If one wanted to quibble, one could say that the Cash-Rubin collaboration is starting to feel just a little formulaic.... yet Cash continually surprises with his ability to completely inhabit material by writers much younger than him.

Building on Whitey Ford's organic folk-pop rap, Eat at Whitey's develops the songwriter's street-style troubadour fixation even further. This time, there's more singing than rapping, and his gruff vocals actually sound stylish, especially on the provocative "Black Jesus" and the memorable "Black Coffee."

Well, if nothing else, the search for the year's dumbest album title is over. And in some respects, the search for the year's dumbest album, too. True, Limp Bizkit's third release is filled with thrashworthy hooks, hardcore beats, and plenty of blind rage, but frontman Fred Durst is so inarticulate about exactly what is pissing him off that it's tough to take him seriously.

This disc is all over the map, in terms of style, energy, and overall execution.... the band sounds fine but too often lapses into cuteness with songs that don't hold up beyond novelty appeal.

An album awash in old new wave sonics, borrowed Ziggy-isms, and facile science fiction claptrap. As you'd expect with an album called Vapor Transmission, it suffers from quite a bit of gas.

Not only is this "collection of previously unreleased material, rarities, and B-sides" far better than most such discs, but, quite frankly, it's also superior to most regular albums.

Soul Daddy offers the real spirit of the Daddies, a blend of styles that rocks as much as it swings, taking side trips into soul reggae and smoky lounge blues along the way. The combination makes for a much more potent recording.

Instead of serving up another platter laden with goopy ballads or attempts to revivify '40s swing, Midler sets her sights on more ambitious and varied targets this time, with engaging covers of easygoing soul tunes and a few spicier selections tossed in. The results, while promising, are a mixed bag.

Listening to Breach, the meat-and-potatoes rock of Bruce Springsteen and especially Tom Petty comes immediately to mind... Breach is one of the most anticipated rock releases of the year, and it clearly is worthy of all the talk it has generated.

Bowie at the Beeb isn't just a historic document; it's a fascinating portrait of a man ascending to the height of his musical powers.

Unfortunately, Rule 3:36, which does feature a few worthwhile moments, doesn't string enough strong tracks together to be a cohesive, effective listen.

An ardent and successful attempt by the British quintet to divorce and distance itself from its past and to reinvent both itself and our notions of pop music, using soundscapes rather than songs, and instrumental choices that are a far cry from the group's previous forays into its own brand of guitar rock.... odd, perplexing, and utterly fascinating...

The stripped-down arrangements and meditative flavor of the songs bring to mind such uncluttered efforts as 1983's Hearts and Bones or even Simon's 1972 solo debut.

Sailing to Philadelphia represents yet another high watermark in his impressive recording career.... If there's anything to quibble about here, it's that the CD's energy sags because it contains so many ballads and mood pieces.

The lack of quality material here isn't the only problem with Revelation; the entire production lags as well.

The Black Eyed Peas are much better musicians and rappers, and play the majority of the instruments on Bridging the Gap. Their songwriting, however, is somewhat suspect...

Ratdog is... weighed down on its debut by a sense of its own mortality.... And, like the Dead, Ratdog's forays into spirituality, notably the dippy "Two Djinn," only serve to give unbelievers more fodder for ridicule.

An album of stunning acoustic folk-blues... Hiatt is at his absolute sharpest in terms of songwriting, and the arrangements, most often just guitar, bass, and mandolin or a second guitar, are fully fleshed out and never feel spare or slight.

Edited and mixed with Sandman's oversight prior to his death, Bootleg: Detroit was taped by a Morphine fan at the band's March 3, 1994, show at Detroit's St. Andrew's Hall, capturing the band and its hyper-aware fans at the height of pleasure.

Working from a crate stuffed with quality cuts that blur the lines between trance, techno, and tribal house, Oakenfold deliberately showcases selections that err on the melancholy or contemplative side... Contrasted against the sometimes formulaic feel of Oakenfold's other comps, this is a stellar reminder of why he's remained a superstar for so long in a genre that's notorious for its short attention span.

As always, the acoustic pop tracks remain the Go-Between's most effective.... It's clear that the band's heyday, those heady times that supplied fans with a surfeit of astonishingly good pop songs... are over, but there's also no doubt that McLennan and Forster can still turn out quality goods.

Well-constructed but largely uninspiring... Its lyrics offer little that's dynamic or artful, so what are listeners really left with? Decent melodies, to be sure, and nicely produced tracks... But deep down, the music and lyrics rarely match up, and few songs establish a mood for long enough to hang your heart on.

The surprise is how extraordinarily well it all fits together, songs and guest vocalists pulled from all over the landscape, all blues and all inescapably Willie.

[Co-producer Mirwais Ahmadzai's] deft touch for crafting disarmingly warm songs out of synthetic tools gives Music a rich, human quality that nicely underscores Madonna's quietly personal -- if purposefully vague -- lyrics.... it's the music that ultimately sucks us into Music.

Without the context of the film, the songs don't stand particularly well on their own for the purposes of casual listening.

Divorced from the event's theatrics, this 2-CD set is immensely unsatisfying.... it's as if the life has been choreographed out of the performances.

Maroon is BNL's grown-up album, still full of clever wordplay and winking couplets, but also dealing with dark and sometimes disarming matters of adulthood.

She still suffers under the Whitney-Mariah delusion that Volume equals Passion, which proves to be her greatest undoing on this 11-song set.