They still emphasize meditative atmosphere and near-whispered melody. [#10, p.120]

If you buried Bob Dylan's Blood On The Tracks in a graveyard for 200 years and then dug it up, it would sound like this corroded, bottom-heavy music. [#11, p.134]

Honors shifts in style over substance. [#11, p.124]

Osborne clearly believes that her love for this material gives her the right to make it her own--which she does, convincingly. [#10, p.125]

Ladytron's doom-laden arrangements feel as accomplished as Radiohead jamming with the Pet Shop Boys. [#10, p.120]

A handful of affectionate Neil Young pastiches, a rocked-up hymn, and some tipsily swaying ballads. [#10, p.122]

With innovative, funk-influenced beats and engaging rhymes, Lif brilliantly avoids the pitfalls of vacuous bling-drones and 'real hip-hop" whiners alike. [#10, p.124]

It improves on the debut, slightly. [#10, p.114]

Parish is at his best on songs that, for all their avant-garde trappings, are eloquent enough not to need lyrics. [#10, p.125]

So low-key that even the amplified instruments sound semi-acoustic. [#10, p.116]

You've heard it all before--at least twice. [#10, p.128]

May demand close listening compared to the boisterous immediacy of most dance efforts, but it proves utterly entrancing. [#10, p.120]

A vibrant, classy debut. [#10, p.126]

Like Morcheeba at their worst. [#10, p.124]

Full of hard beats and soft sells. [#11, p.136]

Brilliantly restrained throughout, ESG's sparse, mechanical funk remains unique and vital. [#12, p.142]

Most of the tracks don't quite rise above their obvious influences, Radiohead and U2. [#10, p.118]

An album that continues their mission of yanking bluegrass into the modern era. [#9, p.149]

While cliches abound... this huge music is delivered with panache. [#9, p.154]

In all, Eve achieves enough balance to continue reigning as hip-hop's most popular femme-fatale M.C. {#11, p.130]

The sound is simultaneously terse and expansive--moody and powerful, shot through with singer Chris Martin's grainy delivery. [#9, p.145]

30STM manage a high-minded space opera of epic scope befitting prog-rock prototypes Rush. [#9, p.142]

A growth statement even diehard fans of its debut couldn't have expected. [#8, p.122]

Lost in Space... pushes her in a new direction. [#9, p.152]

Sheik's sparklingly clear voice and subtly tricky guitar shifts transcend the pop-rock melodies. [#10, p.126]

Its surging orchestrations and and acoustic subtelties seem willfully out of step with current trends, taking time to reveal their unique, and very British, charms.

Merritt's lyrics are typically playful, and Claudia Gonson coos them with dreamy detachment. [#9, p.146]

They resemble a Seattle version of Iggy and the Stooges. [#9, p.152]

Case's own melodies aren't nearly as indelible as the country classics she's emulating. [#10, p.115]

The Mekons can do anything, because no one told them they couldn't, and they do it better than almost anyone else. [#9, p.152]

Liars are more about energy than solid songwriting, but these spastic, jagged grooves are powerful enough to inspire a sea of awkward punk-rock dances. [#9, p.150]

Superfine pop moments never stifle the underlying Jamaican flavor... even if Beenie sometimes sounds a bit like a guest on his own album. [#10, p.114]

Singer-songwriter Britt Daniel's gift for obtuse yet engaging melody is now where it ought to be: up front. [#9, p.155]

Bright Lights isn't a trudging soundtrack to depression; it's laced with upbeat, albeit bittersweet, songwriting. [#9, p.148]

His choked yelp and hootenanny backing suggest fun should be had. It isn't. [#10, p.116]

The album's fine pedigree might have worked in a more conservative era. [#9, p.144]

S-K swagger like they never have before, eschewing the filler that made their last few records drag. [#9, p.157]

The details on October Road are exquisite, especially his tricky singing and deft acoustic guitar. [#9, p.155]

It's in the quieter moments that Sparta truly shine. [#9, p.154]

A radiant collection of pure pop songs. [#10, p.125]

Her genius is not to let herself be trapped in yesterday. [#9, p.144]

If Dido had a thing for madrigals and a suite of neuroses, she might sound this interesting. [#9, p.146]

The Ritalin generation may have found its Bob Dylan. [#9, p.143]

Though Moorer's lyrics sometimes slide from smart to schmaltzy, her superb singing ensures that every tune on Miss Fortune is incandescent. [#10, p.122]

Any collection that encompasses A Guy Called Gerald's peerless dance anthem "Voodoo Ray" and Joy Division's exquisite "Atmosphere" is "double double good," as the Happy Mondays' drug-addled singer Shaun Ryder used to quip. [#9, p.158]

The parade of midtempo soul-pop snoozers and funk-lite fluff is no more memorable than Soul Asylum's last record. Which is to say, not very. [#9, p.153]

The sitar flourishes ini "Splitting Atoms" are muted by Learning's adult sheen, which lands this unusual record in an awkward middle ground between Bjork and, say, Oleta Adams. [#9, p.150]

Filter adhere to the blueprint laid down by the breakthrough power ballad "Take a Picture"... with such anguished arena sing-alongs as "The Missing" and "The Only Way Is the Wrong Way." [#9, p.146]

X is hindered by a glut of ballads and plodders. [#9, p.144]

Linkin gain from their hip-hop daring, and the dance domos get to wedge a foot in the crossover door. [#9, p.151]

Beginning with "Further On (Up The Road)," Springsteen finds his footing and rides out the album on a stirring high note. [#9, p.140]

Thompson's pure, effortlessly soaring vocals feel undimmed by time. [#9, p.156]

The gorgeous arrangements are still firmly in place, and the wavery vocals more earnest than ever. [#9, p.143]

"Beer for My Horses," a rangy duet with Willie Nelson, and easy grooves like "Ain't It Just Like You" don't chase away the overbearing taste of "Red, White and Blue," the album's centerpiece first single. [#9, p.150]

Successful imitation requires a kind of talent, too. [#9, p.156]

This is simply a useful rampage through the best and worst impulses of the most important group in hip-hop history. [#9, p.153]

The Lillywhite songs are mostly improved here. [#8, p.119]

For the tunnel-visioned Zeppelin fan, there's enough vintage Plant here to hold interest. [#8, p.121]

If you're this good, it's not hype. [#8, p.126]

A gently involving and moving album, Yoshimi could be the negative image of Radiohead's Kid A: the sound of a rock band using electronica to make music that's inclusive and warm instead of icy and aloof. [#8, p.114]

They still can't overcome their addiction to sugar. [#9, p.152]

YYY cram their furious music full of twists and spasmic enthusiasm, filling every second with motion. [#8. p.127]

She spices mountain purism with rich instrumental and vocal harmony. [#9, p.153]

The material sinks or swims on the quality of [Duritz's] brooding. [#8, p.116]

Essentially Californication 2, a reprise of their last album. [#9, p.142]

Loewenstein manages a decent impersonation of, well, Sebadoh, undercutting his bright melodies and morose shrugs with caustic bass lines. [#8, p.118]

A great deal, unfortunately, fall into chugga-lugga tedium. [#9, p.148]

Sounds like a band back on track. [#8, p.120]

What makes this more than just efficient dance-floor fodder are the guest vocalists. [#9, p.158]

Sure, it's commercial, but Rosey's expert melding of dance beats and hippie dippiness adds up to a debut slick with beatnik cool. [#8, p.122]

Glorious, distorted drill-press guitar riffs. [#13, p.103]

They've got more sweet-and-bitter guitar muscle than ever. [#8, p.122]

A further step forward. [Jun/Jul 2002, p.102]

Nellyville will be the year's only record with a bigger-than-life number with Justin Timberlake, a capable ballad with Destiny's Child's Kelly Rowland, an acute dis of preachy rap veteran KRS-One, and an ode to the hip-hop footwear of choice. [#8, p.120]

The best songs have concise melodies and a likeable punch. The worst just sound like sketches, riffs a more traditionally ambitious group would have discarded. [#8, p.116]

Bunkka proves he can't write songs to save his slipmats. [#8, p.120]

A thoughtfully constructed delight. [#8, p.126]

A more crunchingly bare-bones record all around. [#8, p.123]

His voice comes as sharp as a rusty switchblade. [#8, p.125]

Even Booth's uncanny vocal resemblance to Bono isn't enough to keep this overlong set interesting. [#10, p.118]

It may not hold the attention of anyone who's been out of diapers more than five years. [#8, p.124]

[Slug is] suddenly one of the best alt-rappers around. [#9, p.143]

Their best, most expansive album. [#8, p.112]

A sound that is almost vintage Bowie.... Even so, many of these 12 perfectly harmless songs plod where instead they should spring. [#8, p.115]

Her lustrous music can err on the side of sleepy, because she prefers atmospherics and tricky harmonies to blaring hooks. [Apr/May 2002, p.116]

Her solo debut... spruces up a vintage style--'80s SoCal new wave--with lyrical twists. [#8, p.126]

Lavigne splices the angst of Alanis Morissette and the snarl of Courtney Love into a debut full of sunny guitar pop. [#8, p.115]

As likely to put you to sleep as influence your choice in cars. [#8, p.116]

Utterly entrancing. [Jun/Jul 2002, p.104]

Two long, draggy pieces near the end of The Private Press are its only intimations of mortality. [Jun/Jul 2002, p.102]

This is the least austere record they've ever made, and the fresh air helps their odd, raw narratives flourish. [#8, p.122]

Loudboxer stands apart from other utilitarian dance music in its hypnotic sense of space. [#8, p.124]

Recalls The Bride Stripped Bare, Ferry's 1978 art-R&B lament. [#8, p.116]

Unfortunately, the songs on Title TK are mostly half-written train wrecks. [Jun/Jul 2002, p.103]

For the most part, the formula still works fine. [Jun/Jul 2002, p.107]

Vapor Trails combines the cartoonish familiarity of Geddy Lee's helium-tinged vocals and [Neil] Peart's hyperkinetic drumming with the tuneful, concise writing they've favored since 1989's Presto. [Jun/Jul 2002, p.113]

[Deadsy's] interchangeable keyboard noodling and flat, faintly robotic vocals will excite only those desperate for labelmates Orgy to hurry up and knock out another album. [Jun/Jul 2002, p.104]

Maladroit feels like a bloodless quest to write the perfect song. [Jun/Jul 2002, p.100]