Many of the tracks are begging to be played live in full force, as most of them, to be sure, sound unfulfilled here on CD.

An album that's inspiring in its ambition.

No Flashlight is the most sincere album I've heard in so long that it fills me with a joy that couldn't possibly only come through the music.

The blandest rock n' roll record possible.

Orth would do well to pay more attention to whipping his songs into shape next time around.

Less Than Human is the sound of James Murphy transforming the songs of a guy who has spent a nauseating amount of time fiddling about with Kraftwerk-y synths into an album as enjoyable at home as it is on the dancefloor.

I would stress that this conglomerate of half-baked songs should in no way reflect on the rest of Cursive's canon -- there is a reason most of these songs have gone largely unnoticed and unappreciated.

Mr. Hollywood Jr., 1947 won't win any awards for innovation and probably won't yield any radio hits, but that's perfect. This album isn't about creating the perfect pop song, but about creating a story that bridges generations.

Secret House Against The World is a fun-filled affair that only reinforces Buck 65's stature as one of "hip-hop's" more versatile "emcees."

If you're willing to forgive a little lack of innovation and the subtle feeling that Spelled In Bones might be a little more mellow than it ought to be, there's one hell of a nice listen in this record.

Regardless of what you think of his previous and complicated output, he's proven here that he can just as easily make sick chill as maniacal IDM or ambient glitch; and he's just as strong as anyone else going.

Self Help Serenade is not an unpleasant listen; it has simply and unfortunately been played out over the years by scores of other bands.

While they haven't completely redrawn themselves, Alpine Static does signify a step forward for Kinski with its unashamed embrace of guitar rock.

Takes the listener on an unmitigated aural journey through the outer reaches of electronic music.

It's business as usual, but there is not a damn thing wrong with that when it comes to this group.

This is a rare combination of talent, vision and sound.

Illinois certainly isn't perfect, but it does do a couple important things: it proves that Sufjan has the skill and the talent to prove flexible and long-lasting, and that it's not much of a stretch to expect even better albums from him in the future.

In lieu of messing around in the dark fringes of slightly bizarre café music, Free The Bees is a straight up rock album more in line with Iron Butterfly and the Small Faces than Morcheeba or Quantic.

This is a major step forward in pushing the IDM aesthetic into the bigger territory of soul and R&B music.

An album which will force even the most hardened listeners to throw in the towel.

This album's exceptional, for as familiar and generic as it sounds, there is an autumnal sort of charm.

It hits very close to musical documentary with very few of the abstraction perils that usually haunt artists in converting ideas to their medium.

It is, like so many other pop albums, the kind of thing that grows on you and ferments into an incredible entity.

As a collection of stunning, yet unassuming, pop songs it fits in nicely with the Pernice oeuvre.

The Oranges Band are good at what they do, but The World & Everything in It seems destined to function as background music rather than as a focus for rapt listening.

Perfect pop bliss.

Not great, a few catchy moments, certainly not god-awful, but just bland enough that after three listens, all life is drained from it.

They are to hip-hop what No Doubt was to ska.