The sequencing is what makes this disc such a divine pleasure: we get to hear a band grow from grinning upstarts to tension-battered road warriors.

'Tell Me Where It Hurts' is an undeniable sign that, despite their extended hiatuses and internal turmoil, Garbage is very much alive with ideas and ambition.

It's a deserved retrospective, and serves a reminder of how, in the mid 1990s, the band had album buyers eating out of the palms of their hands.

Absolute Garbage makes a fine reminiscence, a gift from a party that was fun for its time but left a nasty hangover.

The only thing lacking after the debut were the pop songs. This was evident with each successive proper album, but this flaw is put into too sharp of a relief on Absolute Garbage.

This set combines the best of the best for a mostly killer no-filler collection [Summer 2007, p. 88]

Far better than the Cranberries in retrospect. [Sep/Oct 2007, p.131]

The bonus disc of dance remixes merely piles another layer of fastidiousness atop the already epically fussed-over tracks. [2007 Aug, p.120]

Remarkably extending to 18 tracks, Absolute… traces the discography from the wide-screen Mary Chain of 'Only Happy When It Rains' to the Bond theme 'The World Is Not Enough' and the Spectorish strings of this year’s comeback, 'Tell Me Where it Hurts'--though 2001’s cute 'Androgyny' is an odd omission.

The chronological running order of Absolute Garbage is also unfortunate as it renders the CD impotent halfway through.

The band's seemingly desperate to reinvigorate their cultural cachet, but Absolute Garbage's latter half emphasizes the depths they've fallen.

Imagine a grouchy, surly-lipped teenager who becomes someone devilishly, deliciously dramatic. Then age does wither them, and the years don't half bloody condemn them.