The band has energy and urgency anew.

Walk's mellow mood sidesteps the usual overly melodramatic soundtrack hoo-ha for a journey that works as well on the stereo as it does on the screen.

Stone navigates her way with confidence and prowess, passion and experimentation.

The B. Coming attempts to document the emotional upheaval Sigel went through during his trial and conviction, but from the start the sober moral tone and forced gospel choruses make it obvious the MC's mind is on other matters.

They've updated fuzzy '90s-era alternative rock while tinkering with becoming Northern Ireland's answer to Coldplay.

This gem glistens with bumpin' hits by Nelly, Clipse, Snoop Dogg and others.

Crazy and fun, this is for the people who thought Gnarls Barkley's album was a little too tame.

C&C's music factory comes across as a unique, modern perspective of both rock's past and present.

The album's bluesy Americana-inspired tunes like "Saving Grace" and "Turn This Car Around" are, sure, kind of predictable, but they make up for that by being pretty darn good songs.

The whole thing seems like a guided tour through the band's different incarnations.

The sophisticated retro-pop sound, dreamy melodies and soft electronic beats of Ivy do more to further international relations than any George W. Bush visit could ever hope to.

With loads of acoustic guitars and the Jayhawks' winsome country harmonies, this album looks back to the sound of Crosby, Stills & Nash.

So cool and so good that no one will even notice Meg White has been replaced by a mandolin.

Unless you are the president of the NRA or addicted to Cops-type tales, 50 Cent's debut is strictly small change.

Where the debut sometimes resembled a psycho-ward jam session, System serve up some surprising melodies on "Chop Suey!" "Forest" and the haunting "Aerials."

Along the way, it scores a lot of points, thanks to Nigel Godrich's earthy but twisted production.

On "Hands on You,"... Trice gets to show off his incredible lyrical flow alongside an unusually subdued Eminem.

Merely highlights all the weak spots, like the lifeless voice, generic MOR melodies and the highly noticeable lack of Jakob being Bob.

A packed 73-minute disc with breathy vocals, smooth R&B jams and seductive sentiments.

Futures goes back to the band's roots, sporting 11 sparkling gems that carefully balance balladry with bombast.

Just when the bombast teases with sounding like nails on a chalkboard, the band turns things around to remain more cool than annoying.

The production varies from understated to glossy, and Cash has enough presence to carry it all off.

A solid pop-rock album filled with brutally honest lyrics.

But for all their influences, the Anniversary retains its own personality, with a laid-back style and pizzazz that keeps this party a pleasant one.

Overall, a nice trip back to Plant's British folk rock and American blues roots.

Afrodisiac teases more than tantalizes.

Taken as a whole, Souljacker comes off so bleak it overwhelms the album's strengths, like its memorably catchy melodies and sonically brilliant tracks.

Mellencamp's crackling, gorgeous Heartland pop resonates more now than ever--even if, at times, he sounds like he's ripping off his best guitar moves.

It'll charm the chaps off both diehards and the folks who've discovered these backwoods sounds because of the O Brother, Where Art Thou? soundtrack.

Hummingbird does not disappoint fans who like their R&B buzzing with a side of multitempo hip-hop.

The frequently acoustic guitars and the frontman's mumbled ramblings on death, politics and love make this a fairly quiet, and deep, Riot.

Often funeral-march slow, but there are also flashes of passionate energy.

His lyrics remain slightly twisted, the music is uniformly dark and the singer's still a little freaky.

By mimicking the sound of every Hot Topic band crashing into one--with songs that pilfer from the Killers, My Chemical Romance and Fall Out Boy--we have to wonder if they haven't just orchestrated their own extinction.

Some Cities brims with confidence, as the band delivers a mix of Motown rhythms and windswept melodies with unblinking force.

For a bunch of jokesters, these guys deliver some seriously good music.

The best tracks--"Crystal" and "Turn My Way"--sound like they were recorded in 1987.

Perfect pop fun for short attention spans.

The album is so "been there, done that" that Twain often sounds like she's ripping herself off.

Critics called it lazy, self-indulgent and amateurish--as if its predecessors somehow resembled Dark Side of the Moon. The truth is, this sounds exactly like Skinner's last two Brit Award-winning and Mercury Prize-nominated discs.

More scattered than his past works, Wainwright's skills bubble to the surface here only after repeated listens.

It's an easy listen, enjoyable on the surface with deeper meanings you're willing to dig.

Not for the weak (or for Foo fans, really), this is some heavy hard-core stuff that's supernaturally superb.

At 23 songs... his second solo full length is as bloated as a rummy's liver. Still, it's good.

They're not exactly shaking up their own heavy-duty formula, but with the hell-and-handbasket thing going strong, what difference does it make to them?

Recalls other feisty femmes like Alanis Morissette and Cyndi Lauper, and it all comes out lookin' rosy.

Frontman James Walsh channels Jeff Buckley's soaring vocals so perfectly over those lovely acoustic guitars and pianos that you won't be surprised when you hear the band's named after a Tim Buckley album.

Of course, it sounds ragged as all hell, but that was half of his old band's charm.

Essential? Not really. Fun as hell? Definitely.

Confirming everything that is great about Tom Rowlands and Ed Simons, Come with Us is equal measures driving rhythms and euphoric, widescreen melodies.

Amazingly solid.

The First Lady should be the last album on anyone's shopping list.

Is she blazing new trails? Naw. But this sounds exactly right.

The Los Angeles band wants to be Radiohead so bad it hurts, but too bad--they're just too good at pop.

Sure, the lyrics are a bit weak at times, but when a band's having this much fun, you can't help but want to join in.

The Texas trio sounds like a new group.

With Musicology, the doctor of sexual funk puts the self-indulgence on hold and digs back into the enticing grooves and towering melodies of his glory years.

Some may call it repetitious, but with songs so beautifully crafted, everyone should agree that X&Y equals A.

Idlewild is a more down-tempo affair than its genre-splitting predecessor, but it wins points with stone-cold psychedelic soul classics such as "Mighty O," "Peaches" and "Hollywood Divorce."

Headed for a prom near you... it's the Goo Goo Dolls.

The music doesn't impress much, serving as more a backdrop for Morrissey's lovely chops.

Following 2002's experimental Phrenology, which featured all manner of drum 'n' bass and techno influences, the real-instrument-playing Philadelphia hip-hop collective ditches the frills on Tipping Point.

Neither as experimental as Yankee Hotel Foxtrot nor as accessible as McCaughey's various forays, nothing on the album really makes an impression other than a couple of throwaway lyrics and the abrupt shift between McCaughey's pinched vocal styling and Wilco singer Jeff Tweedy's coarse whisper.

Kid chills out here, embracing southern jams, country music and a whole lot of heart.

There's no denying the music is ridiculously fun, as it bounces from Strokes-style garage riffs and Nirvana-esque angst to epic Brit-pop melodies and pop twists.

She mysteriously trims away her individuality and morphs into a J.Lo imitator.

Some of it sounds similar, but Pink sticks to her guns on relationship tunes ("Last to Know"), decent dance-floor jams ("Trouble," "God Is a DJ") and tougher rockers ("Try Too Hard").

Musically, the album bounces from a full-on urban polka ("Oblivion") to tracks with plenty of Apollo Showtime-style organs, horns and disco and funk elements that keep the wacky tales from sounding wack.

Plodding jazz-rock tunes that are 30 years old at this point.

A quiet, meditative effort. [5 Mar 2004, p.68]

Radio stations will still probably ignore the old-school, stylish singles like "Proper Propaganda" and "Heavy Rotation" that make Expansion Team a winner.

Luckily, even with the changes, the Sheik mystique remains and makes this album a worthy new addition to his repertoire.

His pipes are in tip-top shape, sure, but hearing this stuff is sometimes more embarrassing than reading your little sister's diary.

Is a welcoming entrance for new fans as much as it is another fine chapter for the diehards.

Keys, however, proves to be a better singer than songwriter, as most of the latter half of the album slips into sleepy piano numbers.

High kicks above their breakout debut by being brighter ("Dirty Mouth), wilier ("Goodnight Goodnight") and all around more pogo-inducing.

The end result of all this sermonizing will likely inspire you not to renounce sin and its sordid ways, but feel the itch to grab some hooch and a few George Jones albums and have a rip-roaring time.

And while it might be difficult to swallow yet another dose of hip-hop-lite and poor-me acoustic pop songs from chick-magnet lead singer Mark McGrath and gang, these Southern California boys make the everyman breeziness work for them.

Think of it as more of a mix tape because the British quintet's jam-band explorations dip into everything from Beatles-esque pop and Delta-blues-influenced ballads.

Costello's most exciting album in ages.

Fun, but hardly fresh.

So what if the clean-ish production elicits screams of "Sellout!" from longtime fans? This is good stuff. Somewhere, Courtney Love is wishing she made this album.

You can't deny that these dudes are on to something great. Seriously.

If he approached these songs with the slightest hint of subtlety, he might get his point across, but he's happy just hammering everyone with his trailer-park politics.

features several career-defining turns by superstar producers such as the Neptunes ("In My Arms Tonight"), Babyface ("Hands Up"), Missy Elliott and Timbaland ("Dirty"), with all the group's playfulness and silky-smooth funk intact.

Cleverly mixes soft-focus hip-hop, trippy space rock and Ennio Morricone-style melodrama with Albarn's unwavering pop melodies.

More in line with his tighter debut, Pretty Hate Machine, With Teeth is made up of bursts of dark, scary and paranoid gut punches.

Sure, it takes some time to sink in, but once it gets a hold of your heart, it won't let go.

Sing-along melodies and breezy hooks are strewn throughout.

Who is Jill Scott? This is--in all her eloquent, inspirational, beautiful and melodic glory.

When he gets it right, the rich grooves and soulful voices can be sublime, like early '70s Curtis Mayfield or Sly and the Family Stone.

The Old 97's are a good band, but Drag It Up simply isn't them at their best.

It sounds like he wrote his lyrics by taking random words out of a thesaurus.

The rootsy folk and ethereal harmonies drift lazily, setting a lonesome, winsome mood, without being somber.

A few Sabbath-y moments aside, a majority of the disc finds frontman Daniel Johns singing more than screaming, much to the delight of those who may have worried these guys would give up on new things.

This is undoubtedly the best excuse for a solo outing since Justin Timberlake's Justified.

It works brilliantly.

The audio equivalent of a warm bubble bath.