Recalls other feisty femmes like Alanis Morissette and Cyndi Lauper, and it all comes out lookin' rosy.

High kicks above their breakout debut by being brighter ("Dirty Mouth), wilier ("Goodnight Goodnight") and all around more pogo-inducing.

At 16 tracks, the melancholy mood lingers a bit long, but hey, if you can handle some meandering in your Britpop, then Here's something for you.

A lesson in subtlety, 10 songs of abstract musical impressions that foil today's connect-the-dots pop.

A balanced effort that mainly recalls his smooth soul-man Dru Hill days but doesn't forget the power of rump-shaking party jams.

features several career-defining turns by superstar producers such as the Neptunes ("In My Arms Tonight"), Babyface ("Hands Up"), Missy Elliott and Timbaland ("Dirty"), with all the group's playfulness and silky-smooth funk intact.

Throughout the disc, his attention to detail and melody stretch well beyond his 22 years.

Though not as immediate as some of her past mainstream work, Aaliyah's latest has the smoky temptress slowly working her way through R&B, hip-hop and even slightly techno beats...

Some tracks are as disconnected as a David Lynch film, but no one does misery like this neo-blues hollerer.

Sure, a couple of the hokey lyrics... slightly taint the return. But pulling tricks like sampling the Welcome Back, Kotter theme for the [title track's] intro is pure genius.

As studio swan songs go, this sounds pretty darn good.

Elliott keeps her sharp raps relatively slow-moving over the space-age production and allows room for the long list of guests like Ludacris, Busta Rhymes and Da Brat to shine.

The disc is bubbling with techno effects, a loose interpretation of Jamaican production and a (welcome) severe case of ADD.

Lateralus takes the L.A. band over the edge with elongated musical movements that simmer under heavy-duty distortion, Middle Eastern percussion and freakish guitar-and-drum time signatures that will make musical mathematicians (i.e., prog-rock dorks) as excited as the kids in the mosh pit.

Haunted Cities has more of a street-smarts vibe and is actually more listenable [than their debut].

Rich with melody and drama, even the band's experiments--like adapting King Crimson's "Moonchild" into the lush "M62 Song"--work.

Sounds uniquely fresh.

Doesn't disappoint.

It's the kind of album that finds its own cozy place somewhere between Lynyrd Skynyrd and Leonard Cohen.

Another collection of wise, witty tracks marked by her usual spunky vocal style and slashing slide-guitar work.

A much more spiritually fulfilling listening experience.

The most rewarding reworkings (Boards of Canada's "Broken Drum," Octet's "Girl") come from those who avoid novelty and realize that, underneath all the blips and glitches, Beck is just a soul man.

Nice and musically diverse.

At times, he's guilty of doing his best Lenny Kravitz impersonation.... But those moments pass relatively quickly, and he slips back into his stripped-down, socially conscious self--and that's when Harper truly shines.

Good luck trying to keep your head from spinning around like Linda Blair.

A good amount of Demolition screams quality.

An hour-long dream-pop kiss that floats by on a bed of brushed drums, lilting Hawaiian guitars and whispered vocals.

A weird ride, but a good one.

Fans of Travis and Coldplay will certainly find much to treasure in the soaring harmonies, soft strings and heartfelt sentiments.

By far the best showcase for Dave Matthews' seductive, haunting and deep warble.

When Ludacris promised his new album would cover all bases, he wasn't kidding.

Some Girls dishes out dirty, greasy rock 'n' roll that doesn't sacrifice mood for hooks.

More scattered than his past works, Wainwright's skills bubble to the surface here only after repeated listens.

Mellencamp's crackling, gorgeous Heartland pop resonates more now than ever--even if, at times, he sounds like he's ripping off his best guitar moves.

Combining the Verve's soul-searching themes with Radiohead's whisper-to-a-scream dynamics, Haven has come up with a weighty debut stocked with tender ballads, beautiful acoustic passages and several potential anthems.

DOLL may lack style, but it makes it up with substance.

If you're not already part of the Dashboard faithful, these tortured-by-love songs get to be a bit much.

A welcome return to the group's down-tempo beginnings.

Now You Know is full of the stuff BTS fans love: angular melodies, expansive nods to prog-rock and that droning, nasally voice that makes indie-rock geeks stand up and cheer.

The production varies from understated to glossy, and Cash has enough presence to carry it all off.

The Bed-Stuy boy musters up enough of his own charisma, charm and wit to build another solid release.

This ain't another Daydream Nation, but Nurse is a good cure for what ails the airwaves.

Some of it sounds similar, but Pink sticks to her guns on relationship tunes ("Last to Know"), decent dance-floor jams ("Trouble," "God Is a DJ") and tougher rockers ("Try Too Hard").

Conjures up an exotic, enchanting world populated with slide guitars, maracas, accordions, brass bands and late-night country crooning.

An urgent, soulful collection.

The odd combination of Coomes' rinky-dink keyboards and Weiss' booming beat is scrappy, stripped-down and still charmingly unlike anything else out there.

What the Kids lack in pep this time they make up for with honest, homey performances.

Whether he makes it all work via his musical skills or chameleonic acting ability, we don't know, but it does work.

On "Hands on You,"... Trice gets to show off his incredible lyrical flow alongside an unusually subdued Eminem.

Lovebox brings together [their] disparate elements in a convenient package, highlighting the knob-twiddlers' many talents.

Evanescence fans can rest easy knowing The Open Door handily re-creates the sonic storm of the debut.

A solid pop-rock album filled with brutally honest lyrics.

Is a welcoming entrance for new fans as much as it is another fine chapter for the diehards.

Of course, it sounds ragged as all hell, but that was half of his old band's charm.

This time out, the beats are more energetic, the tunes feature more vocals, and there's a slightly poppier feel that makes it harder to get lost in than some of their previous, more spaced-out efforts.

Even more of a musical jumble than her first album.

Anchored in the surreal goofball art rock, club beats and bubblegum punk that made anomaly hits like 1996's "Pepper" so cool, frontman Gibby Haines and gang sugarcoat their standardized tales of decay and hallucinogens but keep some delicious bitterness intact.

That's not to say that it's bad--it's just that the radio-friendly chanteuse's lightweight fusion of beats and folk songs is sleepy and barely discernable from one track to the next.

Even though the cast spends an inordinate amount of time treading over the subjects Fiddy already hit with his own Get Rich or Die Tryin'--dope, guns and themselves--tracks like "Poppin' Them Thangs" and "Groupie Love" have just the right mix of humor and heat to make them stand on their own.

When they crank out catchy ditties on harmony-heavy cuts like "Drifting Apart," AAF sound like a bunch of old pros--old pros who are still having a blast.

The songs don't always match the brouhaha surrounding their arrival, but there's no denying the exquisite craft on display.

The overall psychedelic mood works wonders for any self-respecting fan of the Beach Boys and David Bowie.

The group sounds genuinely reinvigorated.

A couple of indiscretions taint the disc, but hey, nobody's perfect.

Some of the livelier tunes don't suit her as well, and neither does overproduction. Luckily, Rosey's vocals shine through where it counts.

Simply the Flaming Lips doing what they do best, which is being beautifully weird and loving every minute of it.

As lyrically inflammatory as ever.

Casual fans of modern rock may drown here (and probably won't get it), but admirers of like-minded artists such as the Flaming Lips and Built to Spill will certainly get Rev-ved up.

It's still the group's own thumping concoctions--"Ready for Action" and "Blowout," for instance--that ring the loudest.

It gets somewhat spotty when naughty numbers like "Bootylicious" and "Nasty Girl" swing against a praise-the-lord melody, and "DC-3" is little more than a self-referential pat on the back to friendship and success.

Most of it strikes deeply and poignantly.

Okay, so it's not the most revolutionary concept album, but the raw energy and mad buzz make it one that's easy to get hooked on.

Taken seriously or not, Splinter holds together just fine.

While it's not as immediately user-friendly as the group's early jazz-rap infusions, this album still bubbles with head-nodding boombox pleasures.

The tough stuff works. But Temptation is really tempting when Rule drops all pretense of authenticity and lets the good vibes flow on the bouncy "Mesmerize," silky sex-jam "Murder Me" and the horn-infused title track.

Fang packs all the punk-rock wallop, menacing guitars and dirty, funky blues Spencer fans crave.

Thoroughly enjoyable.

Like a crisp Xerox of the band's multiplatinum Break the Cycle, with everything sounding bigger, brighter and tighter.

Backed by 22-year-old grandson Cedric Burnside on drums and longtime slide-guitar partner Kenny Brown, the trio locks into a groove almost instinctually on tracks like "Skinny Woman" and "Goin' Down South."

At 23 songs... his second solo full length is as bloated as a rummy's liver. Still, it's good.

The music doesn't impress much, serving as more a backdrop for Morrissey's lovely chops.

Her thin voice is no match for the thick guitars that dominate this metallic pop marathon, but there is a strange, earthy quality that makes songs like "Overpower Thee" and "Skin Receiver" compelling.

Each cameo adds style, pizzazz (and most importantly, cool vocals) to the four-man crew's turntable acrobatics.

The hip-hopper's gravelly vocal style benefits greatly from the many collaborations here.

There are a couple snoozy and wonky moments among the hits, but Longwave is definitely worth warming up to.

Reaffirms the Los Angeles-based band's strong pop sensibility.

So what if the clean-ish production elicits screams of "Sellout!" from longtime fans? This is good stuff. Somewhere, Courtney Love is wishing she made this album.

Sounding like a Pabst Blue Ribbon-slamming cross between John Cougar Mellencamp and Janis Joplin, Etheridge unleashes pool-hall rockers... as if every night is Friday night.

Like the Streets or Dizzee Rascal, Arulpragasam's beats are minimal, but tracks such as "Pull Up the People" make use of every ounce of groove as tight, crisp synth lines backing her catchy raga delivery.

The mellow moments define this album with "The Missing," "The Only Way (Is the Wrong Way)" and the contemplative "God Damn Me" being the main reasons to stick it out with these dudes.

His scattershot approach at taking on everyone and everything gets a wee tiresome after a while.

Set to a backdrop that brings to mind Creed, Pearl Jam and Tool but still uniquely stands on its own, the album tackles subjects of suicide and basic alienation with relative control and directness.

Become You serves up sparse coffeehouse acoustic arrangements with a side of gorgeously hoarse and shimmering vocal harmonies.

Pat Monahan and his boys have reverted back to their quasi-bohemian roots, meaning they sound like a better Counting Crows (with a dreamier frontman) and less-challenging Wallflowers.

While a bit of this debut sounds like Cornell doing his best over Rage-ified staccato riffs, these guys are at the top of their game when they reverse the formula and make way for Cornell's masterful wail and poetic imagery.

Somewhere in here there's a really good album just fighting to get out.

Having scored a minor hit with a track that appeared on the Kids soundtrack, the group now has a big-label deal and a hip new style--still recognizably moody and tentative, but with enough down-tempo beats and electronic knob-tweaking to drift into trip-hop territory.

Pretty much the same Beatles-esque pub-rock with Middle Eastern punches you'd expect--though with more shared singing and songwriting duties than past outings have had.