An advance in both writing and sound from its promising 2004 debut. [4 Jun 2006]

Little Joy's charmingly lazy songwriting makes no gesture at becoming anything beyond an excellent dinner-party soundtrack. But in these trying times for art and political life, such warm-hearted mood music will at least make your headaches go away.

Michele is more wry than most feel-good sisters, and never sentimental. She doesn't offer any solutions to the predicament of women caught up in sweet, rough love; like those blues queens of yore, she just takes you there. The journey is gift enough.

Part sex fiend, part revolutionary and part party-starter, David Banner certifies himself a rap powerhouse with "Certified." [20 Sep 2005]

This is an R&B record, and a solid one.

“Ice Cream,” the song with Gomez, is the most gratifyingly stylish track here. ... [The Album] plays like a transmission from a previous era. “Crazy Over You,” with its airy wind-instrument sample, rewinds even further to the hip-hop exotica of Timbaland’s late-’90s heyday. ... There’s something vaguely oppressive about “The Album.”

The Civil Wars is darker and more expansive than the group's sometimes-snoozy debut, with more varied tempos and instrumental contributions by Nashville pros.

The singer has no trouble making herself at home in these cuts, but the flimsy material can't quite conceal her hit-hungry desperation. Braxton fares better in the album's slower, more sensual songs.

What follows is a weird tangle of backward orchestral samples, bleeps and big-beat drumming. If the record seems messy, in fact it’s the opposite. There’s intention in every measure.

At 60 minutes, however, the album runs at least three songs too long, spoiling the tension and spirit with material that is plain gushy and, still, lame.

Best of all, Angles captures that now-all-too-rare excitement of musicians playing off of one another.

The more relaxed tone of Uncaged, the southern rock outfit's third studio outing, [is] modestly refreshing.

Sometimes Nite Jewel's music feels so controlled, you can't help but wonder what would happen if she'd lose her head for not just one second, but one minute or more.

Listeners who are not acquainted with the idiosyncratic vocal stylings of Wolf's Britpop predecessors (think of Bryan Ferry, Dave Gahan and especially Morrissey) might find his singing too over the top to take seriously. The way Wolf sees it, though, very serious topics require very dramatic treatment.

Metric's lyrical concerns are increasingly philosophical, and the band grapples with big questions with earnestness.

If Gaga had only spent as much time on pushing musical boundaries as she has social ones, Born This Way would have been a lot more successful.

By stomping just at the edge of parental propriety and sneaking in (mostly) well-crafted lyrics, her new record confirms her place as the loosest of the dance divas, one who not only preaches on the art of the party like few since Andrew W.K., but who also delivers the message through inventive, beat-heavy musical cannonballs, most produced by hitmaker Dr. Luke, that pummel with pleasure.

The band’s debut for respected imprint Rough Trade--which has served as home to bands including the Raincoats, the Smiths, Warpaint and dozens more--features short, beefy rock songs that run just long enough to make the point.

Accordingly, Gutter Rainbows too often feels like an unfulfilled promise--an excess of concrete and not enough vibrancy.

That none of this comes off as preachy or simply lame is a testament to both singers’ astute record-making skills. Though the streaming age requires pop stars to be fluent in multiple genres, Pink and Lizzo are expert in more than most.

Unfortunately, when Bragg ventures back into well-trod territory, it falls somewhat flat. Though 'Sing Their Souls Back Home' focuses on troops stationed all over the world, the teeth of past protest songs are entirely absent.

Duffy's not a belter, but she boasts a cool power that is immensely aided by the cleverness of Rockferry's instrumental settings, which employ mostly acoustic instruments for a warmer sound that, in combination with Duffy's vocal prowess, stays sweet, soulful and satisfying.

End Times is a kind of breakup album with Everett's youth that's both shimmering yet emotionally ransacked, and an affecting entry to his long catalog.

This comeback album (after eight years apart, the group reunited in 2007, triumphantly claiming the Coachella main stage this spring), is as solid as a dose of Extra Strength Tylenol.

Between this and the first "Alone" installment, there's enough gristle for the third-best Weezer album as yet unmade. Cuomo's Patron problems are beatable--it's the "Pork & Beans" that's really derailed him lately.

The Oklahoma country singer and songwriter who's reached the top of the country charts with such quaff-minded odes as "Beer for My Horses," "Whiskey Girl" and "I Love This Bar" clearly hasn't exhausted that wellspring of musical inspiration yet, returning to the corner watering hole several times in the 10 new songs on Hope on the Rocks.

Although they polish these radio baubles to a mellow shine, the pair never lose their heads in fandom.

With Keeper, Doe beautifully balances a rocker's heart and a poet's soul.

Essential? Hardly. But one listen to the lovely "Who's Gonna Shoe Your Pretty Little Feet," confirms that it's also pointless to quibble with such an oft-blissful tribute to harmony and artistic curiosity.

At times sprawling and eccentric enough to have her schooling a fictional audience on the flute-accented "Woo," this melding of old-school funk, jazzy instrumentation and dancey bleeps nevertheless flows well.

So much exuberance can be overwhelming when digested in a single sitting. Better to let the record seep in over a number of weeks.

Although Ego Trippin' is far from that elusive fourth "G"--the great record that has eluded Snoop since "Doggy- style"--it's still a fun go-round.

If Dystopia lacks the sophisticated subtleties of stuff by Daft Punk, the music successfully distracts you from its absence with huge hooks and driving beats that make subtlety seem like a bourgeois contrivance.

There are more signs he also got some of his granddaddy’s talent for mapping complex emotions with a few economical strokes of the pen. In Damn Right Rebel Proud he careens from the stone country remorse of 'I Wish I Knew' to the psychobilly ode to the truck-driving man of 'H8 Line' to the 10-minute, three-movement nose-thumbing epic 'P.F.F.' offered in tribute to G.G. Allin.

[DJ Mustard and YG] still sound great together in cuts like “Too Brazy” and “Slay,” with YG flexing his SoCal drawl over DJ Mustard’s crisp yet bouncy grooves; the music feels urgent but somehow unhurried, as though YG is sure the beat won’t go anywhere without him. The presence of his old friend brings out YG’s sly charm too.

Revolutionary? Not really. But another strong turn.

I’ll venture to call it her most focused, most cohesive album yet.

Mondo is sturdy, well-arranged pop that old crooners and hipster blues brothers alike can claim as theirs.

For Your Entertainment is a polished affair, but stylistically, it shows Lambert running loose like a kid in a Comme des Garçons store.

Spears is back at 34 with an album that carries her one-of-a-kind electricity without depicting her as a victim or an avenging force; here she seems in control, a grown woman having a laugh on her own terms.

An exercise in pointless artifice. [23 Nov 2004]

The five-piece appropriates form any genre, including rampaging punk, techno, twitchy jazz and desert-baked samba, but with renewed adventure. The 11 tracks burble and skitter to new corners and heights.

The rapper's midair brush with death only intensified his hunger. On this commanding, complicated album, he wants more out of more.

Home may be where the heart is, but Bentley was a lot more compelling when he was poking around up on the ridge.

Our Love to Admire will be looked back on as that tricky third record, the one it's cool to like best.

Hombre Lobo is much more effective when Everett keeps things one-dimensional, as in 'Tremendous Dynamite,' a deliciously fuzzy blues-punk rave-up in which he describes being "on the prowl for a restless night," and 'Beginner's Luck,' a jubilant ode to the boundlessness of new love.

If you're looking for a freaky good time, Art Official is your ticket.... An exquisite Prince R&B album.

The arrangements are sometimes overblown, but the sentiments, many of them gently philosophical looks at the passage of time, radiate with the captivating warmth and universality that is at the heart of John and Taupin's most memorable works. [14 Nov 2004]

Yet if Rumer seems to be thinking less critically here, she sounds just as beautiful doing it.

This is a far funnier (and funkier) effort than 2009's "The Resistance," which handled similar themes with a glum sobriety.

Jerry Lee Lewis, who turns 75 at the end of this month and demonstrates that he's still eminently capable of pumping those 88 black and white keys.

These aren't profound new sounds, but Anastasio embraces proven rock formulas and makes them his own, free from the cul-de-sac jams of Phish and the expectations of fans and drifters. [30 Oct 2005]

The music of AFI wasn't always as daring as its fashion sense, but the NoCal band has grown with accelerating sophistication, stepping further beyond easy pop-punk thrashings to something grander, with music to match the mopey melodrama of Havok's words.

The duo's taller half, Ronnie Dunn, was long regarded as the more distinctive singer, and on his solo debut, there's no more sharing of the spotlight to hold him back. That's about the only difference between a Brooks & Dunn record and this similarly hit-and-miss collection of odes to blue-collar empathy, patriotism and the transformative power of love.

Mostly, though, Blown Away finds her using her remarkable voice to deliver feel-good bromides.

This may not make new converts, but Spree fans will find much cause to rejoice. [11 Jul 2004]

In reality, his strategy was in place from the beginning: to embody the qualities of a villain--self-pity, megalomania, a flair for exaggeration — while presenting himself as a hero.... And it's the same calculated theatricality that powers his latest lashings on World Peace Is None of Your Business.

The group's debut oozed with chemistry, and that musical empathy has just grown stronger and tighter here. And both in songwriting and musical execution--the operative word throughout here--the Dead Weather has crafted the equivalent of a taut, expertly directed movie thriller.

The shape of the Top 40 has changed significantly since the early '00s; these days there's far less space than there used to be for white guys with guitars. So although some of these songs feel like hits, their success seems far from guaranteed.

Its musical and lyrical themes recur without fuss, and each track has its own strong identity that speaks to but isn't weighed down by the larger (and beneficially looser) narrative.

This could be the Beach Boys scoring a Hitchcock movie. [2 Apr 2006]

With his rumbling, slurring baritone and unyielding force of will, he rhymes with a preacher's power, only he's proselytizing from the corner, not the pulpit.

The ratio of less-memorable tracks is higher than on those recent bluegrass outings, but there's enough of the Parton who is one of the greatest country writers and singers of the last half-decade to make it worth hearing.

Wild and Free is as casual and familiar as a Friday afternoon. You might not remember it in six months, but that doesn't mean that it isn't a pleasant enough way to idle away the time.

Even when he's rapping to or about the ladies, Buck hits hard on this potent work.

Few artists could line up an ode to bondage right next to a love song so sweet that it could be played at a wedding or invoke Joan Jett right after sharing a cosmic trip with Cee-Lo. That's what Kelis does here. [20 Aug 2006]

The fuddy-duddy stance--thou shalt rise from the streets and compose by hand with paper and pen--feels bitterly defensive, even when Minaj lives up to her boasts about her hard-won craft, which on Queen is almost all the time.

7/27 mostly rises to the occasion.

Other appearances by Sampha, in the spacey “A Kiss Goodbye,” and Rufus Wainwright, in the stately “Little Ballerina,” bring out additional qualities in the music even as they advance Haynie’s love-gone-wrong narrative.

The more serious numbers often feel clunky. [2 Apr 2006]

If the late-add dance track confuses things, it's hard to fault Minaj. Throughout The Pinkprint, she's intent on channeling her talent to explore and document her many moods. The combination is often, if not always, intoxicating.

Loud, anthemic, joyous and bitter, it's easily the best Foo Fighters album in a decade. [12 Jun 2005]

What he sacrifices in innovation he compensates for with focus and precision.

Memoirs of an Imperfect Angel will stand out in Carey's catalog as an experiment that illuminates her place in the pantheon without either boosting it or damaging it.

Every song teems with surprisingly memorable choruses, melodies, and, well, quirks that prove hard to forget; after such a deluge of stealthy and refined charms, resistance to the TMBG formula becomes futile.

Even if some tracks unfold more like political manifestos than songs, Bad Religion has succeeded in expressing its outrage more eloquently while sustaining its musical muscle over the years. [6 Jun 2004]

The complicated result plainly contradicts its title: For a rock-star victory lap, Everything You've Come to Expect is anything but.

The subject matter eventually becomes a bit emotionally monochromatic, despite the broader sonic palette and the duo's fresh approach to mining such ancient territory. [3 Oct 2004]

A love song to American blues, gospel, country dirges and classic songwriting, rife with harmonica, soulful harmonies and dark lyrical themes anchored in notions of loss and redemption. [14 Aug 2005]

The latest in a long line of Madonna songs that ponder the many responsibilities women are asked to shoulder. The problem on “Madame X” is that neither the post-trap grooves nor the winding melodies are sturdy enough to make any of this stuff stick in the way her old classics did. She seems to have assumed that the force of her personality would put the songs across.

"FutureSex/LoveSounds" isn't an easy listen at first. Its crazy layers meld together into a sticky bit of a mess, and the lyrics are mostly standard love stuff. But repeated listening helps the tunes unravel. [11 Sep 2006]

Some of the experiments don't click, but by reconfiguring and repurposing century-spanning components of black music, she's aligned herself more with Gnarls Barkley than Mary J. Blige, and if she's risking a drop-off in hits, she's gained an artistic high ground in return.

Not only is she an artist maturing and growing with her music, but in great Amos fashion, she is making sense of her past in a wholly original, intelligent way. And at this stage of her career, she's earned the right to a few spirit guides.

Gibbard's songwriting holds up in the gently varied sonic settings here though nothing feels as immediate as his day job in Death Cab for Cutie.

My Chem's indulgent side still sometimes gets the best of them--the rave synths on "The Only Hope for Me Is You" belong on a different album. But they made a wise choice in closing with "Vampire Money," a No Wave spitball whose opening lyric is an (unprintable) fistful of garlic in the eye of "Twilight's" sexless family-values-noir.

Despite the fret board fireworks, this is an honest love letter to the art of making music.

The album is a bit daunting and demanding. But it's also compelling and rewarding. [22 Aug 2004]

Tyler's Wolf may lack in editing and aural oomph, but it more than compensates with wit, if you can get past the way he seems to revel in tossing off invectives and then doubling back to defend them.

The result is a compelling conversation between the two sides of Mould's persona: the graying philosopher and the brazen noise boy.

Wilson delivers a knockout as she serves up enough of the rowdy tunes to keep the jukebox pumping most of the night — most powered by a lively mix of ringing guitars, spunky fiddles and powerful backbeat. [25 Sep 2005]

“Shoot for the Stars,” an ambitious but scattered expansion of Pop’s sound, is widely expected to top the charts by a long shot next week. But it can’t do much more than fill in the cracks of what his life and career should have been.

This is his baby-making album, and though Thicke's freak flag is PG-13, his new randiness adds zip to an always-perfect falsetto.

From its picture-perfect album cover on down, though, “Sob Rock” — Mayer’s eighth studio LP and his follow-up to 2017’s “The Search for Everything” — is so crisply rendered that it achieves an almost art-project-like quality that transcends those emotional and commercial circumstances.

Ultraviolet is brimming with the artist's down-to-earth candidness.

The album is a pointedly minimal production, though -- most tracks are simple guitar-bass-drum affairs with a few tasteful harmonies that put the surprisingly durable hooks up front.

Ludacris includes thoughtful rhymes on "Child of the Night" and "Hopeless," but his humor is still his biggest asset and the reason he commands respect. [15 Dec 2004]

On The Boy Who Knew Too Much, British piano-popper Mika tackles the popular songwriters' gristle of teen angst but filters it through a cracked technicolor symphony of show-tune harmonies, careening falsettos and deliciously manic productions.

With considerable contributions from producer T-Bone Burnett and star string players out of Nashville (where the collection was recorded) including fiddler Stuart Duncan, dobra ace Jerry Douglas, mandolinist Mike Compton and upright bassist Dennis Crouch, Costello instills much of this outing with a fitting old-timey feel.