Lacking the bluster and/or baritone to pull off the stumbly, ESL lyrics, Migala's drowsy fables wander aimlessly. [Sep 2001, p.164]

For all its iconoclastic ambition, Sea Lion is a low-key charmer. [Apr 2008, p.102]

Sam Beam's breathy croon is as soothing as a lullaby, but just as limited--which becomes an issue over two discs and 23 songs. Yet that very sameness helps this patchwork of singles, soundtrack cuts, and unreleased tracks cohere.

The new three-piece is no supergroup. Robyn’s best work rises above mere competence, and while every song here will keep people on the dance floor, Love Is Free transcends nothing.

It's pleasant, soothingly warm water, sure, but you probably won't want to soak for too long.

The music may be just as strong, tight, and impeccable--this is a band that's been going at it for more than a quarter of a century, after all--but there's a lightness missing here, a lack of passion.

While the Used honestly want to move away from their time-tested sound, the experiments come off as unfocused and confused. [May 2007, p.90]

Though his global messages aren't particularly deep, his skilled, spirited execution sets him apart from other peacenik troubadours. [Oct 2007, p.101]

Linkin Park's fourth studio album (and second collaboration with producer Rick Rubin) contains plenty of aggressively arty material that might surprise fans of the megapopular rap-rock outfit.

At just under a half-hour (a runtime probably inspired by the days when vinyl records could only contain about 40 minutes of music), Lysandre is a frustrating listen.

Flowers, a collection of mystical-seeming noise collages, absurdist dirges, and Pavement soundalikes, is as listenable as it is difficult to pin down.

Though it manages to be both lovely and adventurous, too often MCIII sounds like Cronin falls back on the string beds instead of utilizing them with the same fervor he used to reserve for crunchy, just-this-side-of-DGAF riffs.

It's uniformly catchy. [Sep 2006, p.102]

Sam's Town is basically Hot Fuss with bigger, spanglier guitars and an all-round lack of restraint. [Oct 2006, p.93]

Loney Dear's gauzy pop can be entrancing, but it's also incredibly easy to tune out: Let your mind wander, and the Swedish act's latest goes full blur.

She renders a sad refrain from a lotto ad on 'State Numbers,' slags CSNY on 'The Lighter Side of...Hippies,' and howls that "a loving woman can have the Devil's face" on the acerbic 'Don't Talk in Your Sleep,' making this the duo's most shambolic effort to date.

On cuts like "How Do I Maintain Pt. 1," the rhythmic interplay gets weighed down by its own excess, but the more expansive clouds of synth exhaust in wordless bookends "Run" and "Reintegration Time" offer more rewarding highs.

Though this is a flawed and scattershot project, Wayne remains an artist who makes music like a patissier--his songs are frivolous, delicious, and meant to be relished for just a moment.

There are pleasures to be found on Walk It Off, and in the context of Tapes 'n Tapes growth as songwriters, the record is a modest breakthrough. [Apr 2008, p.102]

There’s still sunshine (check the gleefully voyeuristic 'Paper Planes'), but frequently it’s obscured by autumnal clouds.

Brooklyn's Crystal Stilts filter trembling surf guitar and tambourine shakes through echoing chambers of effects until their wistful, barely-there tunes seem to dramatically float out of murky, cavernous depths.

On this foursome's fourth collection of infectious indie pop, they downplay the sly smirking of the past. [Sep 2007, p.132]

Thanks to KT Tunstall's compelling whiskey-and-cigarettes voice, everything she tackles demands to be heard -- though not everything here absolutely needs to be.

Fern Knight is a delightfully creepy homage to Celtic-Appalachian tradition, and a compelling subversion of traditional folk structure.

The band’s first studio album in eight years takes the Farfisa-surf luminescence of 2003’s must-own, career-spanning Anthology deeper into psychedelia, for good and ill.

Old-school romantic Ville Valo croons as often as he screams, so that even when aiming for the stylistic median, a bit of local weirdness oozes forth to make Screamworks more interesting than it's designed to be.

Rather than give us a full album of "The Strokes Misremember the '80s," the band falls back repeatedly on self-imitation.

For the most part, Varshons is pleasantly predictable, with celebrity cameos (Kate Moss, Liv Tyler) and selections from legendary rakes Leonard Cohen and Townes Van Zandt that practically qualify as typecasting. But the countrified take on GG Allin's 'Layin' Up with Linda' provides a moment of effective shock value, and improbable redemption arrives with the closing track: Christina Aguilera's 'Beautiful.'