On the band's sixth album, they're most comfortable in the spot where Guided by Voices ("Any Other Day") bump into 
the Kinks ("What Faces 
the Sheet") -- slightly psychedelic and frequently sticky, breezily charming and pleasantly woozy.

Little Dark Age is pleasant enough, but it’s hard to look past a glaring dearth of ideas.

Canning's murmuring vocals are more intriguing than engaging, so the album's most memorable qualities are hidden in songs that just tend to drift off.

It mostly works: Shave a couple of the non-Conor tracks and it'd sit comfortably with his best.

His proud croon and the band's surging folk rock mean the emotional effect is closer to rebirth than suicide, but by the time the fourth song to feature a metaphorical drowning rolls around, the string parts start to matter more than the sentiments, which was probably not the intent.

Wiley only occassionally departs from the script. [Oct 2007, p.112]

Is a Woman finds Lambchop turning into America's Tindersticks, replacing songcraft with baroque digressions. [Mar 2002, p.134]

Repentless was never going to be Lulu, though the lack of surprises amongst diminishing returns is almost as bad.

Despite Shelter From The Ash's transcendent drones and trippy, Eastern-inspired guitar figures...[Chasny's] vocals too often kill the buzz. [Dec 2007, p.125]

Connecting blue-haired symphony subscribers to indie-rock bedheads, the twentysomething New York composer is all over the place with his second disc. [Aug 2008, p.106]

The ideal major-label debut for the age of modern-rock insecurity -- think Everclear minus the arrogance. [5/2001, p.141]

Even though the lyrics stay hippy-dippy, there are hard-earned moments of musical release.

Funny how so much controversy can spring up over an album that is, musically, not all that noteworthy.... what could have been a brilliant statement, instead elevates Eminem to the rarified air of true platinum rappers: ie, those that drop outstanding rhymes over frustratingly mediocre beats.

Ghosts' flowing, synth-backed melodies are a vast improvement on 2006's hammy In Our Bedroom After the War, if not 2004's near-perfect Set Yourself on Fire. Cute isn't what Stars aim for, but it's often what they achieve.

Bingham made Junky Star with Crazy Heart collaborator T-Bone Burnett, but the A-list producer mostly resists applying his trademark chamber-roots atmosphere.

Snaith now claims he's taking time to composae songs, rather than winging it out in the studio, and these sticky-pop confections are the result, full of lithe vocals, swooping keyboards, distant drums, and assorted benign flashbacks. [Sep 2007, p.124]

While his unapologetically Dylan-esque vocals grate on weaker tunes, gems like the softly rollicking 'Time is a Lion' allow Henry to step out with a quiet roar. [Oct 2007, p.104]

Melodically, Jakob could've dug a little deeper here, even if he was consciously avoiding radio-ready 'One Headlight' territory. But Seeing Things does manage a few unexpected moments of timeless grace.

It’s more of a mixed bag.

Lazaretto's experimentation sounds ambivalent, its songs fractured and distracted.

Too often on the Antlers' second full-length, their washed-out melodies suggest powerfully memorable hooks that never fully materialize or cohere.

If the Black Keys sped up a little, their stodginess might feel more songful. [Oct 2006, p.94]

Bettencourt's howling power-glam riffs pair well enough with Farrell's alley-cat wail. [Jun 2007, p.95]

Frontman Adam Olenius lobs his bon mots over tunes that borrow from Beck, the Velvet Underground, Bright Eyes, and the Cure. But when Olenius waxes roantic and serves up yet another ace, it's hard to complain. [Oct 2007, p.110]

Though Dilla's rapping is never more than competent, Ruff Draft is still a platform for the versatility of his eccentric genius. [Apr 2007, p.88]

Men's Needs isn't nearly as unique as Jarman thinks, but his tunecraft is often as sharp as his wit. [Aug 2007, p.100]

On the band's seventh studio album, Incubus fully embrace surf-bum balladry.

Here, though, watery, joke-free confessionals like "This Is Home" and "After Midnight" sound comparatively adrift.