The track is a bustling pop-rock song bolstered by a clangy guitar riff and searing synth line.
I Feel For You is a true pop touchstone.
The album is a wish-you-were-here postcard from the ’80s.
Guitar solos work for the Eagles, not three wispy-voiced Cali girls.
Ramsey’s got the pipes, but she deserves better than this rather pedestrian assemblage of songs.
That’s right, it’s Lynn’s album, so we’ll try to keep the Jack White fawning to a minimum.
Incense and polyester get stale after a while. Unless you’re Lenny Kravitz.
Despite its lack of thematic cohesion, Uh Huh Her is immensely playable.
Múm’s Summer Make Good could be a companion piece to Nicolas Roeg’s Don’t Look Now.
The album sounds as if it was indeed created long before daylight.
While the hooks here are undeniable, Avril’s lyrics are often vague or archetypical.
Katie Melua’s Call Off The Search is no musical Ovaltine.
Coldplay. There, it’s been said.
The album allows Mike Skinner to live—and relive—the minutiae of a failed relationship.
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.
The album is a musical gumbo made by a group of club kids and intended as a gift to the people of the world.
Seriously, who needs college when you can simply follow in West’s lead and become a multi-platinum powerhouse?
Odelay is very much a revolt of principle, and its songs’ messages are never clearer than in the melodies themselves.
Much of Trampin’ finds Smith calling for peace.