Flowers features the familiar psychedelic-tinged pop songwriting, chiming guitars, and unmistakable voice that have always been the group's trademark, but 20 years down the road, experience, nostalgia, and longing have tempered the band's sound.

For all the back story that precedes her, and even with an already overplayed first single, Everybody is a terrific debut.

Eitzel's songs, at their best, could serve as fodder for the next Sinatra, should such a crooner emerge from a dingy bar on the far side of town. As performed by Eitzel himself, his compositions resonate with a mix of existential melodrama and black humor that cuts deep to the bone.

Overall, God Bless the Go-Go's is a spirited, entertaining album that was worth the wait.

Miss E is a Top 40 radio breakthrough waiting to happen, while staying solid and true to its hip-hop roots.

It's just, well, it's just another Depeche Mode album -- a solid near-hour's worth of moody, darkly insidious tunes about such time-honored topics as love, death, and pain... and love and death.

There's a lot of great music here to enjoy. The political tone on the album is more problematic, though.

Cuomo tones down his angst and replaces it with a sunny but dirty '70s rock core.

On Reveal, the sounds vary, but the songs cohere well. For a band into its third decade, making a record with no apparent weak link is an accomplishment.

A 79-minute sonic sojourn of hard rock delivered with an arty, fusion-conscious sensibility rooted most obviously from the likes of Led Zeppelin, Black Sabbath, and Jane's Addiction.

The songs, however, are principally concerned with creating atmosphere, as has always been the band's strength. Only this time the atmosphere is centered on Michae [Timmins's] contemplations of his own mortality, and it seeks musical complexity, not simplicity.

The members of Blues Traveler, new and old, still play better than they write songs, but there's no denying that the group's indefatigable spirit remains engaging.

Though his voice and attitude crosses Pet Shop Boy Neil Tennant's nasally histrionics with Gary Numan's clinical whelp, [Brian] Molko generally keeps his guitar playing tight and tough with Gothic overtones.

The only significant problem with Kidman and McGregor's numbers, which constitute half of this 15-track set, is that they don't work as well without the accompanying visuals.

Destiny's Child vamps, stamps, and oozes its way through a set of sparely arranged showcases for its layered vocal weave...

Nicks' sixth solo album is her strongest since 1983's The Wild Heart.

Underlying The Optimist's base -- two complementary voices highlighted by beautifully executed acoustic guitar -- is Turin Brakes' bent existentialism, an expansive vision that adds a feeling of fatalism to many of these songs.

OCS is quite simply straight-up and ultra-refreshing, expert in crafting great pop songs and equally adept at letting the music do its talking.

The Electric Mile more than meets expectations because this fifth effort is the group's most fully realized.

But for all its emotional directness and prodigious length, there's a point on All for You where it all starts wear thin and Jackson's moments of celebration and vindictiveness seem played out rather than genuine...

It's one of the best rock and roll records in years... the disc is a layered, beautiful thing that touches on every influence the band has revealed through its years with a refined production style that sounds at once edgy and glitteringly smooth.

Despite the initial futuristic impression, Cole proves himself to be guilty of the same superficial high concepts that taint far too many dance music albums. Still, there's much to recommend here, especially when Cole sticks to the grooves.

Peppy but relaxing chill-out tracks as sweet, shiny, and peculiar as its memorable moniker.

Supposedly split into two themes, it turns out that the music throughout is interchangeable; any track could have appeared on either CD.

It would have been a shame if this album went unheard, as it is the most fully realized Painters album to date and finds the band, as well as Kozelek's songwriting, in peak form.

The biggest surprise here is Cave's singing. Forsaking the bluesy moans and wails of older works like The First Born Is Dead and Kicking Against the Pricks, he pushes his voice in new directions...

Singing in an airily accented voice that brings to mind fellow Brit popsters Robyn Hitchcock and John Wesley Harding, Cole evokes aural images of indie radio circa 1985.

These songs don't require repeated listening to foster appreciation; they affect immediately -- and relentlessly.

Another surprisingly coherent and substantial power pop record with solid hooks and memorable songs, another dazzling combination of Anglo-pop melody, arena rock chord changes, and DIY aesthetic.

Unlike the then-career-spanning three-CD set Live 1975-1985, which was notorious for its sanitizing overdubs, Live in New York City for the most part captures the feel of a live Springsteen show.

Time Bomb packs an incendiary wallop that's as noisy as nighttime on the Fourth of July.

It comes off softer than its predecessor, and not nearly as affecting.

God Says No maintains the attributes of its predecessor but also delves deeper into the groove-y psychedelia that's also part of the band's makeup.

As a full album, Interlude falls just short of cohesion. But in the place of unity is a confectioner's pastiche of underground pop from a band that still has plenty of music to make.

Overall, this is a compelling mix of underground and moderately mainstream fare, and a top-notch -- if long overdue -- American introduction to this seasoned U.K. vet.

Haines' secret weapon lies in the hands of vocalist Sarah Nixey -- a cross between Olivia Newton-John and St. Etienne's Sarah Cracknell. Her singing style supports Haines' music with a deceptive beauty, as she wraps her voice around lyrics that belie that sweetness.

As expressive as Hammond's guitar work is on signature songs like "Heartattack and Vine," it still has a sweet sound, and that, too, is mostly a new context for Waits' songs. The horror and the hardness is less immediate, slightly more mannered.

A smooth and engaging affair, with consistently strong singing and playing from Clapton.

Ray offers up a wonderfully realized survey of underground rock.... Stag is the strongest solo debut in recent memory.

Scorpion, her second solo album in three years, stands a good chance of blowing up the airwaves and charts, though it still battles with the hardcore elements that made her first album such a disappointment.

Lyrically, they've got a ways to go.... That said, Alien Ant Farm shows some real potential.

One of the group's most adventurous outings...

As with all her solo work, Sunny Border Blue practically bleeds with catharsis and introspection, but foraging through its dark interiors yields moments of strange, exquisite beauty.

Neither a chip off the ol' Bizkit nor the kind of indulgent instrumental workout many ax aces opt for on their solo turns, Big Dumb Face is a work of clever humor, spirited silliness, and, in more than a few places, some pretty good songwriting.

Yet for all its adrenaline-rush thrills, the RFTC sound is also surprisingly complex. Like Phil Spector's '60s pop masterpieces for The Ronettes and Righteous Brothers, the sonic density of Group Sounds is actually composed of virtuoso performances and subtle nuances...

The disc evokes both the heartbreak and the buoyancy of bands like Big Star and Teenage Fanclub.

Saratoga, however, reaches a whole other level. A truly excellent show, it features a wonderful extended version of "Daughter," an absolutely kick-ass rendition of "Even Flow," and Vedder's most consistently strong singing throughout.

When all the elements of Phantom Moon align -- as they do on a handful of songs ("Mr. Chess," "Requiescat") -- the results are mesmerizing.

Like a rainy day, the music is cinematic and pulses with understated energy. The prominent drums, like dance beats on codeine, tick by metronomically -- and their interplay with Moffat's mumbled, half-spoken, too-human voice is already remarkable.

[Glen] Ballard's production, arrangements, and co-writing duties have massaged the 12 songs into a searing rock album.

The main problem on At Last is that despite her best intentions, many of the tunes are so sappy that they just don't live up to the high standards a veteran singer can and should aim for.

From the start, Because We Hate You presents itself as a rawer, more blustery affair.

While Run-D.M.C.'s chest-thumping reclamations of its prominence grow tiresome through the course of the disc -- they need to do more showing than telling -- the good news is that the tracks helmed by the group ("Crown Royal," "Aye Papi," "Ash," and "Simmons Incorporated") show that its own creative touch is still intact.

Production is a dance record, but Mirwais is no mere slave to the rhythm. While other artists keep the BPM pumped up, the songs here drift and simmer. "V.I. (The Last Words She Said Before Leaving," for example, creeps along at a funereal pace for more than six minutes and doesn't catch much of a beat until four minutes in.

Without the thundering drums and over-amped testosterone of the originals, the songs are revealed as the beautiful blues-based writings they in fact are.

In a genre that is often as repetitive as it is flighty, the witty and musically well-informed Essential Mix, though unrevelatory, works beyond the club floor, too.

The new disc has a feeling of renewal, a sense of freedom, and perhaps even fun.

Unlike fellow retro-futurists Chicks on Speed and Sylvester Boy, Ladytron doesn't completely upend new wave conventions to make a jarring artistic statement, nor are its songs as transcendent as those penned by Stephin Merritt (the Magnetic Fields) for his Future Bible Heroes project. Regardless, "604" is a smart, frisky, and invigorating listen...

For each misstep (like the relentless snare drum on the opening track "Sunflower") there are moments of sublime beauty like "Laser Beam," which feels more like a prayer than a song.

Even when the band rocks, the music is tethered to a hazy, psychedelic vibe. Occupying each end of the CD's narrow stylistic spectrum are "Pup Tent," which sounds like the Cowboy Junkies covering The Doors, and "Sideshow by the Seashore," which conjures up the image of Crazy Horse being fronted by acclaimed Athens singer-songwriter Vic Chesnutt.

You Had It Coming stands as his best work since 1989's Guitar Shop.

Stewart is surely a fine singer, but not quite at that level of being able to make the phone book sound like a masterpiece. He needs the songs, and on Human, he's only as good as the material that others provide.

Strangely enough, it seems the further Black distances himself from his heroic work in The Pixies, the better he gets.

Joined by a bevy of bluegrass talent, including Jerry Douglas, Chris Thile, and Alison Krauss, Little Sparrow is a richly wrought, beautifully performed labor of love for Parton.

The sort of disc that inevitably prompts skeptics to ask, "You call that music?"

The members of the group craft melodic grooves that mesh with unpolished but tuneful guitars and mellow vocals into a lo-fi ambient sound that grows on the listener.

It gets tiresome, sure, but should this Dogg be put to sleep? Not yet. He's still coming up with funky beats and rhymes (like every single day).

A grab-bag set of videos and live and unreleased recordings that are more of an enhancement for devotees' collections than an introduction for neophytes.

For all his flexibility, Xzibit's Restless is more skewed to the cars and clubs than the basement, due in no small part to Dr. Dre's influence as the album's executive producer. Restless rolls in the same kind of fluid funk that Dre's brought to both his and Eminem's recent albums -- fat electric bass lines and synthesized symphonics.

Somewhat surprisingly, for a band that hasn't toured much in its 12-year career, Live is full of edge-to-edge dynamite performances dating from 1990 to 1996.

This ambitious project explores roots music without the scholarly subtext of an Alan Lomax recording, offering instead a simple but powerful reinterpretation of the originals.

An outrageously accomplished and daring album-

P's best effort yet, a 70-minute affair with not quite as much filler as he's weighed in with on past projects.

Bright, punchy, and well crafted, it slathers an extra layer of grinding guitars on top of the Vol. One sound while maintaining the group's melodic trademarks.

Surprisingly and disappointingly tame.

On the group's first live album --a two-CD set recorded during triumphant return shows at London's Wembley Arena this summer -- however, the maturity that has started to pervade their personal lives, and Noel's music, is evident.

Musically, the group goes way beyond Britpop, a movement largely of its own invention, to survey Burt Bacharach-style suavity on "The Universal" and "To the End," hedonistic dance pop on "Girls and Boys," and Lennon-esque soul-baring on "Tender."

Fifth Release is an intoxicating cocktail of beats and colors that swirl and explode like a Roy Lichtenstein collage. When Pizzicato Five gets in this zone, which they do repeatedly here, all the world's a runway, and everyone's a size four and working it on pinpoint stilettos.

Since Headache doesn't go for any of Rush's extended instrumental outings or skewed dynamics, the onus is on Lee and Mink's melodies, which are generally strong and taut, building on familiar elements but adding a bit more sheen and smoothly executed changes to the mix.

And while there's a temptation to write this -- and Martin -- off as just another pop-tart confection reprising a proven sonic formula, the fact remains that the singer and his cohorts craft music that's undeniably engaging, tuneful, and, quite often, lots of fun.

There's not much fat here, but there's not much meat and bone, either. If the Offspring, still the most successful of all the latter-day Southern California punkers, once had interest in teasing and amusing its fans, it has largely hidden those qualities this time around.

While Lovers Rock is not any sort of departure from the quiet ballads that marked the group's first three albums, there is an element of freshness that aligns Sade with the current electronic music insurgence while still maintaining a distinctly analog outlook on love's foibles.

Manson's most ambitious, musically accomplished, and -- dare we say it? -- mature album to date. Holy Wood treads too much over the same nihilistic territory, raging against a God he claims doesn't exist, and describing in detail a life that he says isn't worth living. That said, there are some musically powerful moments on the album, notably the eviscerating power chords on "The Fight Song" and the galloping rhythms of "Disposable Teens."

That Sylvian has managed to fashion his extensive career into a fulfilling double disc is impressive enough. But the fact he manages to do so while still coming off as a vibrant, vital artist -- some 22 years after making his recorded debut -- is what makes Everything and Nothing especially exquisite.

Parachutes is a fully realized and expertly crafted masterpiece, each song holding its own quite well, but when grouped with the rest, they make up an impenetrable fortress of sadly beautiful, melodic, glorious Britpop.

The perfect soundtrack for workers clearing out their cubicles and trudging away after their short-lived high-tech careers abruptly ended. The 11 songs capture a bittersweet tone perfectly -- sadly witnessing cultural wreckage and detritus but finding glimmers of beauty.

Kelly's new work offers about as much stylistic variety as he could possibly be expected to, while still remaining in territory familiar to his panting fans.... All in all, the production is sharp, with some fairly clever vocal and percussion arrangement ideas throughout.

Halfway Between the Gutter and the Stars won't prompt the inauguration of a Nobel Prize category for dance music, but like Armand Van Helden's Killing Puritans and the Chemical Brothers' 1999 gem Surrender, its another great example of a maturing dance artist learning to harness the ecstatic abandon of late night dance floor epiphanies to sentiments -- musical and emotional -- inventive and universal enough to flourish in the light of day.

If you look beyond the ludicrous lyrics, you almost come to respect them as pop barometers. The music draws on everything from alternative rock to funk, but the result is not a melee of sounds but rather well-crafted syntheses.

Tomorrow's Sounds Today belies its promising title by breaking no new ground, and, in fact, retracing some pretty well-known boot-scootin' steps.... If nothing else, it's still a pleasure to hear on Tomorrow's Sounds Today what producer and guitarist extraordinaire Pete Anderson can do with material that is only average.

Now, as the group starts its third decade, U2 has found what it's looking for is good music, songs that ring with melody and hooks -- and meaning -- while still weaving in some of the ambient and electronic textures it explored on releases such as Achtung Baby, Zooropa, and Pop. The result is a richly crafted and filler-free pop album on which each song sounds like an individual work, calling to mind mid-period Beatles titles such as Rubber Soul.

Outkast's fourth album, Stankonia, is a far more complex effort than the critically acclaimed Aquemini. While Aquemini dealt with Big Boi and Dre's -- the self-described "player and poet," respectively -- contradictory personalities, Stankonia addresses the contradictory impulses of hip-hop itself.

The concept album is more than an afterthought, it's musically revelatory and one of the best records of the year.

The irony, of course, is that More Light is a perfect fit within the Dinosaur Jr catalog and, in fact, would rank as one of its better entries, a spirited, 11-song outing on which Mascis' writing and performing sound fresher and more muscular than they have in years, certainly since the early end of the '90s.

Stories From the City, Stories From the Sea has to rank as a work more musically accessible than her early material and more emotionally direct than her later stuff. It's an intriguing song cycle that stands up to -- and in fact, demands -- repeated listenings.

Though not much older than Britney Spears and Christina Aguilera, Nelly Furtado is an artist whose music stands head and shoulders above the manufactured pop pap that rules the charts right now.

Unlike his previous efforts, the guitar isn't the focal point here; instead, it's the ambience created by tape loops, scratching, and Burnside's singing and talking that makes the record both edgy and relevant.

When Mullins hits his mark (as he often does on Beneath the Velvet Sun), the results constitute Southern-flavored pop at its finest. Just don't expect your world to be rocked by lyrical insights or musical innovation.