We'll never know what Jackson really would've done with these songs but this is the first of, no doubt, many guesses we'll get that hopefully won't yield diminishing returns.

An uneven affair. [15 Aug 2004]

All this heavy construction is undertaken in the service of one of pop's thinnest, wispiest voices, and although Jackson's lack of vocal presence leaves a void at the heart of "Damita Jo," she's enough of a personality to create a few serviceable personas.

The band never quite escapes its proven pop formula or simple tales of angst. [10 Oct 2004]

There's plenty to scorn on All the Lost Souls; Blunt loves a well-worn phrase, and his attempts at humor can be surprisingly crude. But he's onto something. He's not making background music.

None of it's unpleasant to hear, particularly when someone as dependably charismatic as Snoop Dogg shows up, as the rapper does in a typically laidback take on "Get the Funk Out of My Face." And Jones hasn't lost his ear for great singers; Jennifer Hudson, John Legend and BeBe Winans all sound terrific. Yet too few of the album's 15 tracks seem brushed with the seductive audacity that defined Jones' groundbreaking collaborations with Michael Jackson.

Too much of Universal Mind Control falls conceptually flat.

Clapton's vocals here extend the feeling of renewed energy and direction he revealed on the Robert Johnson album, exhibiting gospel fervor and silky soulfulness throughout. [4 Sep 2005]

This collaboration between one unequivocal superstar and four bright lights from disparate fields--Mick Jagger, Dave Stewart, Joss Stone, Damian Marley and A.R. Rahman--yields enough inspired results to ward off fears of any cross-cultural train wrecks.

It's a shame Sugarland couldn't find room for anything as moving or richly layered as "Stay," the pair's 2007 hit that rightly landed them so many industry awards. The new stuff will most assuredly get audiences on their feet; whether it leaves them with anything beyond visceral thrill as they exit the arena is another matter.

Dupri exits the album halfway through, leaving the final five songs almost entirely to Jam-Lewis-Jackson. She seems hopelessly drawn to their old-school settings of strings, real pianos and quiet-storm drama.

The album tends to sag in the middle, and as for those gentler moments, well, one for two isn't bad ('Kristi, Are You Doing Okay?' is OK).

"In My Mind" sometimes settles for the conventional, but overall this one is too hot to drop. [23 Jul 2006]

All of it is done capably, even superbly in some cases, though F.A.M.E. also feels strained and sometimes downright desperate. That said, there's no denying he pulls off some neat coups.

The singers balance resilience with vulnerability, worldly desires with divine aspirations, but the material is simply overblown, puffed up with soap-bubble ideas and endless repetition. [14 Nov 2004]

To judge Perry as inauthentic or unoriginal would be wrong; as with any great ad campaign, uncanny familiarity is her greatest achievement.

Believe it or not, though, they've got the right stuff.

With Rebelution, Pitbull's filled a rakish niche in pop-rap.

There are individual moments of accomplishment, but the album is like a Whitman Sampler, with a sweet tidbit for listeners in pretty much any stage of a romantic relationship, leading to a fairly scattered emotional palette.

When LL teams with younger rappers... the album's momentum suffers. [23 Apr 2006]

These tough-to-decipher tracks don't feel like mistakes; they're attempts at something new, and any one could lead Phair somewhere interesting. Scattered among them are songs in which she sticks to what she does best, and they'll satisfy any fan who puts down her preconceptions and takes the time to find them.

The performers on this one likely count it among their career highlights, but those who have kept up with the quality of Davies' output in recent years may well be more interested in what he has yet to say rather than revisiting what he's already said so beautifully.

A unifying moodiness holds the album together and succeeds in defining a regional New York City sound.

This anonymous tone leaves an emotional void at the center of the album.

A glorified mix-tape... sprawling with lots of throwaway songs and loaded with interludes

He’s honed in on narrative songs that are well suited to a spoken delivery out of the Robert Preston-Rex Harrison-Richard Harris school of nonsinging actors. A delightfully dramatic outing.

Hurries from one strangely unsatisfying sparkle to the next. [5 Jun 2005]

Nothing here is complicated or profound; melodies go where you expect them to, while dynamics follow the quiet-loud pattern Nirvana turned into a recipe. Yet there's an appealing guilelessness to Rossdale's writing that gives the predictable a whiff of universality.