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.

One listen, and you'll be hooked on the happiness.

He often riffs for too long, so by the time he's singing to his daughter on "Hailie's Song," you feel the album's nearly 80-minute length.

A just-okay collection of mellow ruminations that, at its best, recalls Tom Waits' Bone Machine, and, at its worst, sounds like indie rock's answer to James Taylor.

Her lilting angelic voice and ethereal alternating waves of electronic and acoustic musical accompaniment make Nova's contemporary folk-pop tunes perfect for TV-styled teen angst and lessons in love.

Another cool chill-out album.

What the Kids lack in pep this time they make up for with honest, homey performances.

A welcome return.

Perfect pop fun for short attention spans.

Some tracks are as disconnected as a David Lynch film, but no one does misery like this neo-blues hollerer.

Veni Vidi Vicious literally explodes with frenetic guitar jangle and audacious hooks.

This solo disc by Phish phrontman Trey Anastasio offers some delicious bait.

The end result is creative, inspired and, most important, individual.

The songs lack the emotional depth of Bewilderbeast, but the jaunty folk-pop is just so much fun.

Elvis Costello is back, bashing and clanging away at what he does best: delivering out vitriolic songs of curdled romance and sodden, soiled dreams.

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.

[Stereo] is brimming with expressive, beautifully articulated songs that speak to both sides of his personality.

This disc's rich, exotic flavor gets more intense the longer you chew on it.

The disc's bountiful electric piano, plaintive acoustic guitars and gentle vocals recall old AM radio fare like Cat Stevens or, more currently, an American version of Travis.

There are more than enough moments when Sheryl really shines in that Sheryl way.

A weird ride, but a good one.

A quietly retro mix of guitars and organ-fueled songs, the music simmers rather than boils over.

Another collection of wise, witty tracks marked by her usual spunky vocal style and slashing slide-guitar work.

Fang packs all the punk-rock wallop, menacing guitars and dirty, funky blues Spencer fans crave.

Hummingbird does not disappoint fans who like their R&B buzzing with a side of multitempo hip-hop.

A glorious noise in which wailing guitars, teeth-rattling drums and Ralph Cuseglio's bug-eyed hollering leave no place for pretense.

Taken as a whole, Souljacker comes off so bleak it overwhelms the album's strengths, like its memorably catchy melodies and sonically brilliant tracks.

Become You serves up sparse coffeehouse acoustic arrangements with a side of gorgeously hoarse and shimmering vocal harmonies.

Evokes Jamiroquai, Steely Dan and Curtis Mayfield--all at the same time.

The album bubbles with climatic ambiance and sophisticated grooves.

A surprisingly agreeable, if lightweight, disc.

Just like the architects behind Kid A, they take all these creepy elements and make something totally excellent.

The slow-motion funk of the previously unreleased "Ghost Train" alone makes it worth the sticker price.

Sing-along melodies and breezy hooks are strewn throughout.

Her stream-of-conscious lyrics about self-esteem and troubled relationships are just more of the same medicine that went down better with 1995's Jagged Little Pill.

There are times when Conrad Keely's scabrous vocals are more grating than ingratiating, but this is mainly stunning stuff.

Gorgeous and intimate, the 14 songs on her debut disc ache with romantic maturity and a smart, slow-jam sexiness that belies the fact that, at 22, Jones is hardly older than Britney.

At 16 tracks, the melancholy mood lingers a bit long, but hey, if you can handle some meandering in your Britpop, then Here's something for you.

Simply striking.

Yeah, Issak's tunes are the equivalent of rock comfort food, but they always go down so easy.

Each cameo adds style, pizzazz (and most importantly, cool vocals) to the four-man crew's turntable acrobatics.

Confirming everything that is great about Tom Rowlands and Ed Simons, Come with Us is equal measures driving rhythms and euphoric, widescreen melodies.

A few more tangible melodies would have gone down well, but the overall mood is magnificent.

But for all their influences, the Anniversary retains its own personality, with a laid-back style and pizzazz that keeps this party a pleasant one.

A far more streamlined affair, songs stretch out into dreamy extended jams that make bossa nova rhythms, sizzling electronics and screeching metal guitars seem like perfectly acceptable bedfellows.

The perfect guest at your next guilty-pleasure dance party.

Their debut drips of melancholy and swims in gorgeous sheets of incidental noise.

The band has energy and urgency anew.

The band's playing is mellow and freer than their tenser past outings, and frontwoman Johnette Napolitano's voice remains pleasantly husky. But some of the band's beautifully gritty venom is missing.

Frontman James Walsh channels Jeff Buckley's soaring vocals so perfectly over those lovely acoustic guitars and pianos that you won't be surprised when you hear the band's named after a Tim Buckley album.

The disc is bubbling with techno effects, a loose interpretation of Jamaican production and a (welcome) severe case of ADD.

With so much soundtrack and jingle work to be done, who can really blame these marketing all-stars for playing to their past successes?

It's not exactly the most sophisticated rap album of the year... but with production by Swizz Beatz on "Cry Babies (Oh No)," the head-bobbing chorus for "Rollout (My Business)" and the smooth joint effort with Nate Dogg ("Area Codes"), the crass clown can be entertaining.

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

Recalls other feisty femmes like Alanis Morissette and Cyndi Lauper, and it all comes out lookin' rosy.

The Detroit rapper brags about life after success--money, women, drinkin'--and uses his mediocre rhyming skills on anthemic, fist-pumping Rock staples like "Forever" and "Cocky."

Who is Jill Scott? This is--in all her eloquent, inspirational, beautiful and melodic glory.

Merchant has achieved a lovely balance of art and craft.

This album contains just eight tracks--but each one of them is a testament to the unshakable power of the group.

Country's biggest commodity takes the easy way out with a meticulously picked and produced batch of tunes (see: safe) that would be impossible to screw up.

While [Linda's] death hangs over much of Driving Rain, Macca's knack for taking a sad song and making it better means tracks like "Lonely Road," "It Must Have Been Magic," "Your Way" and "Back in the Sunshine" are redemption songs, not exercises in self-pity.

Good luck trying to keep your head from spinning around like Linda Blair.

Taking a cue from the success of his last major hit, "Again," Lenny, the sensitive, midtempo balladeer, cavorts all over this largely reflective, romantic effort.

Radio stations will still probably ignore the old-school, stylish singles like "Proper Propaganda" and "Heavy Rotation" that make Expansion Team a winner.

Their movement toward non-nooky maturity continues here with tunes like the melodic and soaring "Wish You Were Here" and the dramatic "Warning"--each showing a more reflective and poetic side than before.

A warm serving of elegant late-night ballads that infuse acoustic and pedal-steel guitars with back-porch rhythms and arrangements.

The long-standing ambient-techno pioneer uses everything from heart-attack-paced jungle to classically minded electronic minimalism to remind us why bands like Radiohead cite him as an influence

The lyrics are as trite and cheesy as ever, but age and playing house with No Doubt's Gwen Stefani have mellowed model-esque frontman Rossdale.

Backed by 22-year-old grandson Cedric Burnside on drums and longtime slide-guitar partner Kenny Brown, the trio locks into a groove almost instinctually on tracks like "Skinny Woman" and "Goin' Down South."

Mellencamp's crackling, gorgeous Heartland pop resonates more now than ever--even if, at times, he sounds like he's ripping off his best guitar moves.

The best tracks--"Crystal" and "Turn My Way"--sound like they were recorded in 1987.

It's a welcome change to the current hard-rock juggernaut.

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.

The hip-hopper's gravelly vocal style benefits greatly from the many collaborations here.

Per usual, the content is clouded in misery--the kind of soft, sad and touching tracks that'll have Dido fans rediscovering this Greenwich Village adult-alternative pioneer

The electric mood of Adams' sophomore disc definitely reflects his good fortunes and knack for solid songcraft.

Clever? Yes. Stupid? Possibly. Essential? Absolutely.

Musically, the album bounces from a full-on urban polka ("Oblivion") to tracks with plenty of Apollo Showtime-style organs, horns and disco and funk elements that keep the wacky tales from sounding wack.

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.

[Dylan's] most cohesive work in over a decade...

Casual fans of modern rock may drown here (and probably won't get it), but admirers of like-minded artists such as the Flaming Lips and Built to Spill will certainly get Rev-ved up.

This hand-clapping, disco-ball-driven journey sounds like all the other stuff in [Jay Kay's] catalog.

The Bed-Stuy boy musters up enough of his own charisma, charm and wit to build another solid release.

Where the debut sometimes resembled a psycho-ward jam session, System serve up some surprising melodies on "Chop Suey!" "Forest" and the haunting "Aerials."

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.

Is a welcoming entrance for new fans as much as it is another fine chapter for the diehards.

Injecting the album with plenty of soul, gospel and throwbacks to that old-school Motown sound, producers like the Neptunes, Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis and guests like Eve help round out what's possibly the best R&B album this year.

Björk's latest is as delightfully eccentric as her choice in outfits, blending scratchy electronic programming with tinkling music boxes and squeezing her formidable voice into ancient-sounding harmonies or futuristic whispers.

The odd combination of Coomes' rinky-dink keyboards and Weiss' booming beat is scrappy, stripped-down and still charmingly unlike anything else out there.

Krauss is blessed with one of the most coolly beautiful voices on record, and she's often better than her material, which is once again the case here.

Maxwell's latest finds the steady and seductive soul-provider drawing more from the class of Marvin Gaye than the trash of R. Kelly--with a touch of spirituality thrown in.