Hitting the Ground is flat-out clever, cool, and cocky.

With the gleaming, self-aware production as well as both Danny Vicious' embarrassing rapping and Elisabeth Troy's overly soulful vocals, it's clear that Cole wants respect at every turn. Despite the consequences.

Muzikizum is informed by a slim, spare aesthetic that sounds more 1992 than 2002, evoking simply produced, imperial-sounding tracks from Spooky and Leftfield; in other words, the glory days of progressive house.

It might come off as too much of a mish-mash if not for the tongue-in-cheek glee with which Leroy pulls it off.

This is much more melodic and poppy than most dance fodder sharing similar beats...

Rather than moving through a broad palette of sounds, moods, tempos, and styles, the two British DJs choose to remain consistent, signaling the development of a signature style and a certain sense of confidence.

This record is really nothing more than a collection of sharp, witty, well-constructed pop songs.

The album has a more polished feel than its predecessor Up a Tree, as well as more of an electronica vibe...

Whereas many of the songs on their previous album sounded unfinished and rushed, The Night sounds like a fully realized work.

His authoritative vocals demand immediate attention and his brutal array of battle rhymes are utterly breathtaking.... While the pugilistic MC shows growth as an artist, Canibus' vast potential remains largely unrealized thanks to bland production.

Harking back to the glory days of late-'80s acid-house, it's heavy on dark club jams that work around a simplistic sample with diva theatrics and rapper freestyles. As such, most of these tracks work much better on the dancefloor than the living room.

The mix of frothy pop with a strange flavor makes this disc particularly compelling.

Here there's a slightly warmer feeling. More central, tweaked vocals add a new dimension to the "hard beats + bittersweet melodies" pattern of the past; songs like the gorgeous, ice-melting "Zoetrope" glide along on simple celestial glimmers without a single bass-line in sight.

The musical redefinitions taken on by the Cherry Poppin' Daddies seemed to be creatively suiting and for the listeners who take time to believe in it Soul Caddy will be impressively surprising.

Heather Nova has ventured out on South, delving into the pop side for her own inventions. Fans who aren't accepting of such a move might be critical; new listeners might find South her easiest album.

Returning with another studio album at the start of 2002, Steve Cobby and David McSherry busied themselves demonstrating their fluency with the wide range of sounds contemporary electronica draws on, but also revealed a few new influences as well.

For the most part, this is more of the same, which disciples will have no qualms about.

Though Speedy J does pure techno as good as he did his earlier experimental productions, it's a shame he's gotten back to the kind of tracks that DJ Hyperactive could be knocking out in his sleep.

This is a kaleidiscope of pop culture arcania and it's witty too... pure, simple, hard-rocking, giddy fun.

He is honest, without offending, and gives the impression that he genuinely has no biases -- he's just a curious observer of life. And the world, through Rollins' eyes, is an interesting, offbeat, and funny place.

Caught somewhere between the breezy, intricate Sea and Cake and the well-mannered orchestration of Rachel's, the band fills a space that is often vied for, yet not usually attained.

Unless you are a huge Timo Maas fan, it will probably be more Maas than you can handle.

If it was Gedge's intent to win back some of the Wedding Present fans who found Va Va Voom to be too much of a departure, Disco Volante could succeed in that regard. With Weddoes guitarist Simon Cleave now a full-fledged member, there's some of the trademark late '80s/early '90s roar apparent in the likes of "146 Degrees" and "Your Charms"; but whether or not that and crisp drums fit snugly alongside French horn and accordion is debatable.

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.

Beneath the Velvet Sun is the uneven work of a talented artist who doesn't seem to trust the idiosyncratic approach that brought him to national attention enough to really let himself go. You can hardly blame him for trying to play it safe, given his one-hit wonder status, but the album's very bow to commercialism may keep it from being the hit it might have been.

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.

If Revelation doesn't actually hold any, well, revelations, that shouldn't be held against the band, since they do wind up turning out a perfectly acceptable mainstream dance-pop album.

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.