The album sounds beamed in from an earlier decade, but it runs deeper than nostalgia.
Harvey has never struck me as an explicitly political artist, but her lyrics are vague enough to welcome multiple interpretations.
The album is intelligent ear candy for those who don’t mind a sugar rush.
Arthur’s new songs are nothing short of breathtaking.
With Scott Stapp gone, Mark Tremonti has a little more freedom to flaunt his guitar skills.
Not one single standard is given a novel twist, and each arrangement seems to have the exact same crescendos and ritardandos.
The album’s closest antecedent is probably the Word Jazz installments of one Ken Nordine.
What is it about Duff exactly that makes us want to scratch our eyes out?
Ciara’s debut doesn’t exactly deliver the, uh, goods.
Recoil neatly combines melody and intensity with a smattering of vaguely political lyrics
The album is filled mostly with more of the pleasant yet unremarkable Triple-A sludge that has defined latter-day R.E.M.
Treble & Tremble is more like an unraveling tapestry than a blur.
Ironically, it seems the slackers of yesterday are now the ones rallying for political change.
Preceding the return of Duran Duran by several months, the Killers are the latest group to jump on the rock revivalist bandwagon.
Dizzee has learned how to gene-splice his uniquely atonal Manchester sound with a variety of popular beat styles.
Even Johansen manages to knit a surprisingly cohesive sonic tapestry out of strings, brass, acoustic guitar, tinkling toy piano sounds, and more.
Okay, so I’m biased.
Vol. 2 sometimes sags under the weight of its subtlety.
The Stranger is, in many ways, a rejection of the American dream.
It’s no secret why the ladies love cool James.
Every song here carries the besotted lyrical weight of unrequited love.