Coldplay. There, it’s been said.
Truth Hurts oozes personality, and the racy, sexy, and mature Ready Now almost completely fills the promise of her debut.
Alanis Morissette’s latest, the pleasantly unambitious So-Called Chaos, forsakes anger for forgiveness and grandeur for simplicity.
“Do you know the history of this building?” Nelly Furtado asked her not-quite-sold-out New York audience at Midtown Manhattan’s the Town Hall.
Seriously, who needs college when you can simply follow in West’s lead and become a multi-platinum powerhouse?
Much of Trampin’ finds Smith calling for peace.
U2’s Pop found Bono turning his usual political protest rock toward God, as well as his own personal demons.
Listening to the album is akin to searching for a diamond in the rough.
Snow Patrol has brushed off the softness of their Belle and Sebastian-style past for Final Straw, their major label debut.
The newly restructured Arista Records is being ushered in with a bang.
The album features a slew of the gooey, structureless sex ballads that have become Janet’s staple.
Fly or Die is pretty damn grounded.
If there was ever a time for George Michael to get his groove back, it’s now.
Eamon manages to salvage a mess with some sort of politically incorrect, tongue-partly-in-cheek charisma.
Finally Woken is a mix of silky pop-friendly hooks, cinematic string samples, and sturdy hip-hop beats.
The Disconnection is the kind of striking rock document that only comes once in a great while.
The album is a horny medley of ’80s dance influences and libidinous come-hither sentiments that would make Prince proud.
Quaye hits his best stride on reggae/dub gems like “Pearls of Wisdom” and “Face to Face,” where he sounds more like Horace Andy than Ben Harper.
America’s Sweetheart is practically unlistenable, but that’s not to say it isn’t a fascinating mess.
In many ways, Katy Rose is what Avril Lavigne should be but isn’t: brash but intelligent, irreverent but unexpectedly worldly.