Sometimes he veers too close to his source material and surrenders to sap... but mostly this U.K.-chart-topping magpie makes good with bountiful tunes and Broadway vocal dazzle that could slay even the High School Musical crowd. [May 2007, p.88]

'Houseclouds' is dance pop of hit-worthy catchiness and the taut, pounding 'Freak Out' puts to shame most contemporary psych outfits. [Sep 2007, p.133]

The Felice Brothers aspire to the weird, woozy vibe of the Band's "The Basement Tapes," and often approach it. [Apr 2008, p.96]

LP3 is as wildly organic as instrumental electronica gets without becoming another genre (or five) altogether.

As with so much of Too True, it's more Flowers in the Attic than Flowers of Evil. But it's also part of a glorious art-goth tradition: bookish rockers chasing pop into the dark, deep within the Hong Kong gardens, where all cats are grey.

Patrick Stickles screams and moans amid the swirling, lo-fi racket, and although he sounds a helluva lot like Conor Oberst, this is no Bright Eyes knockoff. The Airing of Grievances is more inviting, fraternal, and widely referential.

Fantasies is a welcome return, but it's not without flaws.

Despite gestating for years, IV Play is an album that feels unattended to.

Sniper's voice still sags and drags, but Land and Fixed is remarkably feel-good, even when channeling the Cure via the Breakfast Club bounce of "Blurred Tonight" or Joy Division on cold-wave throbber "Collides."

They sound ready to take on Franz Ferdinand. [Aug 2006, p.76]

There's definitely something welcoming about Koi No Yokan's comparative purity, in the band's understanding of how little they need.

Layers of strings and piano (the droney "Old Statues") or ghostly backing voices (the haunting "As I Lay My Head Down") are usually enough to keep Tamer Animals from feeling too domesticated.

What's great about Atlas, the quintet's huge, intentional about-face of a third record, is that it most definitely didn't organically occur.

For years, Dillinger Escape Plan have been the metal standard-bearers of dizzying, time-signature torture, though they have occasionally eased up to construct NIN-damaged, alt-rock superhero fantasies. The band's fourth album gives these two personalities their most seamless marriage to date.

The added vocalists flesh out the simple bed of guitar and handclaps on the crestfallen "Mama Don't Like My Man," and play her pragmatic foils on "Money," barking, "Whatcha gonna do?" while she pleads in a Tina Turner rasp for the green stuff to stick around.

While their newfound alt-rock dalliances tend to blur together in the middle for some urgent-sounding tracks marked by temper-tantrum vocals ("What goes around, comes back around," promises "We're Taking This"), they finish strong, never quite denying their metal instincts

Where Craft Spells' previous release felt a bit lackadaisical, the more self-aware Nausea, with its themes of growth echoed in its synth crescendos, sports ambition.

Despite the invocation of those crusty legends [Guided by Voices], Business is no lo-fi throwback.

A cleverly plotted head trip disguised as a ramshackle mess, the debut full-length from this psychedelic Oakland quartet turns brain-scrambling confusion into a fine art.

Swedish electronic dance producer Axel Willner consistently finds the sweet spot between breathlessness and breathing too hard on his follow-up to 2007's acclaimed "From Here We Go Sublime."

At times, the forlorn vibe can get oppressive--'Peacetime Resistance' goes one love-as-war metaphor too far--but overall, the album is a welcome return from these princes of the bummer.

Sincerely Yours, then, remains another sturdy addition to the discography of one of rap's more thrilling creatives.

This stunning Dane's synths-plus-strings slant on singer-songwriter lovesickness offers refinement over innovation, yet Nanna Øland Fabricius beguiles with a gently insistent presence.

The veteran group's dizzying flows remain flawless. [Jun 2007, p.90]

Dear infuses the snapping, beeping compositions of his second album with a sincere yearn, broadening the genre in the process. [Jul 2007, p.96]

Boasting enough sugary banjos, glockenspiels, and handclaps to give a Teletubby diabetes, The Boy Least Likely To animate their softly sung indie twang with nonstop hooks, bright production, and gently acknowledged adult anxieties. Beneath lyrics celebrating balloons and whiskers lie bittersweet longings.

The contrast between Purity Ring's two halves is special and compelling, but Shrines goes over best when Roddick's reverent sound and James' lustful fury synchronize and break you off properly, womb-stem-style.

It’s structurally confounding, simultaneously weirder and more welcoming than any of the other material she’s released to date.