Flicka is a beautifully photographed slice of pony porn for the preteen set.
Gang of Losers is a sturdy collection of barely contained alienation.
Under The Skin washes over you like a summer breeze.
Lupe Fiasco’s relentless positivism never overwhelms his casual rhymes.
The production, thankfully, is varied, slick, and interesting.
You can practically hear the energy draining away as the album progresses and one song slides into another.
Ta-Dah isn’t an unimpeachable triumph from front to back, but it’s a hell of a good showing.
Broken Bridges soft-pedals tired tripe about redemption, reconciliation, and finding solace in the bottle.
Barenaked Ladies Are Me is many things, but a surefire home run it isn’t.
The album is a taut, restless collection that cements the duo’s status as blues torchbearers for a generation.
“Hey Ya!” was probably the worst thing that could’ve happened to OutKast.
The album is revenge against an unfair world delivered with a hug rather than a clenched fist.
Dylan’s 44th studio effort Modern Times might be the most upbeat feel-bad album of 2006.
Sæglópur is a fleeting experience, but one which resonates.
What’s Going On makes sense for a band renowned for its forward-thinking fusion of R&B, gospel, soul, and jazz.
It’s hard to shake the sense that Starsailor is angry as to how they’ve fared on this side of the Atlantic.
The album is an intriguing mishmash of sounds, beats, and vocal affectations.
Lemonade is practically a case study in G. Love’s particular flavor of effortless cool.
Surprisingly, the band’s sound feels just as loose and fresh as it did 17 years ago.
It takes mighty big huevos to feel up to the task of reinterpreting a clutch of rock classics from the ’80s