Like its predecessor, the equally undercooked "The New Danger," there is a sense that a deadline crawled up before the music was cemented. [13 Jan 2007]

In general, Federline enunciates well. [11 Nov 2006]

While he is certainly an innovative producer, that originality fails to translate on "In My Mind."

Too many tracks meander aimlessly without finding the perfect beat.

Nearly every cut shoots for maximum radio mileage, and the album's lack of stimulation makes such pandering harder to overlook. [20 May 2006]

[Ashcroft] possesses one of the definitive rock voices and has an undeniable gift for melody, but he pairs those talents here with truly insipid lyrics and uninspired MOR arrangements.

It is P.O.D.'s lyrics, which are stuck in adolescent neutral, that doom "Testify" to feeling like a relic. [28 Jan 2006]

But if t.A.T.u. represents the tippy-top of the marketing universe, it also represents the bottom third of pop songwriting.

Even the few noteworthy moments are lost in the banality of the music. [15 Oct 2005]

No, kids, it's not that scatological jokes aren't funny, just that these scatological jokes aren't funny.

The lyrics seem ripped from a teenager's journal, and his regular-guy vocals can't make them compelling.

It doesn't always make for an enjoyable listening experience, on or off the dancefloor.

Tends more toward the "dance" elements of IDM than the "intelligent," reducing UNKLE's trip-hop origins and innovative beats to overdrawn synth wank-fests.

If you dug the sweaty rowdiness of Mooney's last records, you'll find that the Matrix scrub-job has removed most of their traces of grit, grime and rock.

Hardly anything here makes an impression after repeated listens. What's worse, even fewer tracks possess the spark or invention for which Phish is revered.

The five Brits waste their major talents on midtempo songs like "Everyday" and "Four Letter Word."

His least demanding work ever, steeped in the traditions of pop and rock.

A baker's dozen's worth of featherlight ditties that range in quality from guilty pleasures to already-dated clunkers.

In a live setting, Oasis are too often just another band churning out big, bad anthems for the masses.... it remains troubling that a band with so much quality material buried as b-sides or minor album cuts needs to resort to pointless, set-padding covers of Neil Young's "Hey Hey, My My," and the Beatles' "Helter Skelter."

To be sure, Osborne proves again she has a wonderfully rich, sensual, and powerful voice that commands respect. But besides a winning cover of Bob Dylan's "To Make You Feel My Love," she chooses to showcase it among mostly flat and/or generic arrangements.

On "Machina," the Pumpkins don't sound creatively bankrupt as much as they sound burned out, uninspired, and not living up to their potential.