It's that menacing air surrounding "Familiar" that makes it worth a listen, and Oasis is, quite simply, loads of rock and roll fun.

Lee has produced a competent, contemplative record that should tide fans over until the power trio's long-awaited return to local arenas.

Manson still has the most bloodcurdling scream in rock. But the flat-footed musical backing on "Holy Wood" leaves his delivery sounding strained, like an overburdened star left naked on an empty stage.

Following a path forged by fellow U.K. exports Badly Drawn Boy and Travis, still-wet-behind-the-ears quartet Coldplay prefers a folksy, familiar approach to guitar pop.

"Forever" is about as glossy as it gets. It's also understandably predictable.

He's ditched dusty folk LPs for guest appearances by stars such as Bootsy Collins and Macy Gray. Gentrification suits him. For all her classic-soul flare, Gray is fond of abrasive nuance. Her singing is the perfect analog counterpart to his techno-philia; those saliva-laden glitches turn her catch phrases into perfect little samples.

The band neither succeeds wildly nor fails. There are only a few reminders of the lackluster dance sounds in its recent work... Otherwise, what dominates are the straight-ahead rhythms that drove the early days.

There are moments on this album when you remember Nirvana used to open for J Mascis' old band, Dinosaur Jr. There are many such moments, gloriously ragged snatches of rock.

Burnside's singing is the strongest it's been in years, hitting aching falsettos in "Bad Luck City" and then, on the title track, letting his voice get as dark and gritty as the silt of the Mississippi River.

The results on "Solitary Man" are mixed, leaning at times to inadvertent novelty.

Rarity collections can often times be largely unsatisfying to anyone but die-hard fans, but not so with ASTH. Songs such as "Bring Your Lovin' Back Here," "78 Stone Shuffle" and "Steve McCroski" stand up against the best of anything the band has recorded.

Fans will be happy to find Jakob more upfront, and keyboardist Rami Jaffe utilized, but differently than past straightforward organ parts.

You're going to have to dig through a barrage of radio-ready songs to find the excitement of previous albums.

Their third release has no apparent monster single like "The Way," but the recording as a whole contains a higher number of strong songs. It rocks harder, and the band's previously overpowering influences--most notably Elvis Costello--are now beautifully integrated into a more developed and identifiable sound.

The real standouts here, though, are the ballads. With "I Deserve It" and "Gone," the legacy of the corporeal and spiritual Madonna lays down amid the simplicity of basic percussive beats and acoustic guitar.

The new Tom Tom Club album is a lot like its title: a pop-culture reference whose impact fades upon inspection.

In contrast to the 6ths' blissed-out "Wasps Nests," which included indie credibles Lou Barlow and Georgia Hubley, "Hyacinths" mines cabaret territory.

Unfortunately, Harding misses more than he hits.... musically most of the tracks sound forced and untrue.

There are hints of the stuttered hooks that snared listeners on the band's '95 debut, yet they're so snarled in manic sound, you're unsure whether you're being grabbed or gagged.

A maniacal slab of DIY punk rock ?

His loving treatment of these 16 tunes (counting one hidden track) is testament to both the rich legacy of American music and Alvin's own reverence for things past.

The band nearly succeeds in messing with your head. However, front man Courtney Taylor's hamming like Jagger on "Bohemian Like You" and the country schlock of "Country Leaver" are definite buzzkills.

Despite his always dead-on guitar playing and decent set of pipes, Setzer pens original material that tends toward repetition. Couple that with a rather pedestrian "Mack The Knife"... and "Vavoom!" comes across as listenable, but ultimately forgettable

An unadulterated fey morsel.

The trio, whose sound could be loosely described as arena rock with a heavy nod to the Seattle flannel era, fail to entice the listener with the requisite hooks and melodies that define great songs.

Admittedly, he seems to be missing a sparring partner like McCabe and thus, "Alone" often suffers a lack of tension. Still, Ashcroft's unabashed joy is rather contagious.

An infectious record.

The refrains and horn tracks of "Quality Control" are all the ammo you'll need in your next argument about the rejuvenation of hip-hop.