Everlast's pretensions and ambition still outstrip his talent, however, and the distance between the two makes Eat At Whitey's both intriguing and frustrating.... like a defensive tackle trying his hand at ballet, he's far too clumsy and limited a singer and songwriter for the delicate material he attempts.

Perhaps hip-hop's hottest production duo, The Neptunes can claim credit for many of the best moments on Let's Get Ready, from the Spaghetti Western guitar of "Danger" to the nervous sonic aggression of "Jump." Mystikal's whirling-dervish flow has seldom sounded better, but like Snoop Dogg's otherwise-excellent No Limit Top Dogg, Let's Get Ready is undermined by monotonous production from the producers formerly known as Beats By The Pound. Though off No Limit, Mystikal has brought his old team (now renamed Medicine Men) with him, and their six tracks pale in comparison to those from the album's other producers (OutKast, PA, Bink, The Neptunes).

The largely pleasant new Sing When You're Winning offers up more of the same, material for an alternate-universe Top 40 aimed at twentysomethings rather than the orthodontia crowd.

Though not exactly a bad album, when contrasted to the remarkable Graceland and Rhythm Of The Saints, it sounds as arbitrary as a collection of B-sides.

[Merritt] leaves vocal duties entirely to his guests here, an impressive group that includes new-wave forebear Gary Numan and '70s warbler Melanie alongside an all-star collection of indie-rock fixtures. Unfortunately, he's given them some of his weakest material to date, delicate but forgettable songs that often sound like discarded leftovers from 69 Love Songs.

The son of Richard and Linda Thompson, Teddy Thompson has genetics on his side, with a powerful voice and, in his best moments, the songwriting skills to match his heritage. Too bad, then, that his debut feels so tentative.

Saint Etienne has made an egregiously Cardigans-esque wrong turn, abandoning impeccable craft and Motown melodies for the breezy if aimless experimentation of its wildly uneven EPs.

"Last Beautiful Girl"... would be good enough to inspire a wholesale reassessment of Matchbox Twenty if the material surrounding it weren't so average.

But the album as a whole--which, at eight songs in 42 minutes, barely exceeds EP length--is woefully uneven, with producer Jim O'Rourke indulging the band in some truly ill-conceived whims.

When The Geometrid is good, it's extremely good... Too much of the album's remainder, however, is forgettable and lukewarm, the work of a band that's still trying to define itself.

This is Young's strongest set of songs in years, but the disc just isn't compelling.

Return Of Saturn is turning out to be nowhere near the DOA dud many had long anticipated. But it's also a dispiriting collection of some of the least empowering music ever recorded...

Arthur's shortcomings as a lyricist make his emotional palette seem as limited as his sonic palette is varied and, however layered the production, his songwriting nearly always follows suit.

As uneven an album as Reed has released, it might be easier to take if there had been more of them in the past seven or eight years. Instead, it feels like the latest in a series of anticlimaxes.

Everything about MACHINA is capital-I Important, with virtually every element delivered in gaudy excess?

Personal project or not, the pretty Pieces In A Modern Style isn't much more than a Hooked On... collection for a digital age.

It doesn't always work, and even when it does, there's no getting around the unshakable sense that Clinton is a side project above all else, with none of the transcendent moments found on Cornershop's albums.

Apple is ... crafty, covering up her rambling, dorm-friendly lyrics with sharp arrangements and sturdy songcraft.