With many songs over four minutes and often consisting of blantantly stoned self-indulgent "jams," some trimming is needed.

Don’t get it twisted, the Kidz have dumbed down--but they’ve smartened up just as much.

With partner Panda One, they unleash a concoction of soul, electronica and disco that’s occasionally bizarre, but consistently funky.

As scattered as ever, Nouns covers a gamut of abstraction and occasionally even runs into a wall of melody.

It's hard to leave your comfort zone, especially with unrealistically high expectations, but the band successfully redefines itself without alienating their core audience. Welcome back, guys.

Ol'boy touches the listener deep on the inside with the polished shimmy of Motown and the greasy strut of Stax tipping his hats to the likes of Otis Redding, Sam Cooke and kJackie Wilson. [Mar/Apr 2008, p.107]

With the first release, Chemistry, you would think some experimentalism was going on--but it isn’t. That’s not necessarily a bad quality, but the lack of daring pushes this release into the mediocre pile.

Trash, Rats and Microphones is tailor-made for the contemporary electro-crazed (dance like tomorrow ain’t promised) landscape.

Everywhere At Once, LB's Anti-debut, is also a practice in nostalgia--but it's decidedly more me-centric in execution. [Mar/Apr 2008, p.109]

This long player is an ecstatic thrill ride through a world of comic minutia to tide FOTC's cult fan base over until their second season resumes after HBO's typical year and a half gap. [May/June 2008, p.92]

Being a gluttonous hard-ass has been a tough requirement to scratch from the 10 rap commandments, but a growing trend in transparent MCs finds Atmosphere atop the pedestal of its post-Prozac and Adderalled audience. Maybe good dads just make the world better, one damn fine album at a time.

M83's new effort saunters like a slow dance from "Sixteen Candles." [Mar/Apr 2008, p.109]

With positive vibes along the lines of fellow Brits The Kinks, Konk flows cohesively and is easy and pleasant to listen to all the way through (which is very hard to say for most full-lengths in this era of hit singles).

This live album may provide an aperitif for those who've never seen the band perform. [May/June 2008, p.93]

With the Pixies re-run now seemingly over, it's good to hear the "other Deal" project back in full effect.

Walk It Off does offer a few highlights, but it fails to yield a comprehensive sense of T&T's sound, and blatantly lacks any cohesive progression.

Ghost Colours sounds like Depeche Mode on Lorazepam--dramatic, well enunciated and full of arpeggiated synthy goodness.

For the first time since 1995's "Everything Is Wrong," the producer who cashes checks as Richard Melville Hall has made an album that, while not devoid of song craft, doesn't allow the pop elements to overpower the dance floor punch.

From the tip to full metallic thrust, Dan Auerbach and Patrick Carney slap and caress romantic lyricism deep into the tunnels of harmonic structure, curried by Brian Burton’s (aka Dangermouse) rollicking production.

Get Awkward showcases a sound reliant on the push and pull between a band whose middle ground is fun.

An album one suspects will age extremely well. [Mar/Apr 2008, p.106]

Using familiarity to its advantage, this duo is smart to refine its palette, making even the most migraine-inducing compositions seem like comforting lullabies.

The Teenagers are pretty damn good at distilling all things incredible, wicked and true about being young.

Stainless Style is impressive for so many reasons--'Raquel,' dedicated to Miss Welch; hearing crunk meld with Italo Disco; a Yo Majesty cameo--but it's the utter lack of irony that steals the show.

With The Odd Couple, Gnarls Barkley is unable to come up with anything containing as much pure pop power as their hit song "Crazy," but it's certainly not for lack of trying.

Producer Ethan Fawn's dynamic overlays of crisp, factory-stomped melodic lines carry Glass's unintelligible lyrics straight to neon-lit nausea heaven.

It’s a syrup-sick pop rotted by dark folk, elaborate rhythms and droning psychedelia, but it’s always tight--meticulously so--making Alopecia an across the-board delicacy of warped obsession.

From the shirtless thunder of the title track to the shrill electroclash cover of Siouxzee and the Banshee’s 'Cities of Dust' and 'Mad Pursuit,' a moody attempt at sextronica, the real question is, what is the intended audience for this admittedly diverse yet inexplicably dated collection of electronic tunes?