Aside from the thumping groove of "Nobody Knows Me" and a few other bouncy beats, much of the electro style Madonna experimented with on 2000's Music has been replaced with warmer sounds and earthy touches, like acoustic guitars and a choir that comes from nowhere on "Nothing Fails."

Although he has sensibly cut back on the droning that defined his last disc's stand-out single "Strange Condition," this release shows few other signs of growth.

Totally depressing and totally engaging.

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

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.

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

Rages and riffs with epic drama.

An hour-long dream-pop kiss that floats by on a bed of brushed drums, lilting Hawaiian guitars and whispered vocals.

Williams' captivating lyrics are gut-wrenchingly intimate.

Sure, the waifish white girl slips up plenty by trying too hard to be cool, but it feels like they're having a good time, as the duo scratch and shout their way through head-swaying slow songs, soul-funk Jamiroquai-ish joints, some pop quickies and an array of other styles.

It's a massive success.

It doesn't help that the best song here, "Feel," sounds like a bad Richard Ashcroft B-side; the worst is a seven-minute mariachi stomp about traveling to Las Vegas with a monkey, called "Me and My Monkey."

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

Through it all, the guys stay just as tight (translation: radio-ready) as ever, offering up tracks in near-perfect three-minute doses.

The four-piece has transformed into a genuine powerhouse, blowing away any so-called new rock revolution contenders with lovely melodies and effortless intensity.

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.

Ms. Dynamite's debut album is heady stuff, punctuated by groundbreaking beats, seductive vocals and melodies that lodge themselves firmly into your cranium.

At times, he's guilty of doing his best Lenny Kravitz impersonation.... But those moments pass relatively quickly, and he slips back into his stripped-down, socially conscious self--and that's when Harper truly shines.

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

Despite the fact that nobody bought their lackluster last two albums, Art Alexakis and his two lackeys are back with the even more banal and unnecessarily loud Slow Motion Daydream.

A well-crafted mix of hardcore bluster, determined melody and anthemic grandness that boasts depth and texture rarely heard from the Warped Tour ilk.

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.

Aside from some cool collaborations with Missy Elliott, Twista and Method Man, Kim spends most of the album lecturing her fans with less-than-stimulating lines.

His laid-back delivery and glitchy computer beats are only interesting for so long.

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.

Basically disco with a new-wave spin, it's nothing you haven't heard before--in 1983.

Human Conditions is as bloated and directionless as its awkward title suggests, weighted with meandering songs without melodies, lyrics straight out of freshman-year philosophy class and a sickly slick sheen.

A headache-inducing mess of rehashed classic rock riffs and stale grooves.