Like John Mellencamp and Bruce Springsteen, Stewart has done a reasonably good job of making his music millennium-friendly without alienating aging baby boomers for whom the occasional Tom Waits cover is adventure enough.

Quasi's only mistake might be that it made this album too long; it clocks in at over 50 minutes. Such tracks as "Seal the Deal" and "Little Lord Fontleroy" show the limitations of a duo, and, at times, Quasi's basic keyboard and drums approach lacks a sense of wholeness and tends to meander.

While the soul-searching is utterly sincere, the music is only intermittently successful.

Without the dread, the songs can come across without drama.

While most of the mixing is clean and effortless, it is also often unspectacular. Furthermore, the decided lack of turntable wizardry certainly won't earn him a "DJ Dan" moniker among vinyl mavens. But in terms of selection and overall execution, Monkey is a very nice listen.

Unfortunately, a couple of the early tunes are so slick as to lose all feeling, while some of the lyrics are dumber than a doormat, but as party albums go, this will keep you up for a while.

Throughout the mix, Oakenfold follows the proven formula of prefacing more beat-heavy, climactic tracks -- such as Max Graham's "Airtight" and Tone Depth's "Majestic" -- with otherworldly vocals-only tracks by Dead Can Dance and Sabel, among others. The build-up is no doubt effective on the dance floor -- where Oakenfold excels -- but the effect sounds a bit repetitive after the first few occurrences.

Somewhat of a Squarepusher overview: digitally diced, partially digested, and sometimes brutally regurgitated, of course.

Like many a club anthem, Chicane's massive tracks have a formulaic feel.

Although there are no ballads as moving as "Hello," "Truly," or "Say You, Say Me," the album does offer a nice collection of pop tracks that, for the most part, don't suffer from the stiflingly bland over-production that's characterized other adult-contemporary albums of recent years.

With 18 songs that clock in at over 63 minutes, The Hour of Bewilderbeast meanders too much, and the quirky pacing (there are many random instrumental interludes) makes it difficult to enjoy as a whole. But taken in sections, it's a bit of a grower.

An album that takes a dramatic leap forward from the wafer-thin reggae he was peddling on his debut album...

It's a tribute to Williams' almost delusional self-confidence that he sounds equally at home no matter what the musical form; he invests each track with an energy many of them don't deserve.

Tweekend certainly isn't mind-blowing or revolutionary, but it's abundantly clear that the Crystal Method has found its sound: the hard rock and hip-hop influences that inflected Vegas move to the forefront, and the tempo comes down a few notches, thus emphasizing thunderous bass and hardcore head-bobbing.

While the band's sound is unique, too many of the remaining ten songs play like slight variations of each other, and few of them stick.

Neither as sonically striking or politically conscious as Cornershop's well-received 1997 release, When I Was Born for the Seventh Time, Disco and the Halfway to Discontent is definitely the type of album a band can make when success provides an opportunity to experiment.

Like her two previous solo records, Merchant's stately gloom is the stuff of pretension and precision, and her serviceably beautiful voice comes off as either darkly charming or annoyingly lilting (sometimes both at the same time).

While the band's trademarked, reverb-drenched riffs remain, they're now intermingled with lots of skronks, bleeps, and clicks... After a sluggish start, most of what's here works as well as anything in the vast Man or Astro-Man? catalogue.

But just as a couple of cool originals on its debut distinguished Orgy from the Antichrist Superstar cover bands current working the bar circuit, if only slightly, so too do a clutch of strong tunes on this, its second album.

Pedestrian? Sure. But in '01, it's doubtful you'll find a more apt soundtrack to a summer of skyrocketing gas prices and stock market tumblings.

Really, it's not as bad as it sounds.

But for all these guests and all of Silkk's versatility, My World, My Way still suffers from the same formulaic production -- all bleating synths and skittering drum programs -- that makes all No Limit productions seem indistinguishable.

Faces and Names' new sonic explorations are a welcome change from the early '90s alt-rock sound Soul Asylum had bludgeoned into the ground, though the lyrics here don't approach Pirner's best.

Highly Evolved is clunkiest on long, drawn-out stuff like "Homesick" and "Country Yard," but singer Craig Nicholls has most of Kurt Cobain's shrieking mannerisms down, and, like most grunge, the band's simple three-chord rock is most exciting when played extremely fast.

There are a few winners here among the brick-and-mortar alt-flak -- which the band is wholeheartedly capable of as well...

But the Dave Matthews Band retains one essential ingredient that transcends Everyday's calculated pop: Dave Matthews. With his sassy, unassuming swagger, unique vocal delivery, and blatant sexual urgency, Matthews carries the load amply...

The Tight Connection's unfussiness would be the perfect playground soundtrack.

On Atomic, the band unveils a sharper pop-rock sound, one that's so infectiously catchy that you'll feel like an inoculation is in order.