After years and years of hating every ounce of Maryland's mall-punk icons Good Charlotte, it seems now that the actual trick to enjoying their music on any plausible level is to go into the whole thing with absolutely no expectations. Not even low expectations. Nothing.

Repeatedly tries to regenerate the neo-soul-pop formula of I Try, down to its beat pauses and rich, piano-driven arrangements.

She succeeds on a level that was always just out of reach; the whole thing feels organic and natural.

The bigger problem, though, is Young Buck's yawn-inducing rhyme flow, which, paired with relentlessly slow, chugging beats, creates pure aural Sominex.

Devoid of filler and pop vocalist appearances, Red Gone Wild's a solid surprise for fans who thought the Funk Doc's career had gone up in smoke.

This sounds more like an album and less like a collection of singles and ideas, and the pop and funk elements are a bit more refined than before.

The album as a whole does drag on, and the songs aren't as immediately grabby as those on their last disc, but We Were Dead is more interesting and varied than Good News.

They sound like one brain playing machine-gun rhythms and echoing chords on a multitude of instruments, and their incredible fusion makes even the tunes with the simplest, most standard structures... exciting.

In his old glamcore days, Malin's affected voice might've been easier to overlook, but in this context, it can grow grating.

Why Bother sounds like it would be fun to see live in a dive bar, but at home it's a little grating to listen to from start to finish.

El-P's progressive beats here are full of driving, distorted drum sounds and rough samples; futuristic b-boy shit that walks a fine line between funky and grating.

Producer Ewan Pearson occasionally falters in connecting her vocals with the arrangements; there's a nice engagement on the slower, non-beat-driven tracks that you wish he'd mastered on the clubbier cuts.

With the fast-maturing Stone gaining greater control of her powerful pipes and a recent breakup adding to the underlying sexual tension while stoking the creative fire, the craftily reconstituted 70s R&B concept works exceptionally well.

The clever hook is keeping everything fuzzy enough to create a trippy mystique that makes it difficult to pinpoint what's happening or where it's all leading.

Back To Black is just a darkly rockin' good time, which will hopefully spark a new trend away from R&B's sickening slickification.

Parochial pop somewhere between Supergrass and the Arctic Monkeys.

There's something genuinely refreshing about smiley-faced singer/songwriter Rosie Thomas's straightforwardness.

Yours To Keep is kinda like an entire disc of that Lust For Life riff. Fun but a bit flat.

There are lots of references thrown into their oddball funk, but it's starting to sound completely logical and natural.

There are some pretty moments, and the production is immaculate, but it's plodding and dull for the most part.

The biggest glitch is the production - the myriad elements sound cramped for space.... Too bad, cuz Butler's lyrics, which replace coming-of-age angst with poetic explorations of global anxiety, politics and an excoriation of celebrity culture, put Funeral to shame.

Ultimately, Candylion is more annoying than entertaining.

It comes off sounding like a transitional recording, but with Son Volt any change is welcome.

Though the songs here are so much crisper and more exciting, they don't sacrifice the easygoing looseness of Apostle's Folkloric Feel debut.

The Weirdness does have many of the recognizable sonic and structural traits, but the essential threat of impending doom is missing.

Whether anyone outside of the NPR listening audience actually gives a shit about what clever socio-political points Cooder is trying to make metaphorically is difficult to say.

Woomble... shows an innate inability to keep pace, vocally and emotionally, with the thrusting guitars, driving drums and push toward intensity the band bids for.

A pretty lightweight disc.