Supergrass' Gaz Coombes and Danny Goffey deliver 12 blasts of stylistic tinkering that never subsume the songs' original intent: to rock.

Amid overwrought theatrical gestures, MJB still finds a slinky groove.

Belle and Sebastian's latest full-length succeeds in pointing out societal injustices with just enough sweetness to lighten the bitter frustration lurking within. And yet, at times the endless flutes, synths, and strings risk of giving the listener a cavity.

While the band itself might still be metal newcomers, their music goes down like an aged mead, and Void Worship is an early contender to be one of 2014's most satisfying drams of doom.

This is Jonas’ complication: talking his way into, and then through, sexual minefields. The theme suits his peculiar pipes--the jutted-jaw pout, the texture he scratches into his more insistent notes--which, in turn, take the burden from the compositions.

King Buzzo, et al.'s 19th studio album is downright sugary, a sludge-pop romp that mostly plays like a distortion-charred version of the Bay City Rollers or Sweet.

The songs appeal broadly, but they're tailor-made for two people.

Gonzalez sings mostly about memories (occasionally unintelligibly), but refuses to accept that some dramatic gifts don't necessarily have to be exhausting. Still, the album is full of goose-bump moments

The hooks are stronger, the production richer, and the scale grander. [May 2007, p.84]

Rich Forever, the mixtape teaser for his forthcoming God Forgives, I Don't, is quite successful at doing nothing new at all.

Slivers of banjo, rattles, kalimba, and what sounds like a coffee percolator swirl across winsome exotica minitures. [Nov 2008, p.93]

Tidy and concise, clocking in at 43 minutes, it favors the diminutive gesture to the cloying, hammy affectation that derailed so much of his prior discography.

Buoyed by girlfriend and former Dirty Projector Angel Deradoorian and ex-Ponytail drummer Jeremy Hyman, Tare has plenty to bounce off of here.

Dawson keeps Thunder Thighs from becoming too precious or intense.

Rap's most hotly anticipated debut works best if you don't think of it as a rap album at all.

While the album is more a series of word puzzles than a memoir, it does occasionally illuminate the man behind the mask.

Here Be Monsters sounds like a fleshed-out band, graced with Mekons-derived musical trademarks.

Offering a vision more golden age than apocalypse, Thundercat's music sparkles, and the effect is both lovely 
and overwhelming.

Warrior is likable enough, but not only can't it match its predecessor, it's not nearly as exhilarating or disruptive as what fellow slizzered California trashdancer Dev or assorted K-poppers have done in the past two years with basically the same raw materials.

Thankfully, their debut album does little to clarify the group's intriguingly eclectic sound.

Beneath the arena-friendly sonics and the streamlined storytelling of Teeth Dreams lies the same old band that kicked off their very first number with a little bit of Mott The Hoople self-mythology, that fist-pumping Hold! Steady! chant within "Positive Jam."

I'm Having Fun Now is all whimsical, tongue-in-cheek cutesiness, but with songs this sugary, it'd be churlish to complain. Rilo Kiley's Jenny Lewis and singer-songwriter/boyfriend Johnathan Rice have both had their moments of pure-pop confection in the past, but never as crazily delicious as here.

Fever Daydream is a surprisingly assured debut that, at the very least, evokes electronic music of the past and present.

Preparations will leave you dizzy and wondering what it all means-- which may be the point. [Nov 2007, p.124]

Nelson makes his competition sound like thin parodies... he burns the melody down to ashes, never letting a howl do what a moan can do better. [Nov. 2000, p.208]

Four albums on, Mike Stroud and Evan Mast have barely altered their instrumental electro/indie/hip-hop hybrid, except to expand and refine its tasteful details.

On this solo-ish debut, though, he gives that funk factor full reign, recruiting pals Karen O and David Byrne to sing over synthed-up disco-rock that's brighter and bouncier than his main band's anxious throb. Maximum Balloon deflates when Sitek switches into avant-cabaret mode.

Here, perhaps his most deft rhythm section (Clutch drummer Jean-Paul Gaster and Rezin bassist Jon Blank) acts as a liberating army -- trad doom, hardcore tempos, mathematic instrumentals, and a Fugazi lope ("Wild Blue Yonder") coexist perfectly with his famously piercing, rounded guitar tone. It's change any hesher could believe in.