It's as if, having played the crowd-pleasing rock card, Springsteen feels the need to validate himself as a "serious" artist, but has mistaken a certain affected intimacy of approach for thoughtfulness and dramatic substance.

The Boys are still presenting themselves as an emotionally sensitive duo, but the smoothness pulls the urgency out of some of their problems.

+44's first effort is an enjoyable diversion, but it's not apt to stop anyone's heart.

An over-baked confection that falls well below its primary chef’s abilities.

There's definite promise here, if not the stunning masterpiece of popcraft that a sudden deluge of impressive notices might indicate.

Other than a few impressive moments... Push the Button proves less than inspiring.

Odditorium contains the best and worst aspects of the Dandy Warhols.

Akron/Family has definite talent, but less forced naturalness, tighter song structures and greater emphasis on appealing harmonies could only help the group in its quest to conquer the known musical universe, or, at the very least, the corner organic foods mart.

What sounded fresh and spontaneous a decade back now seems labored and wearying.

There's no denying the disc's unbridled energy, and those who pine for a return to the booze-fueled days of '70s rock must find immense pleasure in Get Born's finer moments.

The diverse influences are still percolating, and any sense of cohesive absorption of earlier rock outfits' methods and styles never quite congeal into original expression.

Bottom line: Some great beats propping up a not-so-tight band, making it sound much cooler than it actually is.

Sexsmith isn't pushing the musical envelope as intensely as he has on past efforts, and while his songwriting is as delicate and graceful as ever, there's simply nothing here that he hasn't done better or with more flair elsewhere.

It convincingly exhibits the breadth of affection Costello has for homegrown American musical forms, but lacks a tight-enough center to stand among his sturdier, more disciplined works.

For the most part, the album's money shots -- the singsong guitar of "The Hardest Part," the eerie U2 evocations in the assured chorus of "White Shadows" -- are fleeting, strung together by unremarkable verses and remarkably generic lyrical sentiments.

Hardly an essential addition to the Mogwai catalogue (diehards excluded, of course).

An immaculately crafted, every-note-in-place recording that is as confidently executed as it is formulaically inoffensive.

Keys plays it far too safe here: There's nothing that will offend, and the content is patently generic enough that almost anyone, lovelorn or heartbroken, can build a personal soundtrack of romantic woe from its raw materials.

Over-produced and (regrettably) heavily dependent on synth-powered '80s grooves.

Is Antics superior to Interpol's highly regarded debut, Turn On The Bright Lights? Well, yes, providing your criteria involve a tighter, less fussy sound and gimmick-free production.

What the band lacks in originality (not to mention coherence and subtlety), it more than makes up for with committed chops and indefatigable energy.

Unfortunately, when Clearlake misses the mark, it does so widely.

Long before it's time to part, Till Death sags under a heavy sense of déjà vu that hinders even its interesting moments.

"One In Seven" is the best song on the London-based four-piece Engineers' self-titled long player.... The problem: "One In Seven" is the last song on the album. The ten tracks preceding it simply don’t measure up.

There’s little doubt that Chaos Theory does what it's meant to do: provide solid background noise to special-ops, night vision-wearing virtual stealth warriors. Compared to the rest of Tobin’s catalog, however, it’s merely a mildly engaging diversionary maneuver.

Too much reflection equals not enough action, and Gahan's halting lyrics beg for an urgency and immediacy that Monsters doesn't deliver.

Fleshing out Monade only reinforces what great chemistry Stereolab possesses. And that’s a few steps in the wrong artistic direction, especially if Sadier’s interested in distinguishing herself apart from the Groop.

Victory For The Comic Muse seems destined to be one of those odd works beloved by cultish fans of Hannon’s work, but an unfocused misfire from the casual listener’s standpoint.