The album doesn’t sound phoned in, necessarily, but it absolutely sounds vacuous, vapid and clichéd.

She’s become her own worst nightmare – boring.

Mainly, it's good for some frivolous fun.

Not surprisingly, the resulting cameo-plugged record sounds more like a G-Unit album than an Infamous one.

This is a groovy record from start to finish, with no major standout fantastic song and nothing that sucks.

Sadly, Jane's Addiction lost the fire ages ago and are now sleepwalking through the ashes.

Aoki relies heavily on guests to pad out Wonderland, with mixed results.

The aggressive push into overblown choruses drowns the warmth and personality of his production work.

These 14 purpose-punk "anthems" (songs with loud multi-tracked vocals during the choruses) sound like Anti-Flag hastily thawed them out of mid-90s cryogenic stasis in a moment of frenzied conviction that we've never needed them more.

N Jo’s fan base doesn’t care about calculation. They’re just the right age to buy into the workmanlike quasi-genuine rock of Who I Am. And there’s still enough of that original Jonas flavour to keep them interested.

While the production displays a genuine level of talent, including excellent drummer Atom Willard, just about every song teases with potential before going absolutely nowhere.

Impressive, then, that this boy-army, one-girl team was able to pull off a contemporary R&B album so feminine, breezy and thankfully low on ballads.

Most of Shock Value confirms that Timbaland is most valuable when he's in the background.

That said, there are plenty of catchy moments. Beat-wise, Boots & Boys--a song about what brings her joy--is incredibly well constructed. If only the insipid lyrics were left off completely.

All six tracks are taut, catchy and depressing, 'Fire In The Ocean' in particular--making you wonder what could have been had they stayed together.

His subjects are the standard sex/money/hustler/romance/gangster fantasies, and all the new-millennium fast life references you expect.

Wiz has never shied away from top-40-baiting tunes many rappers eschew, and he’s crafted a few more on Blacc Hollywood with varying degrees of success.

Only real problem is that the foursome tend to write the same songs over and over again, this time thinly veiled in arena- and hair-metal swagger, but still too similar structurally to sound like they've challenged themselves.

For Mötley Crüe, every new record is a Faustian deal: their former glory as 80s hair-metal badasses in exchange for sustained economic success in a diminished, lame-ified state.

Sitek lends the band some nice slow-burning electronic atmosphere, but the songs lack hooks and sometimes shift into cringey faux-reggae.

Light, breezy and somewhat snoozy, Christopher has some pleasant moments, but it's not the strongest work in McPhun's discography.

Jesus Is King provides an undeniably moving and distinct new chapter in the book of Kanye. Whether you choose to skip it or place it high on your mantel, its cultural significance is only bound to grow.

He sticks so closely to the original arrangements that his shortcomings as a vocalist are painfully evident. Had he tried to reinterpret the classics even a little bit, we wouldn't be so quick to compare his singing to the originals.

In real snap-music fashion, everything's repeated to death over tinny, cellphone-tailored little synthesizer riffs with snares.

Like Snoop’s documentary of the same name, Reincarnated has its moments but needs an editor.

After 16 songs ranging from electro-country to the parody-heavy We're The Pet Shop Boys and various quasi-conversational raps à la the Streets' Mike Skinner about losing his virginity, I felt the man should rope things in.

The songs are ridiculously catchy, albeit predictable and overly comfortable in that 70s folk rock vibe he loves so much.

An album that’s bogged down by a rapper--and production--stuck in the middle of the last decade.