Doing away with his human human voice entirely in favor of an android’s syrupy drawl would seem like a logical next step for Sakamoto’s music, and it’s tempting to wonder what Love If Possible would sound like if he’d further indulged his more experimental tendencies.

It's a small, controlled, uncommonly focused album, by an artist well into the kind of middle age that prizes refinement and brevity.

Defying logic, the famously productive Robert Pollard is getting even more prolific with age.

Chopped gives a thrilling, real-time glimpse into one of indie's true adventurers creating her legacy on the fly.

Knopf’s unpredictable melodies and funky orchestral arrangements (played by 35 indie- rock acquaintances!) keep tracks like 'I Say Fever' and 'Always Right' lively, resulting in an album that leans more toward epic than emo.

Slow burners like "Dying Slowly" and "Sweet Release" smolder like Chesterfields in the rain. [Sep 2001, p.164]

When any of Hinterland‘s nine disco-punk tracks gets in the pocket, the bass, guitar, and drums could run out for a half-hour, remaining insistent in their funk without breaking stride or sagging in momentum.

Sometimes, as on the Velvets-y vacuum of "Evol," the trio merely imitate instead of inhabit. But those moments are redeemed by many others that prove original thoughts aren't always necessary for a gritty good time.

Essentially a synthesis of the various phases of the band's career. [Jul 2006, p.85]

Much has been made of Yelawolf's Southern rock fandom, but Radioactive is more an ode to the Southern hip-hop movement that started to seep across the world a decade ago.

The product of a joyously short attention span. [Jul 2007, p.92]

Bragg gets the balance of message and music just about right. [May 2008, p.94]

The title track is a garrulously burbling treat, but the piano-led whale song 'Seal Eyeing' reveals the group as comfy at the deep end of their sound pool.

He sounds too lecherously happy to reach the emotional depth of his best work, but for lessons in proto-Brit-rock, he remains a top authority. [June 2008, p.119]

Moonwink's manic tunes are miniature rock'n'roll extravaganzas, with intricate melodies and airtight, detailed arrangements providing a dramatic setting for chamingly woozy singer Nick Krill. [Nov 2008, p.102]

Laufer flushes out the dark corners of last year’s blushingly sexy No More EP with velvet-voiced rapper Jeremih, turning it into his most ambitious and cinematic album yet.

Much of the rest is hollow pop-punk; nothing New Found Glory or Simple Plan hasn’t already repurposed many times over. Without its F-bombs, the sugary title track could be a JoJo Siwa song. But as we collectively emerge (again) from the pandemic, with hope to reclaim some semblance of easy fun, Love Sux is a fine soundtrack. The production is slick, Lavigne’s vocal is unwavering and loaded with just enough attitude.

Their creepy, absorbing third album brims with the brittle pop practiced by everyone from Sparks to Arcade Fire. [Nov. 2007, p.125]

Confident, intimate, and weirdly glammy, Life of Pause is worth taking five for.

The initial 1996 sessions emphasize the droll felicity of essential early songs 'The State I Am In' and 'The Stars of Track and Field,' tightening the comedic timing and ramping up the tension, making their adolescent trauma both funnier and scarier.

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?

Two dudes from bong rockers Witch, including Dinosaur Jr. ax god J. Mascis, and two more from middle-aged glam junksters Cobra Verde, including singer John Petkovic, make for a three-guitar, super-ish group that actually gets somewhere rather than just revving its engine (see Them Crooked Vultures).

Presided over by Molly Siegel--a fiery young Yoko Ono impersonator--the disc is precocious but never precious, combining a smart, Juno-esque appreciation of old-school punk that steers clear of mere revivalism.

Singer-guitarist Jeffrey Novak pulls off a neat stunt on the second Cheap Time album, bringing fresh life to the most timeworn garage-band conventions.

The Kid's voice has tarnished, but his wit-intensive, cross-genre revisionism still grooves like a multiculti Mensa disco party.

Last year's remarkably lewd "12 Play: Fourth Quarter" may go down (so to speak) as one of the great unreleased albums in pop history. Fortunately, several of its prime cuts, including the silky-smooth 'Go Low,' surface on Untitled, which contains no shortage of fresh raunch.

The songs on The Letting Go that flirt with familiar forms... feel completely devoid of his pretentious tendencies. [Oct 2006, p.94]

There's a coiled power here equal to Harvey's more muscular stuff. [Oct 2007, p.95]