It remains to be seen if Dirt will truly be an equal opportunity satire or just another actor-produced attack on the paparazzi.
Madeline’s debut album touches on love, sexual politics, and…circuses.
Why so damn pissy, Lily?
Rudd imbues his songs with an array of sounds and textures like traditional and classical Indian slide guitar, organ, and didgeridoo drones.
Doiron’s sometimes off-kilter vocal arrangements are a perfect match for her lyrics.
Ciara and producer Rodney Jerkins give no indication of R&B’s present or future interest in dance music besides nostalgia for the ’80s.
What’s a retrospective when entire chunks of a career are unaccounted for?
Fantasia’s sophomore effort is certainly a more unified artistic statement than 2004’sFree Yourself.
At least everyone can agree that Britney Spears’s rediscovery of underwear is an encouraging trend that will, we hope, continue into 2007.
Gwen Stefani trades in her Fiddler on the Roof soundtrack for The Sound of Music.
“The Saints Are Coming” is a dubious collaboration between U2 and Green Day.
Cazwell’s mini-album is the queer-eyed rap cousin to Justin Timberlake’s blue-eyed soul.
9 is enough of a departure to prove that Rice can rock as well as he can lull—and still tug heartstrings.
The album gives you the sense of hearing something truly ancient being married to something very modern and present.
The Killers’s Sam’s Town is the kind of autofellatio that could destroy a band’s career.
The album’s strings are sexy and cinematic, the guitars ominous and foreboding.
Once Again never really reaches the heights of Get Lifted.
Executive producer is one title Sean Combs can wear proudly.
It was fitting that the final stop on Goldfrapp’s U.S. tour, at New York’s Roseland Ballroom, began with Cerrone’s “Supernature.”
In a recent column, Andrea Peyser likened Madonna’s recent adoption of an African AIDS orphan to taking home a souvenir.