Sure, your tweenage little sister will probably love this album, but I’m sorry, if she was even partially aware of hiphop and R&B music for the last decade or so, she’d know how much pilfered production and recycled rap is crafted here.

Songs you thought you knew are put through the spin cycle--each track deftly fastens together at least two of their best--so even if you're the level of devotee who owns 'Homework' in every format, you'll still be impressed by this heavy load.

Sadly, no RZA production appears on Ghost's seventh solo project -- thus this isn't as good as the invincible Supreme Clientele, but it's more cohesive than Fishscale.

Hearing 2003’s Frank the first time around, I can’t say I was knocked out by Amy Winehouse’s supper club jazz singing, and the album hasn’t improved with age.

The increased repetition of blurted nonsense phrases and the further dumbing down of their very basic progressions should serve to rid them of numerous long-time fans who hoped the Hives could save rock 'n' roll.

So, Danja hooked up Duran Duran with some seriously dope beats and nasty Neu-ish grooves for Red Carpet Massacre, way hipper stuff than they even know. The downside is that Simon LeBon is still singing and writing all the lame lyrics.

The album is also comfortably ignorant of the times. With its feathery production and common pop arrangements, it could have come out in 1996.

People who like him, rejoice. Those who don't may continue to live without his music.

Without any clever arrangements or production gimmicks to rely on, Keys tries to compensate for the obvious shortcomings by oversinging each syllable in a way that would make Patti LaBelle cringe.

There's enough decent material on Sawdust to exempt Brandon Flowers and his Vegas boys from cynical gap-filler accusations.

His intentions sound pure, but Shaggy's musical moonshine will leave all but the biggest fans with a heavy hangover.

Ya boy is back with another dark soul-saturated album in the vein of "The Blueprint."

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.

Some of the innuendo ('Take You Down') is kind of hurting but the song 'Nice,' gangsta-fied by a Game appearance, is solid.

Younger rap fans may be puzzled by Buck 65's throwback character sketches and references to Allen Ginsberg's Howl and Bettie Page, but those who yearn for a more literate approach will find lots to dig in Situation.

The production is glossy and futuristic to a nearly avant-garde point, yet every song is a hit.

The end result is a safe, predictable record that could very well be Metallica-lite (like the new Metallica), in addition to being pretty close to silly.

A deadly dull set of cliché-packed piano ballads probably isn't the best way for aging harmony synchers to prove to their shrinking tween audience that the old Boys (sans Kevin Richardson) have still got it.

Comeback of the year.

It's a record full of straight-up good songs from a band that should be (and would be, except for Doherty's fuckery) much more important than it is.

Although Young's compositions on Chrome Dreams II aren't quite up to the quality planned for the first volume, the 10 songs at least have some of the shape and gravity if not the epic dimension of his classics written decades ago.

The aggression is still there, now tempered with lighter numbers like Feathers, but the whole thing still reeks of comic nerd sci-fi awesomeness.

His ambition is never entirely realized, and though his voice is versatile, his almost operatic style at times borders on annoying.

Some songs start out peppy and intriguing, but his moaning over top sucks all the life out of the groove.

So even though Burnett has assembled a crack acoustic support unit to play the choice material he's selected from Gene Clark, Townes Van Zandt and the Everly Brothers, without that magical X factor you've got nothing but two good vocalists trying to stay out of each other's way.

If In the Vines isn't a record that impresses at the level of individual songs, neither is it something you throw on in the background and forget about.

The edge is still very much here. Prefuse can still drop it apocalyptic-style, as he proves on 'Prog Version Slowly Crushed.'