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

Doughty’s fourth and best solo album gives up two keepers: the semi-absurdist 'More Bacon Than the Pan Can Handle,' with Stephanie Bischoff’s guest vocals sexier for sure than any synth weirdness Soul Coughing ever confabulated, and the mournfully understated Iraq opener, 'Fort Hood.'

Xzibit reinvents himself as a rapper invigorated by current events. [Nov 2004, p.146]

He tries to atone on the bluesey and somber 'Cadillac on 22's Part 2,' but--like much of this album--the sequel is a downgrade compared to its wrenching and confessional original. [Aug 2008, p.82]

Fireflies' best songs are varied-tempo singalongs--this isn't hardcore but anthemic country. [Oct 2005, p.138]

Woodruff is never anything but coweringly passive, a trait about as appealing as it is annoying. [Apr 2006, p.112]

Her signature sound -- voice snarling through a tangle of massed guitars -- is here, but so is a softer, more vulnerable tone. The melodies, while radio-ready, have a stomping insistence.

When Cornell strains for significance, he squeezes the life out of his music. [Jun 2007, p.105]

They still have plenty of growl left in them. [Aug 2004, p.133]

Here, [Saliva] temper their mid-tempo crunch with '80s-metal guitar heroics and Southern-rock fundamentalism. [Sep 2004, p.141]

At worst, the wordy Travistan borders on hectoring... At his danceable best, Morrison ingeniously manifests his big concepts and even bigger heart. [Nov 2004, p.138]

While straying from metal's path, they uphold its legacy of conservative politics. [Nov 2007, p.148]

Even the strongest songs... are hobbled by sickly vocals and Mick Jones's pallid, needle-thin production. [Mar 2006, p.109]

There's no great leap into maturity... They've kept their salient feature--scorching, adolescent tantrums--unchanged. [Jun 2007, p.109]

R.E.M.'s recent albums have increasingly resembled singer-songwriter records. Around The Sun is much the best of the last three... because the tunes are better. [Nov 2004, p.140]

Snoop sounds great without saying anything he hasn't already said many times... Which is a testament to his abilities, but it's a bit disappointing, too. [Sep 2004, p.132]

Seal remains one of the best half-dozen male pop singers drawing breath. [Sep 2003, p.129]

There's nothing here that you couldn't hear blaring out of a thousand suburban garages on any Saturday night. [#4, p.118]

[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]

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

Get past Roth’s pinched-sinus tone and penchant for overpronounced internal rhyme and he is a different animal [than Eminem].

In attempting to be energetic, the band merely sounds busy. [Jun/Jul 2001, p.105]

The Denver foursome is spectacularly anonymous: poignant enough to bring out the waterworks, but generic enough not to get in the way of someone else’s story--making them the perfect soundtrack for prime-time melodrama.

They sound like just another rock band. The thing is, they're a fine rock band. [May 2005, p.119]

The record feels uneven, as the oscillation between frivolous and serious makes both less convincing. [Nov 2003, p.108]

His flat baritone suggests he’s still new at this whole “getting angry” thing, but the dude’s got the damaged part down.

More tuneful and less experimental than their debut. [Aug 2005, p.113]

Unfortunately, the production smoothes down the band's sharp edges to an overly polished finish. [Jun/Jul 2001, p.116]

Aguilera cowrote most of the songs, and she sounds surer of her themes than [Britney] Spears did in a similar I'm-coming-out role last year. [#12, p.138]

New touches only further dilute P.O.D.'s already watered-down sound. [Jan/Feb 2006, p.96]

What's the point of a cheesy goth-pop record that isn't any fun? [May 2006, p.105]

It's quite a feat: crushing, weighty themes conveyed via music that floats in a netherworld a few steps off the ground. [Dec 2003, p.144]

Robinson establishes himself as a distinctive singer, his world-weary yet optimistic drawl no longer beholden to the rock larynxes of yore. [#11, p.140]

Its penitent but hopeful mood still suggests a Catholic equivalent of corporate Christian rock

He's labored, bombastic and pitch-challenged.... The lyrics are embarrassing. [Aug 2004, p.143]

Their new boss's hooks are often slicke rand less arresting than the minor-key grit they thrive on. [Jun 2006, p.142]

On their self-titled fourth album, one colon-blowing mid-tempo after another shows the strain.

Instead of the rumbling epics of their later records... we get patient but ultraconcise miniatures. [Jun/Jul 2001, p.113]

That it doesn't dissolve into kitsch and comedy is a tribute to Mika's gifts. [Apr 2007, p.118]

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

With help from someone who’s been through it all and had time to think about it twice, Carlton has made music for growing-ups that is neither cloying nor pretentious.... Yet a sneaking sense remains that she can reach deeper.

Like [David Gray and Damien Rice], Powter writes faceless tunes landmined with unsubtle hooks that can devour your brain in less time than it takes for an expert barista to whip up a cappuccino. [Jun 2006, p.143]

He's done it before, and better. [Oct 2006, p.135]

This album, the second from Angels and Airwaves, is thick with U2-aping major-chord bluster and well-meaning meaninglessness.

Skips from one song to the next without leaving any great impression or displaying a single sentiment Jessica Simpson would find distressing. [#4, p.118]

Another brazenly varried set. [Oct 2005, p.142]

Skimps on warmth and even grit except on a few blood-curdling screams--when, blessedly, you don't have to hear their words. [Nov 2003, p.119]

He has nimble delivery and a pleasing Nelly-esque hiccup to his voice. [May 2008, p.78]

Young sounds fresher here than he has in nearly a decade. [Apr/May 2002, p.110]

Many beats... sound cheap, and many rhymes... trade drama for tough-guy same-old. [Oct 2004, p.128]

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

Our suggestion for a more honest band name: Used Cars. [Jul 2006, p.100]

The format is so rambling and fragmented that is serves neither Poe the storyteller noor Reed the songwriter. [#13, p.97]

Isn't so much minimalist as just plain minimal. [Aug 2003, p.120]

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

What's titillating about Damita Jo isn't some easy flash of sexuality, but the varied soundbeds that Jackson and her producers create to house her love games, and the confidence with which she plays. [May 2004, p.116]

Welcome to tonight's Very Special Episode of pop-punk. [Nov 2004, p.130]

Simple pleasures rarely get any simpler--or more good-natured. [Dec 2007, p.152]

Her lyrics drown in anti-gangsta correctives... but her best tracks transcend daily affirmations. [Jul 2006, p.96]

Problem is, 23-year-old frontman James Walsh remains the same sap. [Jan 2004, p.109]

One can't help but miss Erasure's old-school glee. [Apr 2005, p.116]

Mostly plays it safe. [Nov 2005, p.140]

The resulting batch of songs... just pad out the duller bits of blink, then add walls of mid-'80s-era U2 guitar chimes. [Jun 2006, p.136]

For Beep Beep, New Wave means not zippy synth-pop but the brute force of '70s punk turned into screwed-up yet finely calibrated outbursts. [Sep 2004, p.134]

He devotes himself largely to unremarkable romance chronicles and blandly competent hooks. [Oct 2007, p.107]

Being shallow and immature is both his strength and his weakness. [Apr 2003, p.131]

There's something undeniably irritating but strangely satisfying about lyrics so baldly declarative, especially over riffs this explosive. [Jun 2006, p.144]

Cook's dance music has seen better days. [Oct 2004, p.115]

Exceptional, exemplary grown-up rock. [#4, p.120]

Even when he tries to make a connection between pickup lines and international tension, in “Made of Codes,” Peñate never forgets that even quasi-protest songs need a good beat.

The results are disappointingly uneven. [Oct/Nov 2001, p.103]

Every track emerges as ugly and joyless as the one before. [Oct 2004, p.127]

Their third albums smells less of revivalist chic than tribute-band nostalgia. New wave knockoffs have rarely sounded so old.

The MC turns largely to the Neptunes for music, and their lithe, bombastic space-porno sonatas provide a vitality and playfulness he’s still capable of matching. But a string of increasingly awkward and thoroughly ludicrous sex jams finds him slapping asses, and may leave his devotees smacking their foreheads.

The only standout is "Down On The Corner," built around the ear-pricking chords and lithe grace that stamp Marr's best work. [#14, p.139]

Producer Desmond Child trips up the Meatman by valuing metal flash over the altruism of want-you-need-you humanity.

In striving for Zen-like purity, the songs often end up eerily blank. [Jul 2005, p.122]

Kracker's Southernisms feel a little rote and undigested. [Aug 2004, p.142]

The hipster thrills are fading. [Oct 2004, p.116]

[An] entertaining album. [Apr 2005, p.119]

J. Lo's music has been upgraded from quite bad to merely bad. [Dec 2007, p.148]

The default setting is funk-pop bombast augmented by horribly dated electronica. [Nov 2004, p.128]

The production feels lethargic and unmelodic... and Foxx's lyrics are all corny come-ons and cheesy sentimentalisms. [Mar 2006, p.113]

It's hard to catch much buzz off fun that sounds so much like work. [Dec 2006, p.170]

More Bon Jovi than Blur, bloated with stadium-friendly power ballads. [Jun/Jul 2002, p.106]

It's refreshing to hear a band approach the form's familiar imagery from a place of romance, not cynicism. [Oct 2005, p.138]

Even the best of these tracks lack the grimy menace of the most thrilling Neptunes beats. [Sep 2006, p.147]

It's fun enough, until the interminable breakup theme that drags down the second half. [Dec 2004, p.136]

There’s only so much even a metal fan can swallow.

A startlingly generic effort. [Sep 2003, p.120]

A long-winded, soulless soul album of the kind Levert might have once turned in. [#4, p.117]

He sticks defiantly to formula, hustling a string of synth-heavy, syncopated club jams. [#14, p.134]

Album three aims for maturity, but the results are stunted.

While his band's skeletal, rattling rhythms, swollen with synthesizer and studio ornamentation, feel more multidimensional than ever, Davis is most compelling when he retreats into the third person to describe an unnamed, uninspired singer with a "dumb-ass song" ('Ever Be').

This is rock theater of the most uninspired kind. [Aug 2004, p.136]

It's hard to find LL in the crowd. [Jun 2006, p.141]

Rimes's gigantic soprano never flags, yet remains best in ballads. [#11, p.140]

Feels like surprisingly generic party rap. [May 2004, p.126]