With all that studio experience and expertise, Garbage inevitably sounds slicker than a bobsled track. But it can become a little too slick: the flawless sound often only exposes and exacerbates their shortcomings as writers.

And the songs are catchy, yes. Just not so catchy that you're already singing along with them the first time you hear them.

He's arriving a bit late to the party, as his union of the electronic and organic is yesterday's news to anyone residing within a few miles of the cutting edge.

Taken only for what it is, Gorillaz is an engaging, if not entirely arresting, journey through sluggish mood rock and jazzy hip-hop. Taken for what it aspires to be, though, it's more disappointing than awe-inspiring...

Like Radiohead with Kid A, Air benefits greatly here from the extra slack given only to those somehow deemed "artists" rather than mere musicians. Coming from almost anyone else, this album would end up in the trash heap long before it had a chance to sink in.

Placebo's indie-glam rock fusion still sounds on CD like a good idea, and little more.

It's not a perfect album, and it's second half plays too openly with synth pop elements. The subtle beats and loops feel forced. But it has its moments of beauty, its songs worth listening to more than once.

Turin Brakes' music consists largely of the same kind of contemplative minor key laments that one might hope to hear from Elliott Smith...

But, while they might benefit at times from more distinctive guitar riffs, AAF's ability to dot the map without losing focus makes ANThology the kind of debut that gives cause to look ahead in anticipation of where they might take things for album number two.

Plays like a perfect meld of old school soul, modern day hip-hop and trance like hypnosis, with guest vocalists from all ends of the spectrum binding the event into a surprisingly cohesive whole.

A Rollins in the Wry stands on its own two feet not so much as a spoken word album chock full of hyphenated poems about how "No one knows me; I am the enigma," but more as punk rock comedy, or hit-and-miss Bill Hicks with tattoos.

PRG has obviously matured to a point that allows them to avoid formula and the pressures of writing another hit song. This is both for the better and for the worse as PRG deliver an album that at times is both graceful pop art and long-winded pontification.

For all its merits, though, Matriarch is enjoyable but not quite the transcendent experience its title would suggest.

Rockers and ballads are both delivered with pure '80s polish and shine. It doesn't make for as interesting a listen as the folk and funk of this year's Vol. 1, but that's not the point. If that was the thinking man's Everclear, this is the purely visceral edition. At the very least an exhilarating, fist-pumping ride, Vol. 2 is proof that a little energy can go a long way.

In spite of cosmetic differences, though, much of Vapor Transmission hints at a gaudy, synth-driven interpretation of Korn.

Cherry Poppin' Daddies pull off decent songs even when they aren't the most convincing of exercises in genre - and better than decent when they let the horns loose. Soul Caddy just can't live up to the swingin' good times of its predecessor.

Nowhere on Breach are the Wallflowers offensively bad like Matchbox 20, but the songs would be better described as lullabies than rockers.... It's pleasant stuff to keep in the background, but for all that pleasantness nothing stands out as especially beautiful or even memorable.

[I]f anything this album is less rock than the last one, while the droves of extra instruments are used more as decoration than as tools to create broad soundscapes.... Ultimately this album might be a step forward for Fastball, but they end up in essentially the same place.

An album that when all the preconceived notions and over baring expectations are stripped away, boils down to a good old fashioned soul record, filled with all the accoutrements that call to mind the glory days of 60's R&B.

Happy Ending is mostly generic, but far from your typically embarrassing thespian rock...

Pop Trash plays out with a quiet, digestible ease that stays firmly grounded in the comfort zone they have managed to create for themselves.

The problem is that he's just not that funny. For someone who takes such pleasure in spouting off on everything and everyone, from fans and critics to boy bands and label executives, Eminem really has nothing to say.