All the Right Reasons doesn't so much pick up where 2003's The Long Road left off, but damn near replicates that album in whole.

We'd rather watch the Dandys than listen to 'em.

It's business as usual.

Chapter V is merely a carbon copy of, uh, chapters I-IV, simply rehashing the same punishing riffs and self-pitying lyrics.

For the most part, the vitality is gone.

Even if they aren't Never Gone, their inspiration certainly is.

Tracks like "Lonely No More" might strike a chord because people will think it's a funky new Maroon 5 song. However, Backstreet Boys-esque ballads like "Ever the Same" and "When the Heartache Ends" are just way too much to handle.

A set of predictable, plastic, street-tough R&B jams.

The First Lady should be the last album on anyone's shopping list.

Sure, sanitary party jams like "Switch" will get the PTA meeting rocking, but there's just no getting around Smith's insipid rhymes.

The B. Coming attempts to document the emotional upheaval Sigel went through during his trial and conviction, but from the start the sober moral tone and forced gospel choruses make it obvious the MC's mind is on other matters.

A few moody moments work, but this CD should come with a warning sticker that reads vacant.

It says a lot about an album when the best song, "Get Right," is actually a leftover from Usher's Confessions.

Shows the SoCal outfit mining the same bright pop-rock riffs that are being done better by the younger kids today.

The first word that comes to mind while listening to Destiny Fulfilled is: boring!

Given that this may be your final release, this is no way to say goodbye.

Gold Medal's tempos are sluggish and the lyrics are emotionally vacant.

At their best they sound like a female Black Sabbath tribute band, at their worst they sound like slutty old goth rockers. Frankly, neither is all that appealing.

A disc that sounds like it's... 1998.

There are no new ideas, no points of interest.

What sounds great on paper feels like hollow tribute on closer inspection.

Seventy Two & Sunny breezes by with the worst kinds of countrified clichés... sung by a guy who was never meant to carry a harmony.

His voice is rough, the melodies fall flat, and there's even a guitar solo by Eric Clapton.

Velvet Revolver sounds like a hungover bar band playing catch-up, wading through tired blues licks and meaningless grunge imagery.

He can still work a guitar and woo the pants right off of you, but after listening to another round of patchouli-soaked ballads like "Baptized" and "What Did I Do With My Life?" you really begin to consider running the other way.

This is mainly just D12's other five anonymous members moaning on about the lack of credit they get by dropping the most underwhelming rhymes this side of the last Dogg Pound album.

There's little to dig here as the guys sound like a three-headed John Mayer or a trio of little Joe Jacksons.

It sounds like he wrote his lyrics by taking random words out of a thesaurus.