She may sing about her belief in herself faltering, but her sincerity is actually stronger than ever. The victory here isn't just that Nikki Nack betters Whokill by beefing up its feral ferocity with more sophisticated chops, or that she triumphed over her detractors by proving she hadn't already peaked. Garbus found power in a hopeless place.

This record isn't as masterful as the last, partially because they're trying out new things, many of which -- horns, vocals, ska(!) -- are old things. [Jul 2001, p.134]

They offer a survey of rock’s history, but their take is revisionist.

The strangest and most ambitious album yet by the electronic composer and producer born Daniel Lopatin. For all its references to the past, Age Of is a distinctly 21st-century collage. ... When the Baroque arpeggios that close “The Station” enter a lockstep reminiscent of his synth-drone score for the 2017 thriller Good Time, for instance--it’s a musical thrill that renders questions about historical fidelity irrelevant.

The real strength here is the feline sharpness of Lambert's voice.

Though A Brief Inquiry is just as dizzying and disorienting as 2016’s heroically omnivorous i love it when you sleep, for you are so beautiful yet so unaware of it, the 1975 take themselves a little more seriously now.

We Are KING’s quiet moments have more churn than most bands’ fast ones.

The way What a Time to Be Alive zooms by, there are songs you might blink and miss if McCaughan weren’t writing some of the most sharply worded lyrics of his career.

What remains Bruun’s strongest suit is the way she juxtaposes the extremity of her influences. She comes out of more subdued sections to use blast beats like scare tactics, drops in glacial vocal harmonies as soothing lullabies.

The swathe of great moments here is impressive. .... Indeed, Trixies might be the duo’s personal masterpiece.

Troubled frontman Anthony Green and his mates have embraced glossier production while reconnecting with At the Drive-In's teeming passion.

No one song sticks out so prominently this time around, but that’s just because Star Wars works so well as a cohesive whole.

His first Music Tapes album in nine years suggests an unhealthy obsession with Brian Wilson's "SMiLE," the wobbly-voiced outsider makes his own quaint magic.

Despite the fact that Carnell appears on the cover of his own record drained of both pigment and life, this record’s full of both--moments of calm that justify the storm, peaceful lapping waves that follow the tempest.

Amedeo Pace's wailing, overemotive tenor invites the mess of Blonde Radiohead jokes the band will inevitably receive. [Apr 2007, p.86]

Nosaj’s remarkable, entrancing debut album gathers sundry influences, from U.K. dubstep to Aphex Twin-styled IDM, into a 36-minute computerized symphony.

These songs never reach catharsis or resolution to their grand queries, but nonetheless find moments of joy in the process of seeking answers.

A generous, pacifistic record about the dynamics of friendship and the grace of listening--both, however coincidentally, apt palliatives for a tense, hostile global moment.

Though rife with standout tracks, GUMBO! is greater than the sum of its parts. Siifu’s ambitious range and impressive pool of features create an otherworldly listening experience, only bolstered by accessories like the poetry of Dungeon Family’s Big Rube.

He still enigmatically declares solidarity with the urban proletariat and critiques pop-culture clichés, but Black Up impresses most with its beguiling sounds.

Hive Mind remains as soulful as ever, weaving disparate sounds and textures without feeling erratic; it’s moving even at its most minimal.

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]

Perceive is ethereal, sure, but it’s also multilayered and compelling, staving off New Age-ness with pensive beauty and trenchant spoken-word (Saul Williams, Elucid, Anum Iyapo).

B’lieve bears a much closer resemblance to Vile’s true breakout, 2011’s Smoke Ring for My Halo. But even though the late-night atmosphere carries over, the haze isn’t quite the same.

The Whole Love feels more of a piece with 1999's Summerteeth, the caustic pop opus on which Tweedy sped away from alt-country (or y'allternative, No Depression, whatever) in a car far sleeker (and blacker) than the one Hank Williams supposedly died in.

Presided over by Molly Siegel--a fiery young Yoko Ono impersonator--the disc is precocious but never precious, combining a smart, Juno-esque appreciation of old-school punk that steers clear of mere revivalism.

Once it all sinks in, the self-released approach, scrapped-together band, and 29-minute running time should only shock those who expected this to be a huge statement by Grace on anyone's terms but her own. This is no rock opera, no American Idiot, no novelty.

They're still not so great at turning their majesitc heft and pushy paradiddles into memorable songs with hooks. [Oct 2006, p.100]