The best Pretenders record since 1994's Last of the Independents. [Dec 2002, p.141]

They're all pretty good, actually, especially "When It's Over"... [Aug 2001, p.129]

The first half of this double EP was recorded with a 19-piece Oaxacan band, who pull the songs away from Condon's reflexive melancholy; but next to their pomp, his sparse bedroom electronics on Holland (under the name Realpeople) feel a tad thin.

It's a minor miracle that these Swedish vets' 24-song sixth album clocks in at 94 filler-free minutes, stuffed with late-'60s guitar romps ranging from slow-burn psychedelia to up-tempo struts, and more deliberate mood pieces.

What elevates their debut beyond your average twee-punk rager is the gentle psych dabblings.

The result is a patchwork approach to nostalgia, cherry-picking sounds from dance music's collective memory and rearranging them into something that's more than the sum of its parts.

Uneven but fascinating. [May 2006, p.92]

Raise the Dead works best when power takes a backseat to pop. [May 2008, p.106]

The title track gusts in more forcefully, but on the duo's best songs, they harmonize like Simon & Garfunkel shutting their eyes against approaching shades of winter.

What aren't here are coherently shaped songs, or hooks, or riffs, or melodies that stick.

Fern Knight is a delightfully creepy homage to Celtic-Appalachian tradition, and a compelling subversion of traditional folk structure.

Just seven of the 15 songs here break three minutes, which is smart, as Sniper turns rubbery bass lines and thin synths into goth-flavored bubblegum pop.

Even when the concept stumbles, parts of Vide Noir are pretty enjoyable listening anyway, like the flecks of psychedelic guitar across the title track and the filigree detail and sensual current of “Moonbeam.”

Dr. Dog can capture the irreverence and fun of their influences, but the Dylan-esque rambling and McCartney-indebted harmonies ultimately click too briefly, only inducing nostalgia for the moments when Dr. Dog shines.

The songs are catchy and nuanced, and the rage that defined them a mere seven years ago comes across here as measured, simmering frustration.

Aside from its sheer heft, though, it's hard to imagine it converting anyone who doesn't already care.

The music itself sounds a little more factory-made than White may have intended.

Adorned with piano and synth, the ten songs on Re-Arrange Us are fuller, more elegant vessels for the duo’s warm, intricate melodies.

Twenty years since their last album of new material, Gill and vocalist Jon King spit out splintered riffs and skewered tropes that approximate the band's peak on grabby party-starters ("Who Am I") and mesmerizing midtempo grooves ("A Fruitfly in the Beehive"). The rest are only slightly damaged goods.

Opener 'Another Likely Story' sets the mood, dovetailing chilly lunar textures with hushed vocal harmonies to often nap-worthy effect.

The album is full of catchy guitar rock anthems that recall their '90s alt-rock heyday but also showcases some of the maturity and experience they've gotten since then.

If you are over 25 and have been in a romantic relationship, Damage will not confront you with the unfamiliar, or make you suddenly realize you've never understood yourself like you do now. Still, some of it will comfort you when you've been depressed or confused by your life.

It's pleasant, soothingly warm water, sure, but you probably won't want to soak for too long.

There are just enough bright spots to make this all worthwhile for those too old to wear BAPE.

Plays like a poppy salvo against [Broken Social Scene's] cerebral forays. [Oct 2005, p.138]

Nash's bluntness and detail make for a good spectacle. [Feb 2008, p.96]

Fang's edge is a bit more mosh-by-numbers than Hole's. [Dec 2003, p.129]

A dark, emotionally intense record, best experienced on headphones. [Jan 2004, p.97]