Ladyhawke’s long-awaited Wild Things is both a Tegan and Sara-worthy fever dream and a Little Boots-ian collection of expertly rendered synthesized-rock.

The result is a nightmarish mess, but it's no relapse into disarray.

The Heat pay homage to punky Midwest weirdos from Devo to Brainiac over grimy fuzz bass. [May 2003, p.116]

Expends a lot of energy hating the haters and growling at the gold diggers. [Jan 2003, p.99]

This stunning Dane's synths-plus-strings slant on singer-songwriter lovesickness offers refinement over innovation, yet Nanna Øland Fabricius beguiles with a gently insistent presence.

Zoom in on this overproduced second album, dripping with newly emboldened lyrical pretensions, and you'll find cracks in the enjoyable cliches. [Jun 2007, p.91]

Their sophomore effort, the result of a song cycle commissioned by WNYC DJ John Schaefer, shows a thoughtful maturation from winsome debut Taller Children.

Depending on your disposition, former Moldy Peach Kimya Dawson is either endearingly naïve or impossibly irritating. Parents who fall into the former camp could do worse than this children's album (it beats Kidz Bop!), but caveat emptor when uptight grandparents are around.

The thrills come when he jumps off the cross and gets on the dance floor. [Nov 2001, p.129]

In those rare moments when they're truely wired, Texas' odd couple bring quirky soul to the music of machines. {mar 2008, p.102]

Not Without a Fight bobs and weaves between chugga-chugga riffs and poppy lead licks, with Jordan Pudnik's well-meaning whine bouncing off Chad Gilbert's more assertive (and appealing) bark.

Aneurysm drumming and Offsprung power chords mimic the tiffs of teenage L-U-V. [Nov 2001, p.129]

As over the top as all this can be, Amputechture has little of the thrash influence that's made modern prog so deadening, and the impenetrable lyrics... are easily overlooked. [Sep 2006, p.104]

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

Embrace Maximo for being smarter than most or just shimmy along. Either works.

Their swirl of guitars and organ is even more densely alluring, but the arrangements let in some welcome light. [Oct 2005, p.137]

Compared to the sleek, grandiose flash of Coldplay's last two albums—Viva La Vida and Mylo Xyloto, both underlined by help from Brian Eno--Ghost Stories feels as melancholically light and airy as Parachutes, while ironically sounding more like Eno.

The now-24-year-old's voice may be simple, but it's distinctive--and as defiant as her album titles.

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]

Blunt and crass, 2013’s Black Panties is all about selling nostalgia for a bygone age of hard-body sexist black machismo that Barack Obama is, in his own quiet way, helping to deflate.

The processed guitar-based tracks on Rug don't quite rollick or shimmer, but with Alanis it's the lyrics, not the music, that count. [Apr 2002, p.114]

Stunning pop for pale after-party people. [March 2003, p.119]

Johnson uses his brain instead, bumming over the war, airplane turbulance, and the widespread deterioration of manners on chewy, Moog-speckled ditties that reveal an arty streak he's kept secret until now. [Feb 2008, p.94]

On record, though--and particularly this one, which presents churchy performances in mixes both realistic and surreal--these same Up With People tropes don't work as well, particularly with prolonged exposure, as inferior follow-ups to promising debuts by the Polyphonic Spree and I'm From Barcelona have proven.

Very little here could be accused of being twee; Folds sounds invigorated to have a rock band behind him again, making him play harder, sing harder, be harder.

It's slight and, even at its liveliest, inconsequential. [Jul 2007, p.92]

Here We Stand is tantalizing, but that's all. [July 2008, p.102]

A 20-minute appetizer that's short, sharp, and impressively tart.