Once again, it's a batch of arena-ready, metal-friendly, upbeat punk rock that often sounds like Sum 41 doing its best Bay City Rollers impression.

Listening to all this Edge-y guitar doodling and whiny wailing, the question remains: Why mess with a fun, 20-million-album-selling formula for this ponderous prog project?

This is an eerie meditation on aging, death and the corruption of popular culture.

U Saved Me's songs of praise like "Leap of Faith" and "Prayer Change" can be taken in two ways: attempts at redemption for what you've just heard or hollow attempts at album sales.

In the end, even LL himself seems a little lost in his efforts to find Todd Smith.

The treasures in this latest pile of Garbage may not be as apparent as they were in the past, but the goodies are still there.

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

A quiet, meditative effort. [5 Mar 2004, p.68]

This is pleasant, bouncy pop, perfect for the carefree days of summer.

It's mostly funny, but it also gets kind of same-y as these average Joes embrace their marching-band backgrounds and revel in self-deprecating humor.

This feather-light affair simply lacks any real memorable tunes.

Even if it is twice as long as it needs to be (thus, a couple of dead spots), we're not arguing. We're just enjoying the music.

Her voice has grown huskier with age, the songs are barely there, and hip-hop producer Mike Elizondo doesn't have the delicate hand that's required to bring them to life.

The Los Angeles band wants to be Radiohead so bad it hurts, but too bad--they're just too good at pop.

For hard-core fans, there's a wealth of rare gems here.

A mixed bag, with its fair share of unsatisfactory pop throwaway moments but also a healthy dose of midtempo ballads and stratospheric numbers.

She mysteriously trims away her individuality and morphs into a J.Lo imitator.

Fun, but hardly fresh.

Sounds like it was recorded in a tin can and constructed from leftovers off the group's debut.

All of this vitriol, however, tears away at the more palatable hooks found in past Saliva hits, which isn't necessarily a good thing.

The result? An album that could just as easily bear the name of any other pop singer working the charts today.

Teeters on '80s synth cheese every now and again.

Suffers from many of the same problems that tripped up its predecessor: too many skits, too few ideas and a voice that is neither hard nor particularly flowery.

The sonic pleasure of the band's languid guitar balladry still pulses, and bassist Britta Phillips adds pleasant Stereolab-y vocals to some tracks, but there isn't much here you haven't heard before from Luna.

You can hear them struggling on Make Believe to keep fans bouncing along to the power-pop anthems but also keep it interesting for themselves so frontman Rivers Cuomo won't put the whole thing on hiatus again.

Its glossiest production yet.

Singer Sam Prekop sounds as delightfully laid-back as ever and John McEntire's production remains inventive, however, the combined effect is more limp than limber.

But by not lyrically responding to the originals--like Liz Phair did for Exile in Guyville, for instance--Tori stops short of high concept and more than once slips from being revolutionary to simply pretentious.