The album sees the singer-songwriter moving in a different direction.
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.
Long Island Shores is simply pretty for the sake of being pretty.
Long Trip Alone keeps the country genre in another pair of capable hands.
The only thing keeping Bleeding Heart Graffiti from being relevant is Warner Bros.’s nearly nonexistent promotion.
The Be Good Tanyas’s choices of cover tunes are fairly obvious and the album’s arrangements lack the band’s usual verve.
The emotions here are real and often outsized, but the memories themselves, like the album, are better when they get a bit fuzzy.
Beck’s latest album plays like a subdued collection of greatest hits.
Lupe Fiasco’s relentless positivism never overwhelms his casual rhymes.
Gang of Losers is a sturdy collection of barely contained alienation.
Under The Skin washes over you like a summer breeze.
It’s too inconsistent to be declared the masterpiece of which Colin Meloy and company are capable.
The masses are urged to wait for when Treasury’s best tracks are compiled on the boxed set.
Like Red on a Rose is a wholly unexpected move from an artist who seemed perfectly content with his status and already-secured legacy.
Jamie Stewart, the experimental-pop brainchild of Xiu Xiu, structures his songs like miniature horror films.
Amputechture shows a band honing their eruptive sound and bringing it into tight focus for the first time.
Perhaps the blight of the rock ‘n’ roll pioneer is to sound like one’s followers.
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.