Sounding like a Pabst Blue Ribbon-slamming cross between John Cougar Mellencamp and Janis Joplin, Etheridge unleashes pool-hall rockers... as if every night is Friday night.

Not for the weak (or for Foo fans, really), this is some heavy hard-core stuff that's supernaturally superb.

Yes, the melodies are a little sillier this time around, however the electro-funk grooves are doubly irresistible.

The result is a bumpy, self-indulgent ride, sure, but Love's fuming testimony is packed with a scraggily voice screaming to be heard and a bombastic blast of rage, raw power and sarcasm.

Too much of the disc is filtered through clinical and slightly jazzy rock that renders it a tiny noise about nothing.

Looks back to prehistoric U2 and Cure records for inspiration.

[Lostprophets] mine the acts of groups like Faith No More and Incubus to put a more palatable edge on the sluggish nu-metal genre.

A welcome return to the group's down-tempo beginnings.

[An] elegant mix of jazz, electronica and lush gospel choruses.

Twista still manages to steal the limelight on hot booty-busters like "Slow Jamz" and "Pimp On."

[Starsailor] sounds more confident than ever.

If you're not already into it, you're not missing much.

It's just so staccato and nonlinear, a sort of free-jazz version of rock with just too much going on and little worth hearing.

It's as gripping as N.W.A.'s groundbreaking Straight Outta Compton.

A mind-twisting collision of rock, techno and hip-hop.

The change may shock fans, but Phantom Planet wears the shaggy tunes well.

So cool and so good that no one will even notice Meg White has been replaced by a mandolin.

Her most far-out R&B work to date.

Taken seriously or not, Splinter holds together just fine.

Kinky, however, gets tangled up when they attempt to rock out in English, and the odd rhymes and dated '80s vibe taint their musical revolution.

Keys, however, proves to be a better singer than songwriter, as most of the latter half of the album slips into sleepy piano numbers.

If last year's Under Construction was a little weird, then This Is Not a Test! is barking mad--in the greatest way.

Fails to whip up much excitement.

A euphoric mix of wild Latin rhythms, electronic surges, soothing acoustic sounds and just about every instrument imaginable.

You can't deny that these dudes are on to something great. Seriously.

She finally delivers an album that's more fun than filler.

Hearing the bare-bones "Across the Universe" or a de-orchestrated "The Long and Winding Road" is revelatory.

Even though the cast spends an inordinate amount of time treading over the subjects Fiddy already hit with his own Get Rich or Die Tryin'--dope, guns and themselves--tracks like "Poppin' Them Thangs" and "Groupie Love" have just the right mix of humor and heat to make them stand on their own.