Peñate sometimes goes astray--'So Near' finds him breezily slinging dopey cliches (“Love is not a game”). Fortunately, his natural exuberance carries the day.

The results range from sublime ("Remember") to so-so ("Safe Tomorrow"), while the beat-broken "Move On" and the oscillating breakdown of "Future Tense" keep things inventive.

The album, as intended to be heard, deftly captures the whiplash mood swings of a volatile relationship, showing how giddy exuberance and bitter despair can intertwine.

Never mind that they still haven’t quite figured out the right formula; for all of their renewed gumption, improved production, and flair with the pen, Pity Sex remain limited by their narrow emotional range and over-reliance on their influences.

With his knack for extracting humor from the mundane, Skinner’s the perfect poet for this snooze of a topic.

Stunningly blending American country, English folk, and Victorian pomp, the album documents a life resigned to sadness amid a world brimming with beauty both real and fake.

The arrangements are so ponderous, the vowel-masticating vocal languor so excessive, you almost wish he'd go whole hog and cover "Ave Maria." [Nov 2003, p.117]

Grohl wrote the riffs, and he hammers like a god, letting his hero singers write the lyrics and man the bellows. [Mar 2004, p.91]

The songs are actually strong enough to hold the weight of the over-the-top arrangements. [Jun 2007, p.96]

Slight echoes of her past work seep through, but mostly she's casting a refreshing new spell. [Nov 2007, p.125]

There are a few strong sonic ties to God Complex, specifically the works of producer Louie Lastic, but this album has greater balance. The full spectrum of sound explored is even richer this time around.

Grohl and his pals never set out to write the gospel on modern rock--they only sought to preach it, hammering it into our heads by way of biting hooks and anthemic melodies. There’s more than enough red meat to go around on Concrete and Gold, the band’s ninth album.

Despite being haunted by the group's flip from rock-star charade to reality, Congratulations still brims with mischievous energy.

Producer Left Brain breaks ground on bangers that stitch ambient electronica to cracked G-funk, while Hodgy sports the casual swag of Wiz Khalifa or Lil Wayne, with 
a less cringe-worthy sense of humor than his peers.

Nils Edenloff's passionate songwriting comes across as both raucous (“The Dethbridge in Lethbridge”) and gently sweet (the harmony-rich boy-girl cupcake “Don’t Haunt This Place”), consistently marked by a joyful sonic ingenuity.

This dichotomy between the album’s two bandleaders makes the album an authentically interesting listen instead of a throwaway reunion effort.

With coproducers Brian Eno and Daniel Lanois explicitly included in the songwriting, it's an effort to tinker and rough up and refine anew their music's essence--with nobly sketchy results.

Bliss isn't the Boss' bag. Without anything to push against, one of rock's most eloquent lyricists is in the awkward position of having little of interest to say.

Yet the cameo-packed Olympia shares far more with Ferry's recent solo stuff than it does with Roxy's early-'70s art rock; lusciously arranged lounge-funk workouts.

On Gunz N' Butta, Cam'ron and protégé Vado (a rapper with Gatling-gun nuance) are roiling and abrasive, twisting down a wormhole of multisyllabic rhymes and Araabmuzik's skittering beats.

I Want to Grow Up involves aspirations rather than answers, and thus little is resolved of the album's many inner conflicts. Only the sweet-and-sour music they're set to offers any kind of relief, deep-fried in fuzz and totally stoked for that Juliana Hatfield Three reunion.

Blends the furious muscle of 2001's God Hates Us All with the more melodic experimentation of their post-Reign work. [Sep 2006, p.112]

It’s hard to remember he was once known primarily as a co-founder of chillwave once you’ve emerged dripping from the warm bath of What For?

These tunes dig deeper than the musings of, say, Michelle Branch, but none are groundbreaking or revealing enough to suggest that Pink has learned to navigate the space between fluffy and toughie. [Jan 2002, p.108]

Hot Mess is flush with other stupid-smart highlights, including 'Pete Wentz Is the Only Reason We’re Famous.'

The Other Side of Make-Believe maintains the charm and intrigue that made Interpol indie darlings 20 years ago, but it also finds the band aging gracefully — these brooding New York boys are now men who embrace their emotions.

Vanderslice is tortured and diffuse even by Death Cab standards. [Sep 2005, p.109]

For all of Coldplay’s experimentation, though, there’s no doubting that Viva La Vida, with its sturdy melodies and universal themes--think love, war, and peace--is an album meant to connect with the masses.