While his latest album is obviously rooted in Nielson’s present, it still brims with the same introspective nostalgia that comes with dusting off those old memories, and old records.

As halting, spare, and downbeat as its predecessor was giddy, verbose, and, okay, downbeat. [Jul 2001, p.125]

It’s not quite as satisfying as Kaleidoscope Dream, but it expands that album’s palette, pushing Miguel into further depths without submerging him in the squalor.

Rancid is a roots record, scouring off any glossy residue left from the Alternative '90's by returning to pure punk... [Nov. 2000, p.209]

There's a simultaneously appealing and slightly off-putting looseness to all this, conjuring the sort of drowsiness where you'd rather sleep for a week straight than let in more heartbreak.

Rather than diluting Lewis' appeal, the mainstream-accessible, arena-sized sound of Eclipse feels like it's unlocking the potential for Lewis to reach new heights with his indie-dressed soul-pop.

Fortunately, buried beneath the Lips' psychedelic slop heap are surprisingly exacting pop hooks, clever musical experiments, and insidious grooves that belie the band's wastrel image.

We need to find a way to smoke this.

The Devil's Walk creates a compelling mix of programming virtuosity, songcraft, and plaintive vocals, with spastic blips fluttering amid languid string washes, while a 
mechanical scrim obscures and accentuates the underlying emotions.

Her best album-length-EP since Quarantine remains instrumental, but now skitters jazzily.

An emphatic and generally more unbuttoned sophomore project. The “surrender” here appears to be two-pronged: First, a submission to the songwriting process itself, as this record is markedly more explorative than the last, particularly in its crunching British rock sensibilities. ... Many of the album’s most affecting moments accompany her urgency to hit the road.

She continues that trend on Sling, where she explores musical terrain that’s completely new to her. Though Antonoff’s production sometimes feels like it’s holding Clairo back a bit too much, that doesn’t impede Clairo from writing excellent songs. Sling is further proof of that.

There are expected blips of Fiery playfulness -- pinballing "bop bop" vocals, backward-masked beats -- but this is as straightforwardly evocative as abstract pop gets, with the hazy beauty and fractured narratives of a vintage Polaroid slide show.

Every musical stroke is a concise yet instinctive caress.

New Magnetic Wonder couldn't be brighter if it had been performed on the sun. [Feb 2007, p.82]

A short, precise album which is equal parts inventive and masterful.

Kvelertak reach further back on their epic third album Nattesferd, which sounds more like 2016 metal rode a time machine back to the ‘70s and ‘80s to see what blood-curdling shrieks could do for the likes of bar-band glam and proggy power-metal.

A rousing, enjoyable pastiche from start to finish, Thirteen Tales is an awful lot of fun...

Gracefully melancholic electronica with too much soul to be relegated to sushi-restaurant background music. [Aug 2007, p.106]

Khan's trashy Sam Cooke and Bo Diddley impersonations are uncannier than ever, but it's Invisible Girl's ratio of 1960s tribute to 21st-century blaspheming that makes it his most immediately enjoyable work yet.

Whether struggling with sobriety or confronting her own meanness, Pink has never been less cool: She's hot-blooded throughout, and it suits both her pipes and a female pop genre that rarely embraces this much tangible pain.

Often gorgeous and never soothing, the damaged pop on Phantogram's mesmerizing debut is pure nightmare fuel.

Like all Baker’s work so far, Little Oblivions is an album that rewards close listening and multiple run-throughs — afternoons lost to foot-tapping despair and, hopefully, some catharsis as the wildly talented songwriter welcomes us back to her saddest show on Earth.

A magic carpet of woven steel, Transverse soars up and out, borne aloft on ghostly vocals and sheets of guitar noise.

The lack of in-your-face future-funk arrangements isn't a sign that Beyoncé has lost her appetite for domination; indeed, as a singer's showcase, 4 will probably end up bested this year only by Adele's 21.

It's the perfect summer record--if your summer begins with your dad running off with his secretary and your girlfriend dumping you for that asshole lifeguard at the water-slide park. [Jul 2002, p.107]

It's a completely exhausting listen, one that might prove easier to admire than enjoy. But at the very least, it's never anything less than fascinating.

Yo La Tengo remain true to their Velvet Underground roots. [Oct 2006, p.105]