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

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

Taken seriously or not, Splinter holds together just fine.

The album bubbles with climatic ambiance and sophisticated grooves.

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.

If he keeps going like this, it's a good bet that his best days are behind him.

There's something high-concept going on here, if you listen closely enough. Sad thing is, you probably won't want to. There's something high-concept going on here, if you listen closely enough. Sad thing is, you probably won't want to.

Chester Bennington's anguished man-child howling is largely left on the shelf, as are the thrusting hooks that were Linkin Park's big draw.

Therapy's diagnosis ultimately is not positive, because the disc's split-personality disorder results in too much incoherence.

The whole affair is overly polished, strangely detached and contains a thoroughly unnecessary cover of Don Henley's "Dirty Laundry."

These five regular San Francisco joes know a thing or two about the kind of midtempo, acoustic-based rock that makes for a smooth, radio-ready ride.

Ed Kowalczyk and crew burden their sound with angry guitars, pseudoraps and needless swearing torn straight outta the Fred Durst book of lyric writing.

It's a well-produced disc, but the cavalcade of stars and cartoonish beats make the songs sound more dated than the originals.

The actual music merely offers more of the same oddly faceless brand of heavy rock the group has been cranking out since its 2002 debut.

Oddly enough, he not only makes it work, he makes it a whopping success.

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."

A semi-charming collection of catchy hooks, decent pop rock and just enough shades of darkness to keep you interested.

Short on the kind of sweet 'n' simple coffeehouse ditties that made the Alaskan-born folksinger a fan favorite.

His rhymes don't say much new, and the repetitive bounce of Powerballin' rattles your head after a while.

Unfortunately, she has also followed Ms. Knowles' lead in recording overly earnest, confessional ballads.

A funky, soulful flashback to the works of outspoken jazz and R&B greats like Gil-Scott Heron and Miles Davis.

The hip-hopper's gravelly vocal style benefits greatly from the many collaborations here.

She throws so much sparkle, shine and, yes, glitter at us that even tracks about her friend's suicide and her recent breakup are as glossy as her latest publicity shot.

The result is a bumpy, self-indulgent ride, sure, but Love's fuming testimony is packed with a scraggily voice screaming to be heard and a bombastic blast of rage, raw power and sarcasm.

The band goes a different way now, and it's not necessarily a better one.

While the band's wounded vulnerability and breathy melodrama will probably imitate enough to sell well, this is predictable second-rate stuff.

The Nashville hottie shakes off some of her past cobwebs for slicker, bawdier rock and a collection of power ballads--most destined for a high school prom slow dance near you.

For the most part, the vitality is gone.