She keeps the tone light and playful, but her shopaholic-hottie raps seem written for someone with less emotional baggage. [Nov 2006, p.145]

Trademark G-Unit, pakced with a few thunderous club jams and too little else. [Oct 2006, p.128]

Mostly he just sounds bored, a pretty boy tired of being denied his inner turmoil.

The album could easily have come from Boards of Canada or any number of downcast groups--if it were shorter. [May 2008, p.78]

Sadly it's undercut by music that tirns Brian Wilson into merely another Brian Wilson imitator. [Sep 2008, p.85]

They've grown noticeably more centered and serious-minded--and maturity was the last thing that needed to happen to them. [Jul 2006, p.99]

Weezer dwells on his well-documented obsessions with bad girlfriends and geek nostalgia, but without the usual giddy, mathematically precise songcraft.

The protest ballads plod, and even the song about praying for God to drown the president sounds more weary than pissed. The Nightwatchman is that rare crusader whose secret identity is more exciting than his alter ego.

Anything involving a string section is disastrous, but a couple of choruses are suitable for both raucous fist-pumping and rampant pouting.

Surprisingly pedestrian. [Nov 2005, p.134]

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

Simon wasn't born to sing over drum & bass. [Jun 2006, p.148]

They fluctuate between those two poles while their by-the-book hard rock continues to split the difference between Black Crowes and Guns N’ Roses--though no longer with the wit that fueled their coke-y 1999 breakout, 'Lit Up.'

Beneath the heavy petting, he displays a pleasant touch for soft '70s soul.

These ringers are lively, and complement one another surprisingly well. So why is the record so underwhelming? That’d be the men at the helm.

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.

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

When he tries to get serious... Drew comes across as nothing more than a self-important shock artist, way out of his element.

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

His once-believable menace comes off as forced caricature. [May 2007, p.109]

It’s strange and sometimes fascinating to hear R.E.M.’s oldest songs played so differently, though vintage tracks are rare in a set concentrating on 2004’s mostly inert "Around the Sun."

Like his debut, is a coffeehouse classical-guitar-and-voice affair long on tonal beauty but short on melody and emotion. [Sep 2007, p.126]

Some Loud Thunder is certainly uncompromising--which isn't the same thing as "good," although it's got a handful of very good moments. [Mar 2007, p.131]

Despite its boldness, Perfect Symmetry is as swollen with corny grandeur as a political convention, guided by the delusion that a pompous speech somehow becomes fun if it’s accompanied by a balloon drop.

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

Song after song in praise of ass, thongs and female compliance. [Aug 2005, p.116]

After contributing smart songs and sly vocals to Al Green’s 2008 Lay It Down, Anthony Hamilton seemed poised for a breakthrough. This isn’t it.

Throughout, the Foos are as tight as ever, even if the songs are mostly unmemorable. [Oct 2007, p.108]