.

Talkie Walkie 's detachment is still, well, pretty -- virgins might commit suicide to it, but most likely they'll just swoon.

H.N.I.C. Pt. 2 is a real downer, but it's also completely gripping. [Apr 2008, p.102]

Believe it or not, though, this appealingly lightweight set of funky robo-rock jams actually makes good on Homme's promise.

Not all moods suit Andersson--the sultry, overdramatic 'Locusts Are Gossiping' falls flat--but she builds enough goodwill elsewhere that you’ll want to hear her try everything.

The fifth album from this Portland, Oregon quartet (recently expanded from a married duo) is swathed in misty silver-and-blue atmospherics, but it's the songwriting, hooks, and escalating thrum of a capable rock band that pull listeners from each twinkling vista to the next.

Khan's trashy Sam Cooke and Bo Diddley impersonations are uncannier than ever, but it's Invisible Girl's ratio of 1960s tribute to 21st-century blaspheming that makes it his most immediately enjoyable work yet.

Super rates as less essential than 2013’s marvelous Electric because I don’t hear another “Thursday” or “Love Is a Bourgeois Construct,” no grand conceptual coups like their Springsteen cover.

It's difficult to sound this vintage without coming off as contrived, but Alela Diane, her guitarist/producer father, and assorted friends tap into folk archetypes that are often opaquely generalized but always disarmingly pure.

The sound is old-fashioned, but the fury is fresh.

Amid all that cultural confusion basking in a neon glow, Mala in Cuba is a welcome relief, an artist reveling in his uncertainty and building it into something original and authentic.

'Shake the Devil' purrs with a Ray Charles-worthy retro R&B beat and the furious nonvegan chorus of 'Shake that Pig!' [Nov 2008, p.88]

Glasgow quartet Glasvegas are a product of this world--frontman James Allen is even a former semipro footballer--and their remarkable debut gives voice to its fears, frustrations, and heartaches without succumbing to its cliches.

The Luca Brasi Story was more ambitious, but Stranger Than Fiction does moves Gates closer to a larger audience.

The Desired Effect is another gingerly step into the present, Flowers’ present. No one knows how he feels or what he says until you read between his lines.

More hooks (and cowbell) make Smile the band's most accessible album, but Boris haven't softened. [May 2008, p.94]

If it's not yet clear, Centipede does retain much of the band's earnest, knowing naiveté.

When it works best, as on the now globally ubiquitous “Hello” or the show-stopping “All I Ask” (featuring a rending, diva-appropriate performance for the ages), 25 delivers the kind of timeless vibes people have come to expect from Adele, even though the first-person narratives in her songs often still feel oddly generic.

On their eighth album, spouses Brett and Rennie Sparks continue to put a brilliantly surreal twist on everyday subjects, using nature imagery to evoke the weird intensity of all-consuming passions.

Anchored by four tracks from a previous EP that were re-recorded with the hooks highlighted, this nimble full-length wrings catharsis from pop with no lapses into pretension.

This is oval-shaped music, circling around the tracks; it’s accomplished, but not particularly infectious.

XTC proudly displays its roots while subsuming them into a larger sound, one that is wholly their own.

Music tailor-made for the world's hippest elevators. [Nov. 2000, p.200]

The whole thing is pretty, if a bit mild, suggesting not quite another green world, but something ideal for--as its cover art suggests--watching autumnal leaves turn.

From chintzy keyboards to karaoke-style performances, Maus exaggerates the stereotypically artificial to tap into something real.

The best thing about Unbreakable is that it proves Janet can still surprise us.

Fortunately, buried beneath the Lips' psychedelic slop heap are surprisingly exacting pop hooks, clever musical experiments, and insidious grooves that belie the band's wastrel image.

For their second album as a duo, longtime collaborator John Parish gave Harvey finished songs to write lyrics for, and his sometimes brittle, sometimes thundering guitar work provides the skeleton for an array of fleshly narrators.

The duo's relentless cool never quite tips over into White Stripes-style heat, giving Midnight Boom the unapproachable, icy allure of a runway model. [Mar 2008, p.104]

If the lyrics are getting all the attention on Digital Garbage, it’s only because the music is exactly what you’d expect. Mudhoney’s sound hasn’t changed much since the early ‘90s. ... Mudhoney are comfortable with themselves to a fault.

I Bet on Sky is the sound of a great, influential band that, yes, picked up where they left off, but instead of luxuriating in the sentimental hue of the moment, got back to work and kept moving forward.

Pearl may have studied Karen O's textbook, but when her bandmates rev up a proper garage-rock racket, she dives in like she was born with her own irresistible rock-star sneer. [Jul 2006, p.82]

Here, he just wrecks shit... occasionally stopping for moments of necessary reflection. [Sep 2005, p.109]

Tobin vigorously assumes the avant-garde mantle. [Apr 2007, p.96]

Her lazily smoky voice has its bitterly harsh moments, but her coolly analytical self-awareness stings the most.

Surprisingly subdued. [Mar 2007, p.86]

A few moments of uncomplicated clarity (a stirringly memorable hook or clarion-call chorus) would elevate ExitingARM from brilliant mess to true pop genius.

The endlessly quotable single 'Little Bit'--"For you I keep my legs apart / And forget about my tainted heart," the singer coos over spare electro clatter--is already a viral smash, but much of Li Lykke Timotej Zachrisson's debut is nearly as riveting.

Though McBean, who also leads Vancouver spliff-rockers Black Mountain, invites a slew of guests with diverse musical associations (Jackie-O Motherfucker, Thee Silver Mt. Zion, Whiskeytown), the album still yawns with homogeneous campfire acoustics.

They blaze with scene-satiric brilliance. [Sep 2005, p.109]

Darnielle's signature frantic strum is all but absent, replaced by languid tempos and quiet full-band arrangements. [Sep 2006, p.108]

Flashing all the (slight) overreach of a much-anticipated debut album, After Robots still exuberantly delivers.

Upside Down Mountain is a curious, if occasionally disturbing pleasure to listen to. Just don't expect answers when you turn it right side up.

The abundance of spacey synths and clattering, reverbed percussion makes Thank Me Later feel like ideal cruising music for a ramshackle UFO, but it also incorporates dynamics like few other hip-hop albums before it.

Dead Ringers embraces zero-gravity keyboards, clean vocals, and the spaced-out guitar sprawl of the best Popol Vuh records. It’s the farthest he’s gone from traditional metal signifiers, but it’s proof that inky bleakness is no heavier than blinding light.

The pace and tenor occasionally resemble the Bataan Death March, but Bondy’s gorgeous melodies, vivid imagery, and haunting voice keep you pressing on.

The song structures are Mazzy-like acoustic webs that gingerly frame her longings. [Dec 2001, p.162]

And this is how Amnesiac goes, or doesn't: Resonant, dusty somethings, not much on their own, line up and aggregate into something fluid and sweetly steady. [Jul 2001, p.124]

Unfortunately, the elements that clicked so well on "Giuliani" prove an awkward fit on !!!'s sophomore full-length. [Jul 2004, p.111]

From the stark bass-thump to the low-riding pacing, from Erick Sermon's blaxploitative strings on "Double Time" to Dre's tinny march on "X," the tracks complement his tales of 'hood trivia. [2/2001, p.107]

For all the paradoxical production agendas in play, Mr. West’s guiding hand in constructing the album’s boldly going flow is everywhere in evidence. As glacially paced, mood-enhancing music, Pablo is a hypnotic slam-dunk.

Packed with these canny connections between music and lyrics, Cupid highlights Hynes' tremendous recent advancement as an arranger.

A melodic improvement on their 2007 debut, Return of the Century could pass for breezy escapism, thanks to mellow vocalists Edward Anderson, Caroline Donovan, and Jeanine O'Toole; but the songs' unreliable narrators invariably exhibit dismissive, selfish attitudes toward friends and lovers.