A lamentable debut all round.

Messy, noisy, directionless, and painfully shy on both tunes and purpose... and winds up sounding a bit like a parody.

This isn't ugly visceral music; it's castrated rock with a rotten heart.

One fulfills all of the "faceless" criticisms thrown at them in the past, while alienating whatever fan base they had before.

Famous First Words was always going to struggle to live up to the band's bold promises, but it's still a shock at how a Brit-pop scene renowned for its color can be responsible for something so utterly drab.

Since the music has no melody, hooks, or energy, all attention is focused on the clown jumping up and down and screaming in front, and long before the record is over, you're left wondering, how the hell did he ever get to put this mess out?

Hefty Fine finds the Bloodhound Gang in a Catch-22 -- they've never wanted to be anything other than a dumb, silly hard rock band, but their shtick is getting tired, yet they're trapped by the confines of what they want to be.

The worst thing about Playing with Fire is that it's too stale and inept to inspire laughter: it can only elicit weary groans.

Though it's hard not to miss the gloriously messy sprawl of Pavement at their peak, this carefully crafted, languid recasting of their signature sound is effective and winds up as a fitting, bittersweet farewell for the best band of the '90s.

Squiggling past looping divas, afternoon glares, and funkadelic body bops, De Crecy manages to manufacture a trail of songs that reach for that Anglo-French brass ring with nothing but admirable gravitas.

This Is the Moment is both the best Donny Osmond album ever made and conclusive evidence that the former teen idol, who was 43 when it was released, is never going to be more than a pleasant, modestly talented singer.

Constantly yields new musical surprises.

Because Knight seamlessly incorporates a 2001 music sensibility to this recording, At Last can comfortably sit alongside works by Destiny's Child, Toni Braxton, Faith Evans, and other younger musical counterparts.

She freely mixes hip-hop, Latin, R&B, rock, and trip-hop into a uniquely enticing mix that quickly identifies her as an adventurous artist along the line of Angie Stone, Jill Scott and Lauryn Hill.

As both a high-class artifact and a gift to a loyal fan base, Machina II is a welcome winner.

For the most part the results are solid, limited only by some unimaginative arrangements and an unfortunate tendency toward repetitive refrains.

An all around flavor of melancholy as the loose guitars and laid back current result in the labeling of "Rainy Day indie."

As this 15-song collection bounces between covers and tuneful originals slightly less memorable than their big hits, it occurs to you that this must be how Hootie & the Blowfish sounded in the Southern college bars before they recorded Cracked Rear View. They're amiable, good-humored, earnest, and as likeable as the local band that also played "Driver 8" every Saturday night.

This rather bizarre disc is something of a self-aggrandizing concept album. In song after song, Josie sings about how off-beat, sensual, and unique she is...

The concert, especially in its last half, comes off as highly sentimental, which is appropriate to the occasion, while the whole thing comes off as highly self-referential, which is inevitable for a Streisand performance.

The collection is a little cobbled together, with an ill-conceived rap from Q-Tip over "Goodbye Pork Pie Hat" and a sparse, unfunky reading of "Cumbia Jazz Fusion," but the former Policeman's bright guitar work works hard at tying it all together.

The long-awaited release from former Grateful Dead icon Bob Weir's jam band Ratdog shouldn't disappoint hungry Deadheads.

Between these two bookends ['Indian Summer and 'Why Do Men Stray'] is the most consistent music DeGraw has yet made--yes, it gets a tad simpy and he could use at least one hook as big as 'I Don't Wanna Be,' but Free manages to flow easily and warmly, something that couldn't quite be said of the blue-eyed soul bluster of his first two albums.

Ten singles--these voices could have used some better material--but the album will likely please most of the fan base, as it is a rather skillful update of the familiar.

As a record in 2010, the ten songs are an unapologetic throwback, not quite distinctive enough to suggest that a reevaluation of the band is in order, but certainly pleasing for fans -- and even if you're not a fan, it's hard not to be a little pleased that this forgotten chapter in the band's history has been published.

This is a middle-of-the-road pop album pure and simple, arriving perhaps two years too late but it nevertheless proves that Archuleta has the chops to fill the space between commercials on the airwaves.

None of these tunes can compete with the band's singles, of course, but that's not the point, since No Chocolate Cake sets its sights on maintaining the band's audience rather than reclaiming a spot in the mainstream.

Ultimately, the EP is fast and fun, but its songs are so fleeting that even if the concept is a cool idea, the end result is too disjointed to be anything more than a one-listen novelty.

All in all, this is more than a holding action between real Girl in a Coma albums -- they've chosen good songs, and put their own spin on them.

Some 13 years after he cut an MTV Unplugged album, Adams decided to once again strip down his songs to acoustic, to take them down to their Bare Bones, to coin a phrase that's used for the title of this 2010 collection.

Besides whittling the number of special guests down from three to one, casual fans will have problems telling this one from his previous release, but these ten smooth cuts go down easy and give no sign the formula has stopped working.

There are no embarrassing moments or dated sounds on House; just really great, slick and breezy pop.

Although the musicians ... play often furious hard rock, the mix allows a few of singer John Falls' lyrics to be lost.

Knight has a certain hunger to his performance, giving these steely, cluttered soundscapes a semblance of warmth which makes it a far cry better than the cold calculation of The Block.

This is Bolton doing what he does best, and doing it so well that anybody who picks this up thinking it's a compilation won't be disappointed with what resides inside.

This Loud Morning winds up as an album that's primarily textural mood music for the morning, and one that's not all that loud either.

Tara Nevins, a member of Donna the Buffalo, released her debut solo album, Mule to Ride, in 1999, and only in 2011, 12 years later, got around to her second, Wood and Stone. It's been worth the wait, however.

If a new artist released an album as strong and well-crafted as Roses at the End of Time as their debut, they'd likely be hailed as a major new force on the contemporary singer/songwriter scene; just because it's the work of a seasoned veteran doesn't mean it's too late for Gilkyson to be celebrated as a talent deserving of a larger and wider recognition.

Not all music is obligated to provide happy, cheerful escapism; dark lyrics certainly have their place as well, and dark lyrics are the rule on And Hell Will Follow Me, which falls short of remarkable but is nonetheless a solid and inspired, if derivative, debut from A Pale Horse Named Death.

Rather than simply target kids of today, Barenaked Ladies have crafted a children's pop album inspired by their own '70s/'80s childhoods.

On Am I the Enemy?, the guys consolidate their strengths and clean up the mess that Lonely Road left behind, focusing instead on the sort of emo-influenced alt-rock that reaches for the rafters without losing sight of the ground.

Even when just kidding around, Shatner proves himself to be an exacting master of his craft, and more than a few times on Seeking Major Tom the joke is clearly on us.

For all the collective and wonderful helium hysteria to be had, it has to be said that the pre-album release "Moon Jocks N Prog Rocks" does steal the show in the end.

Ultimately, 777: The Desanctification is a worthy answer to its predecessor, even as it expresses the more experimental side of Blut Aus Nord's sound arsenal.

Ultimately, Christmas is a warm and inviting album that showcases Bublé's impeccable vocal chops.

Levine's muted vocals bring an understated drama to the proceedings, making these tales of heartbreak and disappointment so aching and raw that they're almost hard to listen to. There are no happy endings here, but every emotional nuance rings true.

What's enjoyable about Yuksek is that he still conveys a kind of dreamy winsomeness that, at many times subtly, contrasts against the out-and-out exuberance of a song.

It's all fresh and vigorous, very much in the present and built to last.

Driver feels composed more than written, not in a way that elevates or alienates, but rather one that draws the ear to each presence in a landscape that shifts, unfolds, and surrounds; a quietly intense ride and mix recommended for headphone listening.

Return to Forever follows suit very much, with the 12 new songs here embodying the same over the top celebration and hedonistic revelry of a much younger Scorpions. At times the throwbacks are a little transparent.

The nifty thing about Cosmic Hallelujah is that it plays as if it's a passion project: Chesney is determined to connect with his times without abandoning himself, and the result is one of his best records.

An assured singer, she settles into a hushed, urgent intimacy for Kelsea, an approach that suits the songs and her intent and also helps make the whole stylish production seem genuinely intimate.

Yet another effortless display of ear-bending production, wild energy, and creative synergy from a team of preternaturally blessed artists.

Emergent Diddy protégé Jozzy shines on the slow-grinding funk of "It Belongs to You." Another highlight with brilliantly nuanced live instrumentation, "Moments," is Justin Bieber's new exhibit A in arguing his case as an R&B artist. .... Diddy for the most part is his typical self, ceding enough room for each singer and rapper while interjecting some conversational wisdom, relationship analysis, and random chatter with occasional bluster.