Their grandiose Baron Muchhausen indie rock does tend to veer toward indulgent. [Jul 2009, p.101]

Beacons Of Ancestorship is rather unlovely beast, sagging under the weight of hoary synths, lumbering dynamics and improvisatory formlessness--not to mention high expectations. [Jul 2009, p.101]

McCauley's time might just have arrived.

The pulse of the blues still beats deep in his soul but the emphasis here is on Taylor's poetic sensibility on an emotionally charged set of songs loosely dealing with the darker side of the human heart. [Sep 2009, p.96]

A frequently startling record of no little beauty--which threatens to launch a new, esoteric generation of Williamsburg wonders.

A band that couldn't ddcide if they preferred the caustic post-grunge of The Jesus Lizard or the absurdist, singalong witticisms of Half Man Half Biscuit, so choose to do both. Happily, the band have the muscular riffs and eloquence to pull off both. [Jul 2009, p.88]

It helps that Wilkinson sings sweetly, too, distancing and layering his vocals for that dewy, lost-in-the-woods effect. [Aug 2009, p.87]

It is the clan's most successful production since 1996's "If You're Feeling Sinister." [Jul 2009, p.88]

The band are now reactivated for their seventh, and pick up pretty much where they left off, the strum and twang now augmented by strings, but with the same determinedly old-school indie happysad heart. [Jul 2009, p.81]

Morello's guitars tend to dominate, Riley's best lines get lost, and none of the songs here have the tunes to convert floating voters. [Nov 2009, p.106]

If polished solos from Steve Vai and Keith Emerson detract from the original film's clumsy verite, some lines can still elicit big chuckles. [Aug 2009, p.105]

It's an energetic and clattering punk listen, topped by Ada's louche vocals, but suffers from over-exhuberance in its production. [Jul 2009, p.101]

Still, as a whole, Bitte Orca feels nothing less than a modern equivalent to Talking Heads' Fear Of Music or Scritti's Cupid & Psyche 85 –art-rock with intellectual rigour, borderless curiosity, and no fear of the mainstream. Pop, by any other name.

Good, but the exciting notion of a genuine career left turn feels increasingly unlikely.

The band utilise new instruments--saxophone, brass and more--in a too-blantant attempt to convince us that they are more than goths. [Aug 2009, p.101]

Mos Def can still create the year's finest hip hop album. [Sep 2009, p.88]

A world away from their ladrock roots, you might say.

The album closes with a reprise of 'To Ohio'--possibly superfluous given the perfection of the earlier version, but the only marginal misjudgement on an otherwise largely faultless album.

They aren't up to the job. [Jul 2009, p.83]

Flowers is occasionally emotional, but really, Kinsella is all about an off-the-cuff approach. [Jul 2009, p.90]

Even by his own standard, the conceptual breadth and sonic dexterity of Jhelli Beam dazzle. [Sep 2009, p.79]

Surprisingly, though, it's all a damn sight better than Velvet Revolver. [Sep 2009, p.81]

At 36 minutes, Preliminaires is slight and covers-heavy, but points to a promising new career phase for Iggy as Detroit’s answer to Serge.

Most crucially, Costello manages--apart from the previously cited cringe-worthy lapses--to play along with Burnett’s in-soft/out-LOUD approach, making this his most engaging album in a very long time.

Too often they sound like Sting fronting Counting Crows. [Jul 2009, p.93]

It’s E’s lyrics that are the true, bitter joy of this record, sacrificing nothing of their wit in pursuit of heartbreaking, heartbroken directness.

There’s more, too much more, to come, but for now, Volume One will do just fine.

Thier latest dusts off their usual blend of late-'70s Clash-styled punk, ska and dub reggae, but applies topspin via 'Civilian Ways,' a bluesy folk exercise inspired by the return of Armstrong's brother from Iraq. [Sep 2009, p.92]

More than just rote electro workouts, Carey successfully transforms 'Can't Stop Feeling' and 'Turn It On' into rich, dubby bleepfests. More of this invention on the album proper wouldn't have gone amiss. [Jul 2009, p.88]

The gravel voice and self-penned songs are distinctive, and though he's not beyond over-emoting, this stakes claim on a wide territory in a bold manner. [Jul 2009, p.95]

While I’m not sure Veckatimest is the huge improvement on Yellow House that some blogs claim it to be, it’s unquestionably a lovely record and it deserves to be heard on land, sea, indoors and out.

These Varsailles dwellers make records that initially seem like delicately generic powerpop, but gradually emerge as vivid, bittersweet epiphanies. [Jun 2009, p.99]

Eating Us is a litle too tidy, their frazzled wildness cultivated into ordered orchards, but on tracks like the typically titled 'Bubblegum Animals,' BMSR still conjure a ravishing, stoned cyber-soul pinic. [Jun 2009, p.83]

II might as well be a sketch for something more impressive. [Aug 2009, p.94]

Curious webs of blurry guitar, analogue keyboard and cranky drum machine, song like 'Blue Lights' resemble a lower-than-lo-fi Cure, where ramshakle recording and budget texture becomes part of the appeal. [Jun 2009, p.83]

Their seventh LP is a(nother) case of "none more black," but 'Big Church'--in which a Viennese women's choir provides the counter to crushing, sustained chords are striking departures from Sunn)))'s awesome canon. [Jun 2009, p.103]

Here, the presence of a harmonium updates some lava lamp pyschedelic freakouts, David Axelrod's jazzy grooves and the feathery female harmonies of The Free Design, whose Chris Dedrick provides sleevenotes for the vinyl. [Jun 2009, p.101]

It's all hugely engaging. [Jun 2009, p.96]

Blackshaw creates multiple orchestral effects with his instrument alone, each strum resounding like multiple windchimes. [Aug 2009, p.87]

The combination of vaulting pop glory and damaged, fractured insecurity has seldom been done better since the early days of Sinead O'Connor. [Apr 2009, p.87]

Manners is impressively slick and sparky but probably just a little too toothpaste fresh. [Jun 2009, p.93]

Toris 10th refuses to gel into anything illuminating. [Jun 2009, p.83]

These are finely detailed hymnals with a deceptively light touch, led out by Beam’s warm-blanket voice and brittle guitar.

There is the odd suggestion here of a campfire Mercury Rev, but nothing to spook former fans. [Jun 2009, p.92]

It’s a wonderful surprise that Further Complications turns out to be such a reinvigorated piece of work. Much of this freshness must be down to the working methods of producer Steve Albini.

There's a couple tunes that rise above the general lo-fi languor. But you get the feeling they could carry on like this, lost in unchanging adolescent reverie, forever. [Jun 2009, p.83]

Herren calls Savath And Savalas his vision of "Catalan acid folk"--and that should be all the encouragement required for fans of Four Tet, Tropicalia and early Animal Collective to dive right in. [Jul 2009, p.97]

When it works, it doses oso brillantly--but the preponderance of bog standard indie rock elsewhere is sadly less engaging. [May 2009, p.89]

'Cave Mouth' rocks with something of Fugazi's technical heft, while 'Perfect Fit' matches Penner's quavering vocals to dancing Klezmer piano and swells of cymbal. [Aug 2009, p.88]

The cherished first couple of French electro burn brighter than at any point in their recent careers. [Jun 2009, p.109]

Apostle Of Hustle have now all but abandoned the Cuban mores of earlier albums in favour of a lean, bass-driven powerpop. [Sep 2009, p.79]

His tunes have taken a tougher, more urban tone, with stand-outs 'The Turtle' and 'Basic Mountain' building to hard edged concrete peaks, drenched in acid Rephlex bleeps. [Jun 2009, p.85]

Instead of idling into wry balladry of the later works of their obvious idols The Replacements, which would have suited Green Day well, they've affected the airs of Serious Artists. [Jul 2009, p.88]

Earle also seems acutely aware that it’s impossible to forage deeper under the skin of these songs than Van Zandt did himself. But he’s able to summon the same air of desolation and disquiet by other means.

There's nothing here as good as 'Nosebleed,' the standout from 2007's "Our Earthly Pleasures"--but there are still some good points here. [Jun 2009, p.92]

The second album of their third coming aims for the spontaneity of the early recordings, pushing those buried melodies to the surface. [Jul 2009, p.93]

Songs like 'Turkey Sandwich' are nothing new, exactly, but win out on guts. [Jul 2009, p.91]

Despite being her most superficially conventional work to date it may be her most slow-burning, with less of the bricolage charm that distinguished the earlier work. [May 2009, p.89]

The Spinning Top, a really very enjoyable record, displays some of the finest aspects of the guitarist’s talents, but chief among them, those that pertain to Coxon the folkie, and acoustic guitar stylist.

A stunningly audacious second album, inspired equally by prime Prince and film soundtracks, and reminiscent of Jane Siberry's prog-pop ambition circa "The Walking." [Jun 2009, p.103]

High art, low humour and deluxe filth: a hugely seductive combination. [Jun 2009, p.95]

With Spoils, Alasdair Roberts has delivered his finest work to date. [May 2009, p.95]

The resulting LP is a shambling, intermittently engaging sprawl, the songs jammed with verbiage, the lead vocals spread among the principals, most of whom make Oberst's frayed, wobbly singing seem Bono-esque by comparison. The LP's saving grace is the dexterous playing of the ensemble. [Jun 2009, p.95]

On the fifth album this East Coast trio make it patently clear this is not the same band whose 2005 debut placed them in the rustic shadow of former Young God Records labelmate Devendra Banhart. [Jun 2009, p.83]

Against considerable odds--'Cause I Sez So is a bit of a hoot. [Jun 2009, p.95]

There's still a stertility to their sound on this third album, but laced with sax, treated guitars and memorable choruses, it ranks as their best. [Jun 2009, p.109]

The quintet's transformation from schlocky garage urchins to ambassadors of thrilling new-wave can largely be attributed to Portishead's Geoff Barrow, who, alongside Chris Cunningham, produced "Primary Colours," uncovering a formidable band beneath the haircuts. [Jun 2009, p.86]

The suspicion remains, though that heavy cosmic rock is probably the best vehicle for his apocalyptic romances. [Jun 2009, p.99]

Theirs is a sophisticated, finely nuanced sound, lynchpin Aaron Turner's vocals notwithstanding. [Jun 2009, p.88]

Grey Britain builds upon its predecessor without diluting any of its rabid energy and grinding, oppressive negativity. [Jun 2009, p.86]

This collects all that, plus demos and live tracks, into a demonstration of how a fabulously obscure Glasgow indie group became one of the most influential of their time. [Jun 2009, p.105]

He's lost his way a little bit here. [Jun 2009, p.109]

This follow-up finds them flitting dynamically from royal Trux-ish fuzz blues to incantatory pieces like 'Shells,' that cross "Experimental Jet Set"-era Youth with Nico. [Jun 2009, p.92]

A Ways Away is a beautifully low-key set that frames her mellifluous voice and folky asongs with guitar drones and a slow-motion, dream-like feel. [Aug 2009, p.98]

Singer Orlando Weeks' new themes of intimacy and dependence, add emotional scope to a band blossoming from their spindly beginnings into a meaty prospect capable of doing goth XTC, jolly Joy Divisiion, and sword-dancing Strokes. [Jun 2009, p.92]

Classic pop songwriting with a twist is the order of the day, with watertight barbershop harmonies spooned onto layers of intricately arranged organ, while lyrics are unabashedly lovestruck. [Jun 2009, p.93]

There's a winning way with '70s soft-rock chord changes, but his staggering lyrical banalities makes most of this virtually unlistenable. [May 2009, p.89]

It's rich, beguiling stuff. [Mar 2009, p.78]

The album’s a gas, a riot, a hoot.

Now 29 years on, The Devil You Know can't quite muster that kind of muscle [heard in Black Sabbath's "Heaven And Hell"]. [Jul 2009, p.88]

Melody Gardot actually makes a better album than Shakin' Stevens and Peyroux with My One And Only Thrill. [Apr 2009, p.82]

They build on the West Coast blueprint for strung-out, psychotropic darkness, tracking back to The Crystals via Mary Chain and leaning heavily on the reverb and delay. However, it's hedonism, not retro homage that floats the Crocodiles' boat. [Jul 2009, p.84]

It's an exhilarating racket, to say the least. [Sep 2009, p.88]

The Enemy's trademark enormity--not to mention their rampant tunefulness--lifts this out of the ladrock morass. [Jul 2009, p.86]

'Half Mast' and the 'Without You' are exquisite pangs of millionaire's melancholy, even if there aren't enough of them to sustain a whole album. [Mar 2009, p.85]

'The Way It Used To Be' is the best thing here, defiantly struggling against easy nostalgia, but nevertheless suggesting that the PSB melancholy vision of perfect pop is now, commercially, a period piece.

The charm here is in hearing a veteran band who still really enjoy the process of getting in a studio and playing music together. And it’s great, still.

Sounds Of The Universe is Depeche's most tune-packed and sonically adventurous album for over a decade. [May 2009, p.82]

Brakes, and this is not a criticism, are at their best when they do the opposite, pretending to be a nerdy indie-rock group while actually recording songs that are dumb as rocks. [May 2009, p.79]

One trick ponies, yes, but it's a good trick. [Jun 2009, p.83]

Potato Hole proves as extraordinary, delirious and laugh-out-loud weird as anyone might dare hope.

While Roth's delivery is smart, the subject matter can feel like the work of someone playing dumb. [Jul 2009, p.91]

Nothing is a strong as 'Hey Lloyd...' and Traceyanne Campbell's lachrymose croon is struggling to find new melodies, but on tracks like 'French Navy' and 'Honey In The Sun,' CO remain heartbreakingly lucid. [May 2009, p.80]

There is sleaze here and funeral swing, and sass to spare. [Jun 2009, p.105]

The BFB have constructed thier new LP around the theme of "being nice to people," although their lyrics drip with irony and thier musical tone is gruff. [May 2009, p.79]

A little may go a long way with Telepathe, but there's enough variety here to reward repeated listening.

Eagle is as good as anything he's ever done.

For all the dazzling dynamics, much of it recalling the '90s from shoegaze to Sonic Youth, the writing leaves little lasting impression, and Brian Aubert's affected vocals drag things down. [Jul 2009, p.97]