The rest of the disc glides along on that same smooth, if lightweight style, with Tyrese serving as little more than a hot conduit for top-notch producers and writers like Babyface, Jermaine Dupree and Diane Warren. Luckily, Tyrese can sing.

Taylor sounds assuredly relaxed and content.

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.

Mostly made up of charming-but-harmless ballads and little bursts of fiddly Celtic pop.

There are more than enough moments when Sheryl really shines in that Sheryl way.

More diverse than you might think...

It's Pulp's contribution on the terrifically revealing "Sliding Through Life on Charm" that really raises a smile...and a little something else.

[This] downcast disc is actually an improvement on its predecessor.

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.

A leader of the old school teams up with an upstart from the new, and the classy result is the way-out antics of Handsome Boy Modeling School.

Pulling off the tricky balancing act of aiming for mainstream success while keeping one's street cred intact, songs like "Ghost of You" and "Predictable" abandon the band's mall-rat roots in exchange for more mature influences like U2 and Muse.

The lyrics aren't "How Soon Is Now?"-type genius, but they go down easily enough.

Touch shows her being assertive and in charge.

With Love and Squalor certainly won't change pop music as we know it, but it packs surprisingly huge melodies and shamelessly danceable beats.

If imitation is the biggest form of flattery, everyone involved in the Manchester scene circa 1988 will be smiling ear to ear when they hear Kasabian.

Thanks to soulful orchestral swells, the songs have lush contours, which soften the singer's macho stance.

Banks seems determined to launch a one-man revival with perfectly polished tracks like "Addicted" and "Hands Up."

Taking a cue from the success of his last major hit, "Again," Lenny, the sensitive, midtempo balladeer, cavorts all over this largely reflective, romantic effort.

Fortunately, Fiddy's rhymes are a riot, and Dr. Dre's production is as golden as ever.

The Jaxx prove they can make this old house music exciting and new.

The strangest sensation? It's actually all pretty good.

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

The change may shock fans, but Phantom Planet wears the shaggy tunes well.

While the lyrics range from the stale to the surreal, the band's vibe still gels where it counts.

Songs like "First Night" and "You Can Make Him Like You" conjure up a bit of Springsteen, a bit of Westerberg and far more catchiness than they should rightfully be allowed.

Songs like "World Wide Suicide" and "Severed Head" even come close to recreating the hard rock thrills of the band's billion-selling debut, Ten.

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?

Nothing here is as generous as the hooks found on the band's sole hit (you may remember "Natural One" from the Kids soundtrack), but there's plenty of mournful rock for the mopers in the world.

Is this another Dawson's Creek soundtrack, or what?

Amazing collaborations that emphasize the veteran band's rich Latin and blues roots.

While a handful of the songs sound derivative, it's hard to resist the tambourine-enhanced exuberance of standout cuts like "Penny on the Train Track" and "I Gotta Move."

Twista still manages to steal the limelight on hot booty-busters like "Slow Jamz" and "Pimp On."

The perfect guest at your next guilty-pleasure dance party.

When all is said and done, Everything to Everyone manages to be good for many.

The Canadian rocker looks like a (prettier) member of Sum 41, sounds like a slightly less-pissed Alanis Morissette and has the streetwise 'tude of Pink.

The lyrics seem clumsy, and some of the melodies feel warmed over, and the Carlos Santana-appearing "Illegal" is a total buzzkill. But it's not all a loss.

The Texas trio sounds like a new group.

The Detroit rapper brags about life after success--money, women, drinkin'--and uses his mediocre rhyming skills on anthemic, fist-pumping Rock staples like "Forever" and "Cocky."

This is smart, literate stuff painted on a rich canvas of pedal steel, ukulele, upright bass, strings and soft drums.

A euphoric mix of wild Latin rhythms, electronic surges, soothing acoustic sounds and just about every instrument imaginable.

It's not as hands-down great as the Swedes' last (Veni Vidi Vicious), and a handful of tracks are too-short bursts of energy that only leave you wanting more. But when the band gets rolling with tracks such as "Walk Idiot Walk," there's no stopping it.

Though it's an interesting idea and is at times stirring, the results don't always work as well as one would hope.

[A] low-key album.

A self-titled debut album steeped in beautiful but bland lovelorn ballads that tip a wool cap to vintage Elton John.

Sounds exactly like you would expect a Tool album to sound.

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.

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

Embracing lonesome gothic-folk traditions, slight blues and country, this stark release is all about misery, hardship and stuff you'd rather not think about.

Their movement toward non-nooky maturity continues here with tunes like the melodic and soaring "Wish You Were Here" and the dramatic "Warning"--each showing a more reflective and poetic side than before.

It's a welcome throwback in today's complicated rap game.

[A] balanced mix of streetwise, club-ready and bedroom-bumping cuts.

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

Leto sounds more like Tool/A Perfect Circle frontman Maynard James Keenan than a member of the Screen Actors Guild--even if his lyrics are kind of space-case lame.

Sounds like a funky offshoot of the Stone Roses, mining blissed-out acid grooves, hypnotic rhythms and the kind of distant, detached vocals that don't sound like vocals at all.

'N Sync reminds us why boy bands were put on this earth in the first place: to have a good time.

Los fans--as well as those who just love great, spicy rhythms--will quickly learn that they Canto live without this disc.

While some of the posturing about his bling--as well as the repetitive dirty South beats--might get a little tired, this one is guaranteed to keep it hot in herre all night.

Costa backs away from hip-hop beats and glossy pop melodies and instead digs into meatier classic-rock and soul influences like Sly Stone and Janis Joplin.

The slick production will scare off longtime fans quicker than a cross repels a vampire, but for the rest of us, it's an easy introduction to a crew of weird guys who deserve to be heard.

If you aren't down with Manson, this won't change you one bit. But for Manson fans, Grotesque is beautiful.

The band's naked ambition would be offputting if it didn't come wrapped in such resounding choruses.

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

Her lilting angelic voice and ethereal alternating waves of electronic and acoustic musical accompaniment make Nova's contemporary folk-pop tunes perfect for TV-styled teen angst and lessons in love.

The song, sentiment and anger remain the same.

Tunes such as "Escondite Ingles" work in any language, mixing mad Latin percussion with big rock riffs and Carribbean rhythms.

Moore's voice has grown stronger, she updates the covers with some youthful enthusiasm, and, well, these songs are hard to screw up.

Mya's third album should have no problem hanging with the chart-topping competition, seeing how it's stacked with hit after steamy hit.

Shatner oversees some surprisingly tuneful turns.

Two is his most highbrow effort yet.

Our adult Malkmus is less prone to toss off a half-finished rough gem and more likely to polish and polish until things are a little too shiny.

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

Palookaville will surprise you.

While he lags a bit in the emotional department, he nails the spirit with songs like "She's Lost Total Control" and "So Alive."

Armed with a summer anthem and all ("Lucy Doesn't Love You"), it shouldn't be long before Ivy's popularity grows.

Sure, the band is still peddling the same vaguely Americana M.O.R. sound that the Wallflowers and Counting Crows perfected in the mid-'90s, but for once it actually sounds interesting.

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.

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

Somewhere in here, there's a lovely, compact, cohesive little album. It just takes a little too much digging to find it.

The reactionary disc is a step up from 2003's similarly political offering, Greendale, largely because it doesn't come disguised as some community-theater production.

Krauss is blessed with one of the most coolly beautiful voices on record, and she's often better than her material, which is once again the case here.

Musically this is more varied and muscular than her debut ... vocally she rocks harder. And though she still ain't exactly perky, she does sound less sullen.

A mind-twisting collision of rock, techno and hip-hop.

He does it all so proficiently, you can't help but want to have the guy hang out in your CD player for awhile.

A less produced, totally honest and much more sparse collection than what fans were dancing to with Omnipop.

Even if it all sounds pretty much the same as their last few, you'd be unwise to turn a deaf ear to this release.

This isn't just a step in the right direction for the band, it's--believe it or not--a good move for the pop-punk genre as a whole.

Sessions is loose and fun and, while not blazing any trails, it doesn't sound like a bad karaoke night either.

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

There are some impossibly fun tunes in the mix.... But will this album really change your life? No.

The Woods seems like a retreat into the '90s, playing up the grunge and angst of the band's Northwestern stomping grounds.

Essential? Not really. Fun as hell? Definitely.

A few more tangible melodies would have gone down well, but the overall mood is magnificent.

There is an army of producers, songwriters and guests that make Thankful's mom-approved hip-hop beats and love songs feel as contrived as Clarkson's perfectly placed highlights.

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

It's hard to imagine a set of songs that better reflects every phase the group has navigated through its turbulent career.

Yeah, Issak's tunes are the equivalent of rock comfort food, but they always go down so easy.

Rages and riffs with epic drama.

Indestructible feels a lot less dangerous than their previous discs.