Despite their retro stylings, this Orange County, California band has served up a sixth album that is better (by leaps and bounds) than the punk-by-numbers that dominated their first two albums, 1989's Offspring and '93's Ignition. Further, Conspiracy has more well-written, hook-laden songs than anything found on their fluke indie hit, '94's fittingly titled Smash, or their too-boring-to-be-a-sell-out 1997 major label debut, Ixnay on the Hombre.

It's ironic that for all of his intelligence, passion and obvious talent, Canibus chose to stoop to the caveman mentality so apparent on this release.

Mink Car is all over the map, an ideal piece of entertainment for listeners simultaneously blessed and cursed with high IQs and attention deficit disorder.

For the most part, Malpractice unfortunately matches Redman's pro forma boasts and refreshing modesty with pro forma music and not-so-refreshing beats.

Rule's scattered third album mixes love and war with uneven results, as his simple lyrics and unimaginative storytelling outweigh the stellar musical moments on this 16-cut collection.

For the most part, the seven new tracks on The First of the Microbe Hunters, which is technically an EP, feel all too similar to last year's Cobra Phases Group Play Voltage in the Milky Night...

Between the songs sung by the cast and those by famous popsters, Music From Baz Luhrmann's Film "Moulin Rouge" has a split personality, but this purposefully assembled collection is more cohesive than you'd think -- and that's something that can't really be said for most modern film albums.

At once epic, playful and a little bit strange, the duo's latest effort perpetuates the brothers' patented geek-chic, though things come across as more introspective and ambient this time around.... Alternately excellent, kitschy and lackluster...

Devils Night is nothing special, and it's only saved from the slush pile by Eminem's inventive, cutting-edge raps and Dr. Dre's so-funky-it's-evil production.

On this excursion into the noodle-prone mind of Mr. Lee. True, all the lyrics are his and his alone, but after all this time, plenty of Peart has rubbed off on him, resulting in much impenetrable mumbo jumbo about the universe and its "secrets" ("The Angels Share") and the workings of the mind...

The album never truly develops, as the group prefers to rehash old stuff rather than break new ground.

Like a legion of goths before them, singer Jason Miller and Manson have many of the same obsessions: the death of God, suicide, the return of God, the slow descent into hell and icky piles of dirt. In Godhead's case, all of that terrain is covered in just the album's opening track, the NIN-meets-New Order new wave rocker "The Reckoning."

Just as Stewart's last major hit wisely spoke directly to his generation, Human unwisely seeks to plug him into the present one.

A relatively bloodless album, a work that seems formatted to satisfy the demands of the marketplace without really transcending them.

With its superslick production and Mariah Carey-esque vocal histrionics, the "Latin" elements in Mi Reflejo are more sanitized than Santana-ized...

Twisted Tenderness hits its turning point on the title track (RealAudio excerpt), a solitary, surefire progressive-house hit that recalls the Pet Shop Boys' 1999 album, Nightlife. From that point the album's energy improves considerably -- so there's the twist: It's not new, but it's improved.

This collection is a sugar-high set, adrenalized even more than Blink's souped-up studio albums by the waves of Cheap Trick Live at Budokan-like female screams pouring from the audience. And the playing offers plenty of evidence to quiet anyone who thinks these guys are just three-chord wonders.... But young audiences love Blink shows in part for the wiseacre, self-deprecating quips, and this album is full 'em -- and not just between songs, as there are (count 'em) 29 extra tracks of banter lasting over 10 minutes at the album's end.

On Bridge, they're still traveling down the long and winding improvisational road, with most of the tracks averaging around five minutes in length (as is true with most of their studio albums). This time out, though, the songs feel like they're twice that.

It's hard to imagine The Golden D as having much of an impact.

Wishville is seamless, expansive and full of go-nowhere moments.

Communicate's energy level lags in places, trying to make up for in quantity what it lacks in consistent quality.

If you fish around a bit, you'll find several good ideas here, some of which may have worked better in different hands.

The problem isn't so much that this album sounds dated (not surprising, as it was recorded back when Lil Bow Wow was in pre-K), but rather that the songs are so poorly mixed and produced...

Lions has got style to spare, but ends up light on meaty hooks.

Fred Durst may grab the headlines, but Chocolate Starfish and the Hot Dog Flavored Water really shows that all the power Limp Bizkit are known for comes from their bandmembers who, you know, actually play instruments. Durst's lyrics are wack when he raps and bad high school poetry when he sings.... Of course, there aren't many people looking for deep thoughts from Durst and Co. -- just lots of big, dumb, angry fun. And on that count, Chocolate Starfish and the Hot Dog Flavored Water delivers.

Would this band be getting so much attention if Keanu Reeves wasn't the bass player? Of course not. Do they stink? No. Are they any good? Maybe.

Yes, this is their "mature" album, the one where the once effervescent combo that could be counted on for enough hooky innuendoes to excite pre-teen girls and dirty young men alike aspire toward some sort of longer-lasting pop relevance. Which translates here into ballads and a huge dose of R&B-lite. It all sounds very professional, though only a hardcore fan can deny that the bloom is definitely off the rose.

Unfortunately, A Day Without Rain, Enya's first new studio album in five years, lacks the edge that could pry it loose from the New Age niche. The Irish traditional music Enya performed so skillfully in the early 1980s with Clannad has by now largely disappeared in a mélange of sly, Celtic-flavored pop hooks and muddled mysticism. The only mystery is why it took her so long to come up with something so short (under 35 minutes) -- and, in many spots, so uninspired.