Buckcherry's overblown rock 'n' roll is exactly the kind of music that can be dressed up by production, almost (but not quite) giving the illusion that something exciting is happening when, in fact, its merely recycling the already recycled.

"She's On Fire," the opener from San Francisco-based Train's second release, promises a solid if not memorable rock 'n' roll effort. Unfortunately, penning this catchy and muscular rocker seems to have sapped the boys' creative well.

God Says No brings the New Jersey quintet into the millennium with the same sharp approach of their other four records--it's loud, it's brash.

Another batch of tunes that entwine gorgeous, intricate arrangements with the dark, intoxicating side of our libidos.

Hammond's vocal, minus Waits's affected (and annoying) growl, puts the emphasis where it belongs--on the songs. The effect is to make peculiar vistas like "Jockey Full Of Bourbon" and "Murder In The Red Barn" even more vivid and the tunes truly sound like artifacts from another era.

Though its methods reek of gimmickry, and are not as interesting as similar but more musical travelers like Plaid, Autechre, or Mouse On Mars, Matmos does construct a daring two-cans-and-a-string party album.

Finally, a near-perfect pop disc from Minneapolis's Semisonic. While the band has always hinted it had the right stuff to deliver a truly great record, Chemistry is the first of the band's three releases to make good on the promise.

Once again, Hefner has delivered what is sure to be one of the most original releases of the year.

The band’s most energetic record since 1993’s Get A Grip.

Like Dylan going electric, Frank Sinatra going disco, and Kojak going bald, this is a watershed work for Nick Currie...

A rich collection of tunes that definitely will put you in the mind of [Nick] Drake--but stop one (small) step short of sheer imitation.

When you get over Everyday's new look, you still have the best Dave Matthews Band record ever.

By far the best album from the New Orleans rapper.

Though the steaming electro missives of 604 can sound a bit uniform at times, Ladytron's buzzing bin of automaton female vocals and retro machine accompaniment intoxicates with illicit ease.

Mission Accomplished finds Tricky still musically intriguing, still lyrically fascinating; but the fix is too short, the message mostly unaccomplished.

Length considerations aside, only die-hard Beck devotees and studio nerds are likely to be dazzled by the dithering, technoed-out proceedings here.

Glossy, electronic, and at times quite infectious, the record extends Vitamin C's bubbly reign.

The music gets gorgeously bizarre, but there is always a sleepy dog and a piece of apple pie waiting at night's end.

By and large, the disc is made up of ambitious but misguided attempts to elevate mundane rock 'n' roll to some kind of higher art form.

Her taste in cover material is slightly idiosyncratic, but that does nothing but add luster to the program...

Her vocals are so mannered, self-conscious, and limited, there is no way to gloss over the facts, except when booming dance grooves rule the mix.

Using sparse arrangements, usually just a few programmed instruments and her feathery voice, Minekawa succeeds in creating lush songs rife with detail, melody, and mystery.

In making consistently mediocre music, the group appeals to the country fan with the lowest expectations out of life, one who never wants his moon-pie-and-RC-Cola values challenged, but likes his emotions jostled once in a while.

Unlike a lot of mix-and-match groups, the tracks are filled with grooves that are substantive as they are moving.

Exhibiting a lyrical prowess which has made him a fan and critical favorite over his relatively short career, Xzibit holds his own...

The production, lyrics, and hooks make this an impressive sophomore effort from Ms. Badu.

The Offspring are interested in distilled punk-by-numbers, and are hardly interested in--or perhaps incapable of--finding something new to say.

An artist this gifted uses his skills to make music, not cling to style. While the familiar 808s and 909s of techno are rife on Unreasonable Behaviour, the music covers breakbeat, jazz, techno, beat noir, and even hints at Brazilian rhythms.

A strong, solidly melodic rock album, gorgeously written, tastefully arranged, and impeccably played.

Bjork-obsessed fans hungry for more of the songwriter's customary eccentricities might be disappointed with the brief and thematic focus of the album.

The soundtrack was clearly as much a labor of love as the film...

PJ Harvey's frequent collaborator John Parish produces, and he brings a dark, melodramatic, and very theatrical sensibility to the songs that is much more interesting--and a much more flattering setting for Carol Van Dyk's expressive but limited vocals--than the straightforward guitar churn that dominated the last couple of albums.

Stronger than 1999's terminally delicate Out Of Tune, Excuses takes a bolder and more assertive approach to Halstead's tunes, giving him a sound akin to like-minded Aussie singer-songwriter Paul Kelly.

Gorgeous melancholy is what these folks do best, and on tunes such as "The Mirror Phase," "Judah And The Maccabees," and a lullaby-like cover of "Blue Moon" from Big Star III, they outdo themselves, producing produce their finest collection since More Sad Hits in 1997.

Essence is the album Roni Size's Breakbeat Era hoped to be, a song-based, drum 'n' bass epic that works on many levels.

But even with all the billowing moods and lush female vocals, what is paramount to The Mirror Conspiracy's muse is rhythm.

The disc lacks the coherent vision that would have made the best argument for Clef's claims.

What "Menace" lacks in continuity it more than makes up for with brass balls and a sense of adventure.

Disappeared hints at the cathartic spillage of drum 'n' bass, while also dropping beats from Motown, rock, and beyond. But unfortunately the melodies that were once so incisive and pliant soon grow monotonous and alien.

The vitality of these ditties is such that you'll be swept up in the excitement without much time or inclination for deep lyrical dissections, or fretting about Rancid's originality.

One of the most extraordinary indie sets since the Olivia Tremor Control's Dusk At Cubist Castle.

This may be the Steve Earle album for people who've never been Steve Earle fans before.

Instead of luminous horizons of color and virtual travel, Communicate is stalled in a monochrome world of dead beats, chintzy melodies and anticlimactic climaxes.

He's got the beat rate up and lots of faux funk happening.

Forget the brattiness and occasional lunacy that succeeded Tidal's ascent to hit status. This is the work of an adult artist, and onethat's going to be sticking around.

It's always great to find a new zone-out-leaving-the-planet disc, even better when it retains some edginess. This is probably the best modern psychedelia since Spiritualized let Ladies & Gentlemen We Are Floating In Space slip out.

"Implosion" is a bit of an overstatement. These guys go soft and introspective in the face of crisis and it never reaches the point of any actual combustion.

Felix Buxton and Simon Ratcliffe, like the Chemical Bros. before them, have the brains to upend house with music as disparate as Spanish flamenco, bebop, Motown funk, and Philly soul.

The Soft Bulletin is sparse and enchanted, like the band has awoken from a long dream spent spinning in outer space.

At the risk of once again alienating fans--as well as purists who may consider this treading on sacred ground--Moby has taken another set of disparate influences and "translated" them into a futuristic language that's all his own.

If there's a downside, it's that 13 may sound more like a sampler of ideas than a single-minded effort.

Few other contemporary electronic acts are quite so savvy in their subtle manipulation of traditional song elements within a cybernetic context.