It's Pulp's contribution on the terrifically revealing "Sliding Through Life on Charm" that really raises a smile...and a little something else.

Nostalgic without sounding outdated, it's one bash worth revisiting.

Keep an ear open for this solid effort's best moments: the soulful "Full Frontal Fridays" and jubilant "I Get Cravings."

It's a downer, sure, but if you've got the patience, this disc's subtle meditations have a way of working themselves into your heart.

The mellow moments define this album with "The Missing," "The Only Way (Is the Wrong Way)" and the contemplative "God Damn Me" being the main reasons to stick it out with these dudes.

Over the years, it might not stand up to classics such as Nebraska or The River, but the The Rising gives us something more important right now: a reason to believe.

It's okay, you can believe all of the fawning reviews you're going to read about this album. Because when still-kicking '60s soul legend Solomon Burke puts his earthy baritone to lyrics written by some of today's most critically acclaimed songwriters, it's simply magical.

These are just good tunes, no matter what the window dressing is.

Overall, a nice trip back to Plant's British folk rock and American blues roots.

43 minutes of thrills.

Simply the Flaming Lips doing what they do best, which is being beautifully weird and loving every minute of it.

Just when the bombast teases with sounding like nails on a chalkboard, the band turns things around to remain more cool than annoying.

It'll charm the chaps off both diehards and the folks who've discovered these backwoods sounds because of the O Brother, Where Art Thou? soundtrack.

Too much of this mopey stuff can be Hard to take.

A majority of By the Way features astoundingly wise steps in new, mature directions.

Pretty much the same Beatles-esque pub-rock with Middle Eastern punches you'd expect--though with more shared singing and songwriting duties than past outings have had.

Some of the livelier tunes don't suit her as well, and neither does overproduction. Luckily, Rosey's vocals shine through where it counts.

A winning combo of thick club cuts, hands-in-the-air call-outs, pop ingenuity and a perfect balance of entertainment and realism in his rhymes.

Walk's mellow mood sidesteps the usual overly melodramatic soundtrack hoo-ha for a journey that works as well on the stereo as it does on the screen.

Diverse and constantly engaging.

Precise? Yes. But does it work your frustrations out? Only a little.

Stanley's eloquent, understated and unpretentious folk music is more than up to the challenge of finding its place in a world devoted to teen pop and nü-metal.

The song, sentiment and anger remain the same.

The best he has sounded in years.

Cookie drips with R&B, hip-hop, Latin grooves, experimental jazz, blues and techno tidbits for yummy multilayered goodness.

The Canadian rocker looks like a (prettier) member of Sum 41, sounds like a slightly less-pissed Alanis Morissette and has the streetwise 'tude of Pink.

Rich with melody and drama, even the band's experiments--like adapting King Crimson's "Moonchild" into the lush "M62 Song"--work.

In essence, it's a younger, fitter and infinitely hipper version of what Moby is doing.