Gorky's make the leap from ramshackle prog pop to meticulously crafted folk-symphonics. [Nov 2001, p.130]

The Fall has been billed as Norah Jones' rock album. In fact, it's something even more surprising: a hot-blooded soul record from the queen of the even keel.

Unbound by a verse-chorus-verse format, the songs meander unpredictably, like a milder Of Montreal, with polymorphous sex replaced by God and health problems.

The result is indie-rock as passive-aggressive blues implosion. [Sep 2002, p.128]

Perfect for Magnetic Fields fans let down by 2010's concept-heavy Realism.

His well-aged craft shows on his fourth LP in 15 years.

At its worst, Kill My Blues indulges in too much Townshend-esque noodling, but at its best, it proves that one of alt-rock's greatest howlers can operate at full power even without pushing herself to detonation.

Baroque but not self-indulgent. [Jul 2006, p.83]

His persistent self-flagellation could do with more hooks, but Remember packs pain by the pound.

Both halves are gripping, but Heim's unplugged conceit--which spotlights vocalist Jonsi Birgisson's high, ghostly howls--showcases the band's eerie pull. [Dec 2007, p.125]

Kravitz's irony-free pastiches often satisfy like the best work of his rock and soul forebears; and considering his tastes, that's a remarkably high standard.

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.

Hug of Thunder is at its best when Broken Social Scene is loose and willing to experiment with its formula.

By the time you reach the where-is-that-nicked-from riff of “I’m Not Satisfied,” it’s clear this is Lydon’s most listenable record in 30 years, though Album was a lot more fun and “Shoom,” the catchiest thing here, ain’t “Rise.”

The album’s others [songs]--all of them, except for the title track and album opener, remarkably stick to five minutes--like the skittering, piston-punctuated “Pacer,” rise to the occasion of possibly even bigger stages.

The West Coast threesome's pillowy, nostalgic abstractions veer from the sweeping histrionics of M83 or breezy gestures of various Scandinavians toward a woozy, romantic restlessness

It's difficult to sound this vintage without coming off as contrived, but Alela Diane, her guitarist/producer father, and assorted friends tap into folk archetypes that are often opaquely generalized but always disarmingly pure.

The album won't hold you rapt for the entirety of its 45 minutes, but it'll never totally release you from its grasp either, seeping its way into your pores like an insidious fog.

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.

Beauty Behind the Madness is front-loaded with fresh directions for the Weeknd that achieve the impossible: make it sound like he’s actually enjoying himself.

Venus on Earth feels impulsive and rich, rippling with surf psychedelia and exultant brass swing.

Over 38 taut minutes, these New York kids reflect the mirror-ball gleam of primo INXS and "Emotional Rescue"–era Rolling Stones onto the lives of today's young, rich, and wasted.

The only drawback is that in his expansiveness, Bilal forgot to give himself that killer tune or two that would bring it all home. [Sep 2001, p.158]

Sometimes the best results, though, come when Kelly drops the exercise completely.

Guetta can't match the inexhaustible bliss of his Kelly Rowland–aided 2009 disco smash "When Love Takes Over," but he can make 50 Cent seem like an edgy Daft Punk fanboy, which is not an insubstantial trick.

On Duskland, he veers slightly more into homegrown Kurt Vile territory, especially with the organ-saturated opener “Sundowner.”

Finally, she’s embracing the responsibility to provide stone-cold tunes without pretense.

Sonically velveteen the whole way through, it’s certainly a comforting album, though Gonzalez’s efforts to capture the commanding, immediate quality of the music of her influences feel, overall, a little too cautious.