Ultimately this is a missed opportunity to either unearth obscure, under the radar gems from this era or push Krall outside her comfort zone with challenging interpretations that reveal new meanings in songs we already know by heart.

There are no crescendos, no peaks or valleys. It's a straight line all the way through, which, as we all know from watching medical dramas on TV, can only mean one thing--the lack of a pulse.

Despite two new numbers near the end of this album, New Blood feels, despite it's occasional avant-garde touches, like another holding pattern from an artist who has not been particularly prolific since his 80s commercial heyday.

Noah and the Whale are a fine band, but they seem to have lost their direction.

If this underwritten, over produced debut for Capitol (after being affiliated with Columbia since 1973) is the best he can muster up in six years, it’s sad to say, it’s time to consider retirement.

These indie rockers chug along with sufficient energy but few have memorable melodies or hooks. Tucker’s words, while well meaning, are often simplistic and preachy.

Like his recently unpredictable behavior, it departs from what we’ve come to expect of him: gut-born artistry which connects on a human level. With this LP, he comes off concerned with fitting into an ideological mold, leaving no room for honest feelings and guided prose.

North seems destined to forever relegate Matchbox Twenty into the next generation of unremarkable dad rock.

On Indie Cindy, there’s not a lot of danger, or passion--or excitement for that matter.

Taken individually, the songs resonate better. But lumped together the effect is claustrophobic and cheerless.

The end product is an incoherent jumble of occasionally pleasant soft folk with mind-numbingly aimless pieces that seem arbitrarily constructed with little direction or focus.

The problem is that the band seems to want to go mainstream as it stood in 1995. As a result, they've lost a lot of what made them unique.

Rather than sticking to his bread and butter, Busta had his sights set on bold instrumental choices that he didn’t mesh well with, trendy samples that came across as tacky, and far too few awe-inspiring or substantive performances. And because of that, Blockbusta fell short of what it claimed to be.

Another Country has far too many moments that will have them lurching for the track-forward button while admitting this once talented songwriter needs someone to tell him when his reach exceeds his grasp.

Bridges' rough baritone talk/sung voice just doesn't connect with songs and production that seem lazy, if somewhat less self-indulgent than other successful actors who try to make their mark as singers.

It's all pleasant and inoffensive but with production that sounds phoned in based on market research, little is memorable.

This is a tough listen and not in a good way. Most of the songs are little more than unfinished sketches, most just over a minute long, waiting for more inspiration to be completed.

As 25 Years proceeds, the music grows fussier and increasingly self-impressed in its jazz and world music flourishes, yet even as Sting's voice grows slightly deeper and more textured over the years, he never really evolves or develops as a solo artist.