Banks seems determined to launch a one-man revival with perfectly polished tracks like "Addicted" and "Hands Up."

This album tends to lean more toward the psychedelic ballads, which slows down the action a little too much.

Ultimately, like her manufactured pop rivals Ashlee Simpson and Hilary Duff, Lindsay is a little too superficial to sell us angst.

Rages and riffs with epic drama.

A disc packed with so many surefire club-ready hits it'll be impossible to avoid these jams over the next year.

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 disc's cool atmosphere and expansive orchestral arrangements go a long way in making a mood.

Anchored in the surreal goofball art rock, club beats and bubblegum punk that made anomaly hits like 1996's "Pepper" so cool, frontman Gibby Haines and gang sugarcoat their standardized tales of decay and hallucinogens but keep some delicious bitterness intact.

The pop hooks are there, but we can't shake the feeling that the sentiments come off as phony.

Like a crisp Xerox of the band's multiplatinum Break the Cycle, with everything sounding bigger, brighter and tighter.

Even if the divorcée flirts with being Sheryl Crow-y bland now, she can still let whip-smart lyrics flow with her potty mouth.