For Black Bubblegum Copeland turned his ear toward electronic pop music, but in a typically oblong way.

Sean and Aiko make for a convincing couple. But what makes Twenty88 such a compelling listen is the startling honesty and rawness it captures--even if it's just fantasy.

Hutz has said that Rubin encouraged him to focus on his songwriting as opposed to the band's frantic live show, and "Hustle" bears out that claim with catchier melodies and more slogan-ready lyrics.

Parton's irrepressible personality is the star attraction, and on Better Day it shines.

It's an urgent, soulfully steely album of hip-hop unconcerned with the genre's current twists into pop structures and woozy electronics.

This is hushed, deliberately paced acoustic music perfect for sitting around a fireplace pondering the coming thaw....As pretty as this stuff is, though, it can get a little snoozy.

DeVotchKa creates music that explodes with the desperate passion of someone standing at the end of a pier, or lost in the middle of a desert.

God Willin' & the Creek Don't Rise has a natural feel, comfortably ranging from bar-band rave-ups to contemplative acoustic numbers, with master pedal steel player Greg Leisz leading several tracks into the expertly unfussy territory of blue-chip Nashville country rock.

Beyond the elemental pleasures of imaginative, passionately delivered rock and folk, "Day" offers a set of songs with a consistent viewpoint and emotional reach. [25 Jul 2006]

Freeway's penchant for ham-handed hooks and emotionally flat attempts at introspection ('I Cry') and romance ('Take It to the Top') reveal, over the course of these 14 songs, an ultimate two-dimensionality.

Some songs still leave you wishing to hear what George Jones or John Anderson might have done with them, but a quarter-century down the line, Travis finally seems comfortable inhabiting his human skin.

Catchy and immensely singable, the endless vocal refrains on The Excitement of Maybe aren't going to leave your brain anytime soon.

Bennett fares better in gorgeous duets with k.d. lang and Aretha Franklin, and his romp with Willie Nelson is precisely as charming as you'd expect. But for an old pro like Bennett, there's a name for that kind of stuff: child's play.

The indie folk darling's brand of Latin- and electronic-tinged pop yields a broad range of musical and sonic textures here.

The music, sculpted by players including blues guitarist Doyle Bramhall and L.A. roots rocker Jonathan Wilson, keeps finding life in fresh sounds.

The Molochs are on their own trip, one that spins old ideas with new energy.

It seems ridiculous to describe the new Eels work as "a headphone record," because, in the era of earbuds, most are. Yet here we are, lost in the intricate melodies, arrangements and textures swirling through The Deconstruction.

If that makes it sound like Adams and company aren’t pushing musical boundaries this time, it’s true, but they’ve settled into a groove that works just fine for now.

A pronounced feeling of descent pervades Turn Blue.

This is still Edwards' show, though, with appealingly plain-spoken story-songs that share little (in a lyrical sense) with Vernon's willfully opaque word-music.

Those [Americans] who do get through the London accent and argot will appreciate pungent, witty confessions. [23 Apr 2006]

The experiment of the Fields' ninth record sometimes rewards, but too often struggles for urgency and warmth.

The album's peppier tracks are front-loaded early, and even if the duo are capable '70s sylvan prog revivalists, the back end of Congratulations feels directionless.

Martin rarely transcends the narrow parameters of commercial Latin music, but the sincerity of his vision places him one step ahead of the competition.

The result is a rarity in the Chocolate Drops' world: roots music as useful as it is beautiful.

Clocking in at just under 40 minutes, the album finds a pair of consistently evocative artists in full control of their powers.

No Line on the Horizon partakes of that romance by trying to expose its inner workings. It's risky to expose those delineations; as the band said long ago, it's like trying to throw your arms around the world. But the effort has its payoffs.

Only a great artist could make an album that's at once so stirring and so slight.

A mixed bag of carols, contemporary pop songs (their take on Mel Torme's "The Christmas Song" is a quirky trip) and five originals.

Jeezy's sonic sins would be partially pardonable were The Recession to flash any hint of fun or humor. Instead, the street-cred-consumed caricature is more content to rip off Tupac Shakur ("Hustlaz Ambition") and write abominable hooks.

The result is a free-form, almost stream-of-consciousness ride through a surreal, atmospheric and sometimes funny alternate universe.

It seldom gathers enough momentum, and doesn't feel the least bit cohesive.

No one intones like the stentorian Warhol muse -- and then she breaks into vibrato-driven song, throbbing and strong.

Sure, she flirts with dance pop and R&B balladry, but you can forgive her for wanting to satisfy different tastes. Here, it actually works.

The songs aren’t hackwork--they’re catchy and funny and sexy and daring.

The cussing, the horror, the anger, the disappointment, the alienation, the frustration, while real and scary and sad, gets tiresome. That's a lot of Tyler, and so much ego-maniacal nihilism, while fascinating and at times revolutionary, wears thin very quickly.

Recorded in the band's own solar-powered studio in Sacramento over a period of some two years, each song on Showroom of Compassion sounds nurtured into its ideal state.

This CD is easy to enjoy because it's a triumph of production and persona over performance. [23 Jan 2005]

Occasionally the music wells up into something noisier and more rhythmically intense; “Bird in a Gale,” with Waters’ image of a loon howling at the sea, openly echoes the trippy deep-space psychedelia of “The Dark Side of the Moon.”

In his quest to impress, Big Boi short-changes the street-level swagger that always kept his partner Andre 3000 here on Earth.

The Solution, the follow-up to 2005's acclaimed "The B. Coming," feels unnecessarily bifurcated, with most of its first half devoted to grandiose tough-talk and limp club bangers devoted to passing the Patron.

The 11 tracks of "Women and Country" are similarly dressed [as the Robert Plant-Alison Krauss collaboration "Raising Sand"] with low-key Americana atmospherics. The results, however, are mixed.

After a few songs, the formula wears thin -- it's just too plain-spoken and familiar. [10 Jul 2005]

An odds 'n' sods affair consisting of a tour-only EP release, some extant singles and remixes, Everybody Get Close still maintains the cohesion of a studio album.

I'm Having Fun Now distinguishes itself from Lewis and Rice's solo efforts, or hers with band-on-hiatus Rilo Kiley, by going for a very specific tone.

Clapton and Bramhall also have pulled off a minor miracle in assembling an ad hoc group that manages to sound like a blues band whose members have been absorbing one another's abilities to the point of musical osmosis.

The result is infinitely more memorable than "Are You Thinking," though it's no less mannered.

Subtle touches of jazz, blues, rock and country add to the dreamy, soulful elegance and make Jukebox feel like a private love letter to treasured tunes.

Featuring synthy dance beats, electronic flourish and propellant energy, the record sits alongside similarly infectious endeavors from his impressive discography such as “Odelay,” “Midnight Vultures” and “The Information.”

Ultimately, "Fornever," might not be their most indelible achievement, but with cookout season approaching, 9th Wonder and Murs have created a worthy soundtrack for the Southern California spring.

All of You puts a significant amount of force into the illusion of effortlessness; its scrim of summer-fun abandon obscures a stage busy with high-level record-making.

Brody Dalle's first solo album begins with a bang.

Nesmith brings grown-up emotion to his recordings of Mel Tormé and Robert Wells’ “The Christmas Song” and Claude & Ruth Thornhill’s rarely recorded “Snowfall.” But the big calling card may well be two vocals that Davy Jones recorded in 1991 and that are newly outfitted in fresh instrumental accompaniment pulled together by album producer Adam Schlesinger.

The result, at least for the first half, is almost comically exciting, one fist-pump adrenaline rush after another.... Alas, Stump and his bandmates run out of steam by the end of American Beauty/American Psycho.

That Benson probably already has a dozen as-good new arrows in the quiver is the curse of the prodigious. But with songs like these, as coy and shiny as new pennies, Benson's private hunt for airtight guitar pop is worth relishing.

Yet for all the sleek settings and the vocal firepower Ledisi deploys, Turn Me Loose doesn't really present an artistic persona any more memorable than the earnest traditionalist from "Lost & Found."

Can a pop album succeed without functioning as a referendum on fame or as a work of musicology? Is it enough just to deliver a bunch of loosely connected bangers and bops? At its best, “Radical Optimism” answers yes — or at least makes you want the answer to be yes. Lipa has style and attitude to spare; her singing is sly, throaty, slightly Bond-girl conspiratorial.

"Idlewild" leaves the ears longing for something. Coherence, basically. There's no sustaining mood, no clear message, only Benjamin and Patton's efforts to outdo whatever they came up with last.

Though it might sound like a cold place, Eno's primordial milk sea is often choppy and warm, the kind of rough and imperfect environment where ideas ignite.

Kimbra's American fame may have come on the heels of someone else's single, but there's a vision here that's entirely her own.

For almost 10 years, Yorke has carved a determined, idiosyncratic path as electronic singer-songwriter. It’s just a bit disappointing that that path seems short on new directions.

Even though there are moments in this outing heavy on tried-and-true folk trappings--lots of mandolin, banjo, acoustic guitar--in which Earle sounds more as if he's echoing his role models than joining them as an equal, for the most part he succeeds in moving the dialogue forward.

She clearly wanted to craft a grand-scale melodic-pop opus, but she hasn't delivered stories and emotions commensurate with the panoramic production work.

A little heavy on the lugubrious ballads, but it's all Morrissey all the time. [16 May 2004, p.E40]

Even in his rare clunky moments, Eminem burns with purpose on MMLP2.

For all its familiar emotion, though, The Thrill of It All demonstrates Smith’s impressive growth as a vocalist and a songwriter. His singing has gotten deeper and richer.

Content? Sure. Complacent? Not yet.

Whatever name Dulli is working under, his creative project stays the same: providing an opposition to indie rock's sensitive-male majority.

The Roots have always been more about the music than the lyrics, but "Tipping Point" excels at neither. [11 Jul 2004]

For someone so skilled at using social media to cultivate fans’ interest in her personal life, it’s striking — and more than a little moving — to hear her dreaming of seclusion. ... Though Grande’s subject matter shifts after “Shut Up,” the song’s Disney-like strings carry through the rest of “Positions,” which is brighter and sprightlier than the comparatively bleary “Thank U, Next.” ... Prudes can take comfort in the fact that Grande’s sexual liberation hasn’t come at the expense of her winningly earnest theater-kid eccentricities.

Basic Instinct offers enough android booty bass action to satisfy those who like their rhythms complicated but repetitive and hooks foreseeable from a mile away, but pleasant enough when they arrive.

Higher as an album is decent enough, but it's hardly essential.

There's a raw energy on Little Honey--which arrives this week, a little more than a year after 2007's "West"--that's as refreshing as it is palpable.

At times, Port of Morrow greatly benefits from the filmy pop-electronica details that Kurstin drapes over the productions....On a few other songs, the weak melodies can't bear out the flourishes and they meander exhaustively.

Songz's speedy delivery splits the difference between rapping and crooning; like Rihanna, he lacks an especially charismatic voice but often uses that trait to his favor.

“Exodus” has a distinctly grown-up quality, with thoughts of nostalgia and fatherhood. ... DMX sounds remarkably driven on “Exodus” — a man with life, not death, heavy on his mind.

There aren't too many new stones in the pop garden that Cut Copy overturns, but what it roots out is expertly arranged, creating pastiches that raise ghosts from the past while capturing a spirit that's utterly now.

The song ["A Town Called Jubilee"] plods along, one of a number that could have been trimmed to make an excellent record start to finish. But the successes are many, and highlight an artist who seems devoted to caring for his muse and its many unexplored corners.

More often than not, though, Nas offers windy whines instead of innovative ideas.

These are grand-scaled electro-rock anthems that recall the fist-pumping likes of Arcade Fire and Bruce Springsteen even as they confess to an introvert’s anxieties.

The bass lines bounce, the strings swirl and Jake Shears wields a killer falsetto.... But Shears has a dark side.

The album feels like a predictable progression, too logical an evolution.

There are 1,000 ideas in 15 songs, and all of them are appealing. But most get short shrift in this manic adventure that bogs down too many songs with exhaustive tonal changes and an overreliance on Barnes’ layered falsetto vocals.

Even at its busiest, though, the music emphasizes Aguilera’s powerful voice, which more than anything is what separates her from the younger stars whose popularity has eclipsed hers in recent years. She runs through the full gamut of moods, from flirty to depressed to joyful to furious--each a response, or so we’ve been trained to think, to some real-life situation.

Mercer's knack for twisting and turning melodies is impeccably served by Burton, who tempers and fulfills those melodies with laid-back but elaborate scores of synth, piano, organ and sometimes a full string section, the only instruments not played by Burton or Mercer.

You can tell Ness is still getting comfortable revealing that side of his artistic persona; most of the song's words are self-help boilerplate meant to keep you on the surface of his thoughts. But the music provides a way in.

Vaudeville, show-tune theatrics, lonely dance-floor pop and even a smidge of cartoon country give It's Not Me, It's You its clever foundation that references pop culture with the same insatiability as Allen's lyrics.

Who Was Changed and Who Was Dead is hyper-aware, expertly tweaking the lyricist's game at every turn, but it occasionally sacrifices authentic exploration.

Cole's not an especially charismatic MC, but he has a welcome self-awareness and good taste in backdrops.

Like any other subgenre, it has its good and its bad, its watered-down faux bubbly and its liquid gold. And the Bird and the Bee’s second album, Ray Guns Are Not Just the Future, is on the liquid gold side.

An evolution in big beat and sweet dance-pop loyalty as hard-hitting as their mid-'90s works "Exit Planet Dust" or "Dig Your Own Hole." [23 Jan 2005]

The foundation of the band's boutique pop isn't its cultural fluency but its daring to be substantially bizarre, which is often realized on New York City.

In a genre all about timbre, there's no production duo that sounds as good. This system works just as well out of the club and in the concert hall with the Tron: Legacy score.

A fascinating look at planet Eno. [10 Jul 2005]

On his band's new album, Codes and Keys, Gibbard's picked up a bit of L.A.'s sun-scarred optimism and a droll domestic satisfaction that's alternately smug and insightful.

This bluesy, heartland-soaked musical excursion features meaty support from guitarist Doug Lancio, bassist Patrick O' Hearn and drummer Kenneth Blevins, wittily informed nods to such influences as Chuck Berry, the Rolling Stones and Willie Dixon and plenty of the rock soulfulness that's integral to the sound he's been honing for decades.

Thirty-four years after the band's debut, Heart's dreamboat sails on.

Are these new tunes likely to move arena audiences in the same way? Nah. But Diamond sings as though they will. He's still a believer.