The result can be a thrilling hybrid of Muse and Magazine, but also a bit of a dog's dinner. [Sep 2010, p.96]

Opener "Satellite 15" might hint at something dark and abrasive, but they're soon back on track, rattling through robust, enjoyable nonsense like the multi-part epic "When The Wild Wind Blows." [Nov 2010, p.93]

There's shades of both Stevie Nicks and Neko Case in Lissie's voice, a resplendent instrument that's both husky and mellow, attuned equally to the epic and the intimate. But Really the sound and songs here are a testament to her unaffected individuality. [Aug 2010, p.86]

Alive As You Are, then recalls a lot from the past, and recent past, but beyond that is simply crammed with great tunes like "Split Minute" and 18th Street Shuffle," the benign spell of which is more than the sum if the material's 1960s parts. [Sep 2010, p.91]

That a curdled, unifying groove undulates throughout this perverse collection is testament to Dear's abundant skills. [Sep 2010, p.91]

There are moments where the strings and backing vocals lurch into sickly sweet. But at least half of this album successfully unites two of America's greatest songwriters. [Oct 2010, p.109]

The likes of "The West End" and "Thinking About You" are unobjectionable, but mostly have the effect of reminding that there are Steve Earle albums you could be playing. [Nov 2010, p.94]

He's rarely sounded so utterly engaged. [Oct 2010, p.99]

Pleasant enough, but The Magic Numbers do this stuff for warm-ups. [Sep 2010, p.87]

With martial trumpets, cheap-sounding Farfisa organs and raspy baritone saxes, there are certainly nods toward Ethiopiques legends like Mulatu Astatke or the Wallas Band, tracks like "Rite Of The Ancients" and "Golden Dunes" add a rugged garage rock, and riff-based funk of "Black Venom" has a breakbeat that's just begging to be sampled by a bright hip hop producer. [Nov 2010, p.83]

Sky Larkin ultimately remain a little too Haley Mills. [Sep 2010, p.102]

Sometimes excessive technological trickery gets the better of them, but there are some icy anthems. [Sep 2010, p.101]

If Funeral was organic, and Neon Bible was force-fed, The Suburbs makes do with being merely delicious. (And a little wistful, wounded, and wise.) [Sep 2010, p.80]

Half of these tracks are superfluous, but the other half are mixtape gold. [Sep 2010, p.108]

Tin Can Trust is a masterful album from an undeniably great American band, at the peak of its considerable powerers. [Sep 2010, p.88]

Atmospheric post-grunge is the order of the day, but while the likes of "Census" is dynamically tight, the impression is of talented technicians, not great songwriters. [Sep 200, p.83]

Captured live in the studio at LA's Sunset Sound, they've never sounded better in their 20-year career, their Southern roots more proudly on parade than ever. [Oct 22010, p.87]

A blast. [Sep 2010, p.92]

What prevents this all from becoming a mish-mash of textures is Hoop's single-minded passion, which lends a self-assured cohesion to her diversity.

Fair play to Jones, He's a trier. [Sep 2010, p.96]

It's audacious stuff, but emotionally unengaging, with the lyrics being the weakest link and those songs remaining ultimately elusive. [Sep 2010, p.99]

Dolorous, soulful, a voice that speaks of total commitment--Best Coast are The Crystals of the blogosphere. [Sep 2010, p.90]

It's probably fair to say that Super Furry Animals would not have had such excellent run were their creative impulses not balanced perfectly between poignant songcraft and archaic weirdness. On The Terror of Cosmic Loneliness, however, we find Gruff Rhys indulging rather heavily in the latter. [Sep 2010, p.101]

The Runaway is FM pop at its most heartfelt. [Jul 2010, p.112]

The best song is Terrence Trwnt D'Arby's Sign Your Name." Slightly damning, that. [Sep 2010, p.91]

Yes, it is formative, but it is never amaturish, and where Grizzly Bear's fully symphonic songs can, at their worst, feel somewhat glutinous, the tracks of Archive 2003-2006 combine a lean feel and try-anything ambition that's well worthy of investigation. [Aug 2010, p.90]

Ford's transporting voice is let down by tunes that are anything but. [Aug 2010, p.92]

A sparse, occasionally foreboding mood weighs on these 13 cues, appropriate to Richter's increasingly prolific contributions ti European arthouse soundtracks. [Aug 2010, p.93]

Dark Night Of The Soul will probably be remembered more for the stunt with the blank CD-Rs than for the music intended to be burnt onto them.

This follow-up strives to be less ethereal, and with the somewhat mannered twin vocals of Alejandra and Claudia Deheza more to the fore, it brings to mind Madonna's "Ray Of Light." [Aug 2010, p.94]

Their formula--downtuned guitar, chunky rhythms, serial killer vocals--is proven, but ugly enough that it'll only resonate with fans. [Sep 2010, p.96]

Much of Intriguer leaves one yearning for the unbound pop of "Now We're Getting Somewhere" or the straightforwardly confident balladry of "Better Be Home Soon." [Jul 2010, p.104]

Where MIA escapes the club and returns to the wider world, there's an overwhelming sense of diminishing returns. [Aug 2010, p.89]

A perfectly formed masterclass in early hours reflection. [Aug 2020, p.82]

A beautiful album, and one that conveys such stillness that time itself seems to hang suspended. [Sep 2010, p.104]

These boys have genuine pedigree--guitarist Jamie's grandpa was Ewan MacColl--and the confident acoustic textures and fingerpicking styles on display here show a real affection for folk traditions. [Aug 2010, p.77]

A bold leap forwards. [Apr 2008, p.98]

These veteran North Carolinians invariably put out albums of spirit, vim and polished Americana, with songs that boast powerful melodies and gorgeous harmonies. [Oct 2010, p.89]

The Coral don't put a foot wrong on this album, and therein lies its one flaw: by polishing their technique and perfecting their craft, they've become slightly less interesting. [Aug 2010, p.81]

This is one record on which his ultimate masterplan to weld R&B sass to thumping club beats comes good. [Aug 2010, p.84]

Despite her vaguely regal poise, and a songwriting crew including Jake Shears, Calvin Harris and Tim-from-Keane, Aphrodite is dismayingly anonymous pop-trance. [Aug 2010, p.84]

Big Boi's absurd--and absurdly dextrous--verbiage knits it all together handsomely. [Sep 2010, p.85]

There are flashes of brilliance here, but you do long for a wink or a flicker of wit. [Feb 2010, p.88]

The listener who experiences this album as physically as it is delivered will be rewarded with calories burned, an endorphin rush to die for, and heavy sweating indeed. [Aug 2010, p.94]

Escovedo is as reflective as he is melodic. [Juul 2010, p.116]

Their full debut is more "pop," if you stretch the definition to lovely multi-vocal interplay, grooves that stay convoluted but move their asses, and songs with hooks and momentum. [Nov 2010, p.93]

Cutting edge, it's not, as if that was ever the point, but the title of the collection seems less like a wry confession, more like wishful thinking. [Jun 2010, p.88]

Further requires an injection of personality that low-key collaborators Stephanie Dosen and Francis Ten just can't provide. [Jul 2010, p103]

Stack with drivetime anthems such as "Big Giirl Little Girl" and "Bring Night". Less overbearing is the feelgood disco of "The Fight" and "Clap Your Hands," which may finally make Sia a household name. [Jul 2010, p.120]

Fairly generalised misogyny pervades the album, though it would be churlish not to not that tracks like "White Trash Party" or "On Fire" both display flashes of Eminem's wit. [Sep 2010, p.92]

The overall effect is all a bit "earnest teen drama"--"Dead Hearts" is a surely shoo-in for the soundtrack of the next Twilight movie--but the hit-rate is impressively high. [Sep 2010, p.104]

Boys Outside is truly lovely, Mason's finest solo record, but it's safe to say an album of sentimental ballads may not satisfy those who still hanker after the maverick, impulsive spirit of The Beta Band. [May 2010, p.95]

T Bone Burnett combines his vast understanding of American roots music with Randolph's vital grounding in gospel on the sacred steel virtuoso's third studio album. [Jul 2010, p.117]

There are still big choruses here. But they now layer things deftly. [Jun 2010, p.86]

Stomping Eurodisco almost-anthems rub shoulders with crying-on-the-dancefloor confessionals, although the 31-year-old diva's plastic-punkette teen-rebel pose grates at times. [Aug 2010, p.93]

American Slang delivers spectacularly on all expected fronts. Everything that was great about The '59 Sound is here, but the sound is even bigger, epic without getting blustery.

Unfortunately, and rather ironically, Mojo is ultimately undone by the very virtuosity of its creators: the band stumbles repeatedly into that musican's trap of making music that sounds intended principally to impress other musicans. [July 2010, p.102]

This is a conventional effort, featuring four-to-the-floor rock and likeable disco-indie. [Aug 2010, p.102]

Having branched out by working with everyone from Patti Smith to Mark Linkous, one of the UK's most gifted all-rounders returns rejuvenated with a fifth LP as positive and confident as 2006's "The Beautiful Lie" was moodily introspective. [Jul 2010, p.108]

Now in ihis late sixties, Miller's white soul voice and economical guitar-playing still pack a punch, while veteran R&B singer Sonny Charles assists with some well-placed harmonies. [Aug 2010, p.88]

Release Me feels like the soundtrack to a Josie And The Pussycats sequel unlikely to be made. [Sep 2010, p.96]

Time Flies, though fun, is no more than a handy place to nab all 27 Oasis' singles in one unfilteresd, undescerning grab. [Jul 2010, p.124]

Kath's basic approach to synth-pop means most tracks adhere to a glitchy arpeggiated formula that resembles a Faithless record, but with added indie weirdness. [Jul 2010, p.104]

Shadows is full of drowsy sweetness and mellow doubt: the sound of a great group ageing gracefully. [Jun 2010, p.89]

The veteran New York trio draws from synth-pop, to pomp rock, yet somehow turns the wildly disparate source material into a coherent album that doubles as a tribute to their own roots in The Byrds and Big Star. [May 2010, p.99]

The 12 artfully crafted songs here suggest Blitzen Trapper should now be judged in the elevated company of Wilco, Brendan Benson and The Raconteurs. [Jul 2010, p.113]

Champ sees TPC breathing deeper and taking a wider view. [Aug 2010, p.102]

Impressively, it achieves the feat of enghancing Pink's legend with out puncturing his mystique. [Jul 2010, p.105]

The Black Dirt Sessions is roughly the equivalent of The Replacements going straight from the rowdy delinquency of 1981's "Sorry Ma, Forget To take Out The Trash" to the ashen resignation of 1990's "All Shook Down," with nothing in between. [Aug 2010, p.74]

Another group who make a virtue of the physical and cultural space America has to offer, drawing on the disparateness of their origins. [Ju l 2010, p.108]

All too often, though, slick jams such as "Drugs" and "Party With Children" resemble library tracks, exercises in style that pirouette exquistely, but shy away from becoming anything meaningful. [Aug 2010, p.93]

The Dublin troubadour's debut as Villagers is rich with risk and imagination, evoking Robert Wyatt and Brian Protheroe. [Jun 2010, p.106]

Potter's expressive voice leads the charge, but wouldn't make half as much impact without the tight and nuanced Nocturnals punctuating each quiver and wail. [Oct 2010, p.101]

Too often Cunningham fails to develop his tracks, which start thrillingly only to fizzle out. [Jul 2010, p.101]

You'd be a curmudgeon on to hate such a soothing, well-produced brew, but an undemanding soul to hear it as more than aural wallpaper. [Jul 2010, p.115]

Wake Up The Nation, an album that goes a long way to differentiate itself from its predecessor in sound, texture and atmosphere.

A treatise on the tattered state-of-the-nation told over 12 slices of earnest, unerring pop-punk, the lowering mood is lifted by intricate harmonies and big singalong tunes. [Jun 2010, p.88]

The Bride Screamed Murder channels the band's two-kit battery into intense percussion romps topped by burly call-and-response bellows, like a military drill conducted on strong hallucinogens. [Aug 2010, p.88]

"You And Your Heart" tries to kick out the jams, but in the most polite fashion imaginable. He's at his best on more familiar ground of the mid-tempo chug "Red Wine, Mistakes, Mythology." [Aug 2010, p.84]

The finished result has a curiously restrained feel, an odd mix of clumpy drumming, bluesy vocals and spidery guitars. [Jul 2010, p.103]

There's something awkward about the whole: the album wins attention but doesn't keep it. [Jun 2010, p.95]

Everyone from Hendrix to CSN&Y to Pink Floyd to Led Zep turns up in their dusky psych-blues-folk blended with a symphonic approach to song construction that keeps Sleepy Sun sounding fresh. [Jun 2010, p.98]

His vechile of expression alternates between acoustic confessional and clapped-out pub rock, leaving Dangerfield pootling down the middle of a fairly nondescript road. [Feb 2010, p.81]

They have bell-clear voices, and a spooky ability to envince naivety and world-weariness in the same breath. [Feb 2010, p.88]

All round it makes for a slightly uncomfortable listen. [Apr 2010, p.90]

Swift guides Jurado through the sub-Spectorisms of "Arkansas" and "Throwing Your Voice" with a sensitive touch. [Jun 2010, p.96]

There are strings aplenty, arranged as baroque lullabies or strange waltzes, Hinson shuffling his sorrows against a backdrop of multitracked choirs and fractured noise. Incredibly addictive. [Jul 2010, p.116]

If this is indeed, as rumoured, LCD's final bout, it finds them a little heavy and tired, but occasionally deceptively light on their feet. [Jun 2010, p.82]

Infinite Arms is a neoclassic landmark that you'll need to get on vinyl. This is a record that begs to be flipped over and played again. [Jun 2010, p.93]

Brothers is really all about The Black Keys; swaggering journey from sub-White Stripes curio to one of the best rock'n'roll bands on the planet. [Jun 2010, p.81]

Sadly, Nas brings self-importance to "Strong Will Continue," that's encumbered his latter career, but it's the exception on a broadly fruitful collaboration. [Jul 2010, p.115]

Lidell's vocals are alternately anguished and joyous but always supple. It's quite a ride. [May 2010, p.97]

It's autumnal but never overbearingly bleak, thanks to the enduring warmth of Thorn's voice, and the empathy of her lyrics, even on the almost desolate "Singles Bar." [Jul 2010, p.125]

This quartet have honed thier lumbering heaviness into something both glorious and at times funny. [Aug 2010, p.82]

Producer Jari Haapalainen successfully blends it all together, but Karolina Komstedt's vacant vocals remian glacially unmoved. [Jul 2010, p.104]

Exile itself remains the tour de force it's been since release in May '72. [Jun 2010, p.104]

Not since Lennon howled "Mother" have there been songs as naked and fraught as "Mama Here, Mama Gone" and "March 11 1962." [Jun 2010, p.88]

This seventh studio album doesn't find them doing anything much different but still doing it with grit and conviction. [Dec 2009, p. 113]