The Dead of the World holds firm to the orthodox occult black metal machinations we’ve come to expect.

Predictable and immaculately produced, these arena-shakers offer a familiar brand of Jersey cheese, but where Jon Bon Jovi once was kind of quixotic ('Livin' on a Prayer'), he's more contemplative than ever, turning out meditations like 'Live Before You Die' ("There'll come a day when you have to say hello to goodbye").

Boss finds the duo still feral but also forlorn. [Oct 2007, p.106]

Lasers works best when the grabby hooks, electro beats, and conscious rap rants are all turned down a notch.

As defiant as this gang of four wants to be, they can't help but humbly return to their strengths.

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

When [Ethan Miller] bellows, "Lord, have mercy on my soul," the result is hokey, irresistible fun.

Of course, it’s much too much, but the fact that it works at all is a testament to their commitment to well-honed rock hypnosis. Good luck finding the front door when it’s done.

The Less You Know, the Better 
is equal parts frustrating and admirable.

Agreeably chunky guitar pop. [Nov 2006, p.102]

Echoes, Silence, Patience and Grace is another quality entry in a fantastically average career.

With peaks and valleys, Stay Paid is patchwork, but Dilla's brilliance remains stunningly apparent.

All that pep blots out the undercurrent of longing that made their best '80s songs complicated and bittersweet. [June 2001, p.155]

As usual, though, Willett also tries to showcase his brainpower, clumsily referencing works most commonly studied in AP literature....But the four-song EP is perfectly short; if you focus on the sturdy tunes and ignore the pseudo-smartness, it's plenty sweet, too.

A workmanlike pop album, vocally immaculate and sonically au courant, but seldom more than functional.

[They] downplay the hip-hop boom-bap... in favor of busy pop jams that mirror the overstimulation of 21st-century life. [Apr 2007, p.93]

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.

SZA isn't lost when sharing a song with big names, but she doesn't seem interested in pulling them entirely into her own world either.

Whether or not you've made your peace with the datedness of Indie Cindy, as well as the sheer pile of things you did not want to see the band do, are you going to put it on repeat? More than you think, but less than they hope.

When things are going right, she reverentially nods to the sumptuous aesthetic that defined Marvin Gaye's What's Going On; when her form slips, it's like Dido gone "groovy." [Jul 2006, p.82]

The Watson Twins' songwriting isn't quite as memorable as their singing; too many of the tunes fade into open-mic background fare.

They’re about the feeling--everything tween inside every grown adult, and thus they are still unmistakably Carly even as she tries on new sounds. When Dedication falters it’s in the latter half, where her producers seem to be trying to chase pop, or at least Spotify “airplay,” by making her sound like everyone else.

It's a Wonderful Life comes off like a Magical Soft Mystery Bulletin. Yet, those iridescent orchestrations seem to be covering for the underdeveloped dirges that dominate the album. [Oct 2001, p.127]

Recommended for anyone who finds Beth Orton too raucous. [Nov 2007, p.125]

The album works best when Black's mood swings between Technicolor dreams and depressing quotidian details.

For the first solo album under his nom de tune, Scott Kannberg eschews the catchy cacophony of his earlier bands--Pavement and Preston School of Industry--for breezily quirky '70s country-pop and late-'60s psychedelia that's two parts Lindsey Buckingham and one part Roky Erickson.

An L.A. album in all senses of the term -- pretty, temperate, and incredibly surface. [Aug 2001, p.138]

The final result is an agreeable enough listen.