Hoffer preserves [Trevor] Horn's professional sheen but not his swinging charm, leaving us with all bathwater and no baby. [Feb 2006, p.86]

A motley crew of producers (Diplo, El-P, Rostam from Vampire Weekend, Drake affiliate Francis Farewell Starlite, one of the dudes from Yeasayer) serves up shinier, harder, louder, thornier beats, and our heroes occasionally respond in kind.

The Julie Ruin’s second full-band album, Hit Reset, slides with similar grace [as “Rebel Girl”] between the personal and political--between funny (or sad) polemic, and sad (or funny) pop romance.

It's his most varied record, but it also sounds for the first time like he's tryinig to make a "Beck album." [Apr 2005, p.97]

His weathered voice has fissured in all the right places.

Totally grimy. [Nov 2004, p.118]

A warm and deeply engaging snapshot of fractured relationships and existential dread. [Aug 2003, p.116]

Cryptic and cutting. [Aug 2004, p.108]

It's a kick to hear them hoist the MC5's "Kick Out The Jams" as a sexy freak flag and drop an honest-to-God fresh conga break into Afrika Bambaataa's "Renegades of Funk." [2/2001, p.106]

The vibrant Revelry is tougher and deeper--the sound of traffic lights reflected through Rolling Rock empties, of clothes permanently reeking of cigarette smoke. [Apr 2002, p.124]

Hazy, almost-there stadium anthems that don't quite fill the stadium. [Sep 2003, p.115]

For what it's worth, Hypnotize is the project's better half. [Dec 2005, p.102]

The Broken String pares down the track list and polishes the best of the EPs. [Sep 2007, p.123]

The album is a dark gem, a high-IQ song cycle that combines guilt, neurotic lust, and low self-esteem into piano-based tunes that come studded with lyrical daggers.

Rae Sremmurd are at their best when they're doing what they want, rather than eschewing their oddities in favor of radio-friendly hooks ("Safe Sex") or buzzword phrasing.

Power in the Blood is the work of an elder working against genre, knowing history, and moving forward into aesthetically unknown territory. For a septuagenarian, the optimism of it is heartening.

Jeremih’s no saint, certainly, but this album feels universal in its depictions of desire--his sexiness is satiable, his desires multifaceted, and the way he chooses to explore them deliberately diverse.

Cost of Living outpaces its predecessor in large because of Downtown Boys’ newfound mastery of dynamics in their performances.

ken, Bejar’s sparest album in terms of lyrical density and length in some time, is an aggressive, well-chiseled shift.

The album manages to balance the extremes and convey the chaos of it all. The sound, which Lee wanted to be bigger and bolder, is both of those things. The anthemic choruses are plentiful and unforgettable, and the instruments explode in a way that hopefully can be played live in the near future, vaccines willing.

This is no mere studio project. The Smile are an actual, organic live band.

Too Late definitely scans as a transitional work, a transfixing moment-in-time sort of recording that sees an unprecedentedly fortified Drake firing off paranoid and power-drunk thoughts from his basement, sounding even lonelier than he does than when he specifically talks about feeling lonely.

The rapper's inborn goofiness just gives his words more bite. [Mar 2005, p.85]

You just wonder how songs this miserable can sound so excruciatingly gorgeous. [Jul 2005, p.104]

An eclectic, rippin' record whose only shortcoming is its commitment to artistic quality. [Apr 2005, p.99]

Like its creator, Matangi is flawed, frustrating, and occasionally confusing, but it's also intermittently brilliant and completely unique.

LaVere sounds like a gifted kidnap victim--scared, angry, resourceful. You just know she's going to set herself free.

Hypnotic and strangely thrilling. [Feb 2007, p.86]