He finally seems to be combining alll of his varied interests into a complete package more substantive than his earlier, smark-alecky adventures. [Mar 2004, p.108]

Kozelek can make even the most lively of songs one strum shy of a death rattle. [Jan/Feb 2006, p.103]

Sometimes the '70s feel gets feeling hella silly. [Mar 2007, p.96]

Compared to 2003's Living In America, the disco-punk is less explicitly Blondie-biting and actually noticeably more weary, but no less propulsive and vamping. [Mar 2006, p.119]

The record falters only when Ace recounts a gangster parable about shady dealings with a certain Fats Belvedere. [Sep 2004, p.116]

There's a quality of randomness on The W that prevents it from cohering as an album. But even if it's just a collection of songs, The W is undeniably impressive, packing the kind of gritty, aggressive anthems that have been notably missing from most of the recent Wu solo albums. [#82, p. 148]

If you're over 25, then expect to find yourself peering at your old teen angst like some sort of barely remembered dream. [Jan/Feb 2005, p.95]

The result is a sound of un-epic mopeyness, more surface than interior and arguably more truthful because of it. [Apr 2006, p.84]

Lyrically, Khan really cuts loose, switching from everyday matters to sinister fantasies, often during the same song, and all with extraordinary confidence.

One answer, really...bass. Or, lack of bass. Having tested the disc on several systems, I can only determine that someone at Daft Punk central, or Virgin Records decided to master this disc like a pop record, the mids jacked to high heaven while the sub-bass, the stuff that actually makes you move, is completely erased.

More! is filled with playful, soft and dynamic production, but instead of having a fluid album format, it feels a little inconsistent. And an unnecessary and dated vocal feature from Yello on "Divine," weakens the whole flow and picture.

Tecnicolor Wall of Sound confections. [Apr 2006, p.96]

It drifts like trade winds, which is good for followers and merely intriguing to the casual listener. [May 2005, p.84]

A lush, relaxing listen. [Jan/Feb 2006, p.103]

Too often we get ill-fated experiments in electronic circa 1997 and overly polished replications of their biggest hit to date, "Electrify." [Sep 2004, p.116]

For those who used to throw parties, but now have dinners, Kings Of Convenience will bring desert and a bottle of expensive red wine. [Oct 2004, p.103]

Like many bands before them who similarly created magic with their debut albums, this Brooklyn trio can't quite harness the same level of energy for their sophomore effort.

Listeners hoping for a radical departure from previous outings may be disappointed to find that the disc doesn't necessarily break new ground... [Sep 2001, p.152]

The record is a winning release, if not entirely novel, and the sound of a likable band honing their sound while refusing, somewhat obstinately, to alter it.

A diverting listen. [Jun 2003, p.94]

Berlin's long-running tendency toward grit-glitz, which musicians from Bowie to Peaches have channeled in their work, is the inspiration for this fourth record of functional fun.

Beatwise, Playtime culls Wiley's best dubs from the last year, with tracks like 'Bow E3' and '50/50' flexing textbook mastery over grime's sludgy polyrhythm.

Despite the fact that the album is largely a deconstruction of masculinity vs. feminity, Yo Majesty isn’t afraid to tone the sex down to hop on the progressive tip. 'Never Be Afraid' displays the cosmic gospel of Jwl B. However, this retreat into tamer territory isn’t indicative of weakness; chalk it up to what is actually a significantly well-rounded and versitile rap duo.

Predominately shimmering and languid, at its raciest Divine Operating System achieves a poppy, disco canter that trades ass-slapping soul for sleek sensuality. [Sep 2002, p.104]

Ecstatic may not be the warm follow-up some people were expecting, but it's an equally fascinating, engaging album. [Jun 2005, p.78]

A big, heaping spoonful of bland. [Mar 2007, p.96]

Earnestly sung lyrics in the vein of Jack Johnson or John Mayer, 80s-style instrumentation (percussion, guitar licks, synths), and constant rhythmic switch-ups are elegantly crafted. This album isn't boring, it's just too polished for the raw sounds and styles it draws influence from.

Another befuddling album that offers what seems to be a gigantic middle finger bookended by disrupted toe-tappy pop numbers. [Oct 2002, p.96]