With scripted shows making even more of a comeback this season, viewers might be better off switching to My Name is Earl.
It’s no surprise there isn’t much difference between the singer’s studio creations and her stint on MTV’s once-again resurrected Unplugged.
What’s next? A figurative beard to go with his literal one?
Think of Metric as a poppier Yeah Yeah Yeahs or Breeders and think of Live It Out as another step toward indie-pop splendor.
For the last few seasons, the creators of Will & Grace have stopped at nothing to boost ratings.
The deeply felt personal passion that Etheridge displayed on Yes I Am remerges in her new songs.
The album is so stacked that you’d think Lil’ Kim was going away for 12 years, not 12 months.
It turns out that all the conspiracy theories and rumors surrounding Fiona Apple’s long-delayed third album were only half-truths.
Much of Libra harks back to Braxton’s previous ballad-heavy successes.
Guests like hype man du jour Fatman Scoop offer little aside from their apparent contractual obligation to brand Ben-Ari as “the hip-hop violinist.”
If you’re having flashbacks to the Spice Girls, there’s good reason.
Sarah McLachlan’s new remix album does one better than its predecessor, 2001’s Remixed.
Despite explosive passages of electric guitars, there isn’t much context for the album’s words or sonics.
Kanye West never ceases to amaze me. And not in a good way.
If inconsistency is Music from the Sun’s biggest flaw, Rihanna is doing quite well by today’s paint-by-numbers R&B standards.
Yeah, it’s like a mannequin dressed up like a website. I need an emoticon for vomiting.
Sadly, none of the album’s 14 tracks were taken from Duff’s 2002 debut, Santa Claus Lane.
It’s entertaining to watch the self-dubbed “Anti-Nicole Kidman” do the kinds of unglamorous things the glamorous Kidman would never do.
A more fully fleshed-out rock sound might have served this rock-at-heart chick better.
Teairra Marí is a combination of Ciara’s slink, Beyoncé’s bounce, and Teena Marie’s against-all-odds coolness.