The album sees the singer-songwriter moving in a different direction.
Poor, poor Nick Lachey.
Now this is music perfectly suited to the critical chestnut “heavy as fuck.”
As Without Feathers continues, it becomes clear that the Stills still have some things to work out.
Banish the image of Jewel gyrating in gangsta duds, as Goodbye Alice in Wonderland finds the Alaskan native firmly back in more organic territory.
The Court & Spark freely bleed a peculiar type of alt-country soul, staining their songs with a dark tension and a loose, rambling feel.
The self-titled debut from Daniel Powter sounds exactly the way Maroon 5 would sound were Adam Levine not scoring so much A-list ass.
Ammunition may not be a call-to-arms, but its introspective, sturdy songcraft promises to endure.
The album’s poke-it-until-it-bleeds attitude is all good fun to a point.
The Elms perform their bar-rock with impressive conviction and admirable skill, but there’s ultimately nothing distinctive about their sound.
There’s no refuting the utter beauty of Adem’s songwriting.
So Amazin’ proves to be anything but.
While “not being phoned in” doesn’t make something great by default, it also indicates that Pearl Jam is back on track, so to speak.
Every Man For Himself is every bit the crafted material an American Idol album is.
The album is more of a blues record than a blues-rock one.
If you didn’t know who Eugene Mirman was before you experienced En Garde, Society!, you will when you’re done.
Cannibal Sea, the band’s third full-length, unfurls like a lazy afternoon peppered with involving conversation.
Swedish imports the Sounds are mired in the ’80s and don’t care who knows it.
Bring It Back finds a happy family unleashing sonic sunshine, spilling out of the speakers with unchecked abandon.
The Back Room flows like an obsidian wave from first song to last.
The only dust that should surround this breathtaking debut is that of the crowds rushing to pick this up from store shelves.