The Leeds junglist tells a story in the wrong order, in the right way.
Shock Value II is the kind of bonus fluff that you can get away with releasing when you’re as famous and respected as Timbaland.
Brown spends most of Graffiti wondering why the rest of us haven’t simply moved on when there’s a new party up in here.
This is anthemic art rock, a sound that boldly rings like a cross between Linkin Park’s grungy emo-pop and U2’s brand of commercial rock.
I Dreamed a Dream doesn’t provide any insight into Boyle beyond what has already been widely reported in the media.
Before I Self Destruct is easily identifiable as a return to form: less commercial than it could be and better than it should.
Fall be Kind is more of the same, which wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing but for the change in tone.
Post-statutory rape scandal, post-Trapped in the Closet, R. Kelly has eased into a niche as hip-hop’s de facto crazy uncle.
Deer Tick’s More Fuel for the Fire EP plays as a crash course in modern Southern-rock revisionism.
The Puppetmastaz has sacrificed the tried and tested hip-hop formula and, as such, lost their bite.
Without a doubt, Blakroc can be considered a gamble that has most certainly paid off.
All or Nothing is stuck in the missionary position.
With just a few exceptions, it isn’t hard to hear why these tracks were relegated to B-sides.
It’s still a wonder how forceful and ferocious Tom Waits sounds live.
The album impresses all the more as the rare Idol debut to sound like the work of an actual artist with a clear sense of purpose.
What’s most puzzling and disappointing about Battle Studies is that its banality seems like a deliberate choice.
In short, Rihanna don’t feel much like dancing no more. Leave that sort of soft shoe to the defense.
This is exactly the kind of pleasant and ultimately forgettable album that most of Kris Allen’s Idol performances predicted he would make.
The album arrives stateside unburdened by any expectations for an artistic or commercial rebound.
Fame Monster does provide some small, if fleeting, glimpses behind the pretense that is Lady Gaga.
If nothing else, Echo certainly establishes Leona Lewis as a singularly gifted vocalist.