The seven-, eight- and nine-minute lengths grow as wearing as the man’s past releases always threatened to, without actually losing momentum.

Mica Levi leads her trio through this 28-minute cockeyed burst, each song a bizarre little post-punk contraption that sounds like it’s ready to fly apart and wreak havoc. Yet her debut is also insanely disorienting fun.

Like Confessions on a Dance Floor, Fundamental uses squelchy electro-disco grooves that smuggle sly pop-culture commentary. [Aug 2006, p.83]

While his 2010 solo debut Mshini Wam (translated as Bring Me My Machine Gun) was promising in a guided-by-M.I.A. kind of way, Father Creeper is downright epic.

Interstellar succeeds in expertly appropriating its forebears instead of regurgitating them.

The second duo record by the former Talking Heads frontman and his experimental producing partner is a thoughtful singer-songwriter exercise. [Oct 2008, p.104]

Slay-Z is a very good mini-mixtape, and more than half of it sustains in any formation.

The rhythm sections and synths have been crafted with a newfound appreciation for sound, but with unexpected, childlike curiosity. The lyrics retain a relatable amount of simplicity, yet they also portray an intimate exploration of self-worth and image.

This is a deceptively pretty album in which all of the experiments succeed.

The result is spare and somber--just that windy Americana tenor against a squeaky acoustic guitar.

The band sounds better than ever, too, mounting a muscular four-way attack that captures the immediacy of their frenetic synchronicity better than any non-live album of theirs to date.

Sloan returns with this more digestible 13-song opus, but their essential blandness remains unchanged. [July 2008, p.104]

The Cribs' songs hold up even when slowed down, and they're able to paint outside old lines with the added shadings, nodding to Sonic Youth ("City of Bugs") and the Smiths again ("Save Your Secrets"), while still delivering plenty of their typical Britrock momentum.

Infinity on High reveals a group that has grown so confident with success that the members are willing to give in to their every musical whim. [Feb 2007, p.83]

Venus on Earth feels impulsive and rich, rippling with surf psychedelia and exultant brass swing.

With Strong Arm Steady's MC trio of Krondon, Phil Da Agony, and Mitchy Slick (plus extended fam like Planet Asia, Phonte, and Fashawn) dropping lyrical barbs ("Telegram") and creatively reheated thug-isms ("Needle in the Haystack"), Madlib chops up loops bubbling with quirky humor and analog soul.

The melodramatic tunes masterfully push up against the antihero's downward narrative spiral, making Defamation the rare contemporary album that insists on being heard in full, in sequence, until the story ends.

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

Like Paul McCartney, Crowded House leader Neil Finn possesses a massive melodic gift, but no longer seems interested in writing anthems (à la "Don't Dream It's Over"). That's okay when the results feel as intimate as they do here.

Some songs feel unfinished, especially on disc one. Much of the production on both halves is terribly derivative and some great samples get mangled.

What does one call eight songs in 25 minutes? An EP? A mini-LP? Just don't call it a placeholder--there are too many bulldozer riffs here, even in the under-a-minute sketches.

There are pleasures to be found on SremmLife 2 once you adjust your expectations and realize that it’s not a “No Flex Zone” sequel. Instead, it charts a different but still familiar path: Every youth explosion is eventually tempered by the grind and hard-won rewards of grown-man work.

Ian Parton's picked up Young Guv’s gauntlet and made the power-pop album of the year.

Though the content--our hero purging his heart, a la Marvin Gaye's "Here, My Dear"--ordinarily would be the focus of discussion for a platinum rapper, the musical structure overshadows his attempts at introspection.

The result is minor Mary--strong by many standards, a bit tepid by hers.

No Coast is the work of a proud scene divorcée declaring his allegiance to nothing but verse and chorus. And that's a beautiful thing that too few punks understand.

She’s never more at home than when BJ the Chicago Kid accepts an offer of her “chocolate covered honey” on the closing “Beautiful Love.”

Opener 'Ashes in the Snow' and 'The Battle to Heaven' invoke the CinemaScope bombast of Ennio Morricone, but even their added orchestral heft barely nudges Mono out of a windy, instrumental morass.