Subtítulo... is not without its charms, but it borders on easy listening at times.

Despite a few promising creative bursts ("Love," "Black Sweat"), it's another case of dashed expectations, as the disc dissolves into a bloodless puddle of smooth-jazz grooves and lyrics that wither at the hands of the singer's recent religious ideals.

Ultimately, it's hard to shake the feeling that something is missing.

In the end, Island makes Dave sound like he's just not enthusiastic about making music anymore.

The music is as fine as the pairing is strange.

[A] low-key album.

At the end of the day, it's really hard to screw up these songs with that voice--try as he might.

Ultimately he fails to make a lasting impression.

While tracks like "So Sick" and "Stay" hit a few sweet neosoul spots, this perfectly pleasant disc is lacking that roundhouse kick that floors you.

The end result of all this sermonizing will likely inspire you not to renounce sin and its sordid ways, but feel the itch to grab some hooch and a few George Jones albums and have a rip-roaring time.

There are some impossibly fun tunes in the mix.... But will this album really change your life? No.

His lyrics remain slightly twisted, the music is uniformly dark and the singer's still a little freaky.

An album that lacks severely in all areas, including production, direction and inspiration.

A frustratingly half-assed album, full of great ideas executed in the poorest way possible.

There's no denying the music is ridiculously fun, as it bounces from Strokes-style garage riffs and Nirvana-esque angst to epic Brit-pop melodies and pop twists.

It's a well-produced disc, but the cavalcade of stars and cartoonish beats make the songs sound more dated than the originals.

Feels like it was designed by committee.

Thanks to soulful orchestral swells, the songs have lush contours, which soften the singer's macho stance.

The Life Pursuit is all swaying tempos and vintage summer-sad melodies that sound like a postcard from home.

The music on Comfort of Strangers is at times so complex and distracting that it often overshadows Orton's winsome voice.

The disc is made up mostly by mid-tempo classic rockers and sweet nothing ballads. Disappointing? Well, yes.

Sure, the band is still peddling the same vaguely Americana M.O.R. sound that the Wallflowers and Counting Crows perfected in the mid-'90s, but for once it actually sounds interesting.

Though it's an interesting idea and is at times stirring, the results don't always work as well as one would hope.

It sounds all too familiar.

It's [Lewis'] powerful voice and compelling storytelling... that makes the songs of busted relationships and failed faith really sting.

Wonderfully soothing, late-night music that is simply beautiful.

With nothing to react against and few new ideas to air, P.O.D. mostly operates in default mode, relying on hitmaker-for-hire Glen Ballard to inject the music with new life. Sadly, he doesn't.

The band goes a different way now, and it's not necessarily a better one.