Marilyn Manson - Antichrist Superstar

I've said it before: Manson is generally better when he's not trying to be the boogie man. So, I've not much of a proponent of Antichrist Superstar, which unabashedly baits for controversy with its title and music. At seventeen songs, it's way too long. Every song seems to be built around the same 90s industrial grind, but it lacks Nine Inch Nails' taste for atmosphere while turning the theatrics up to 11. The big hit, "The Beautiful People," is the best thing on here. The strangest thing is that, for an album that's almost entirely driven by aggressive guitars, nothing sounds as heavy as it should, which lessens the impact. Manson got better over his next few releases.

Metallica - Metallica (The Black Album)

Probably realizing that "faster and more complex!" as a mission statement for every album is a cul-de-sac, Metallica chose to slow things down significantly for their self-titled album. It has more of their biggest hits than any of their other albums, with "Enter Sandman," "Sad But True," "The Unforgiven," "Nothing Else Matters" peppered throughout the tracklist. It also has some duds, though: "Holier Than Though" is a bit on the nose, and "Don't Tread On Me" is more slogan than song. It's not that the hits are the only good things on here ("My Friend of Misery" is excellent), but here's my theory: by scaling down their sound, Metallica made shorter songs. So, to fill up an album, they had to make more songs. So more of their songs felt forgettable. So the overall quality of Metallica dipped.

Morrissey - Years of Refusal

In this decade, Morrissey's settled into a relatively predictable pattern. His solo albums build on his considerable strengths: a deep and affecting baritone, a wit for poignant lyrics, and, above all, a taste for the theatrical (which generally translates to gloriously overblown hooks). Years of Refusal closes Morrissey's decade in the same way, generally favoring his harder guitar approach and layering some light strings ("That's How People Grow Up") and new elements (Latin-sounding horns on "When Last I Spoke to Carol") over that. Highlights: "That's How People Grow Up," "Throwing My Arms Around Paris," "Something is Squeezing My Skull," "It's Not Your Birthday Anymore." He's still got a knack for being a compelling sad sack, and he never dips into the bluntness of its predecessor (2006's Ringleader of the Tormenters). In short, this one's a winner.

Taking a break...

Will be taking a break from blogging for awhile... Just tired of keeping track of things this way.

Bob Dylan - Another Side of Bob Dylan

This is my favorite acoustic Dylan album. Focusing less explicitly on politics compared to its predecessor, he's at a new songwriting peak here. Songs like "To Ramona" and "My Back Pages" are slow ballads rich with lyrical detail."All I Really Want to Do" is a playful ditty that reverses romantic pop songs, and "Motorpsycho Nightmare" is a hilarious, surreal talking blues song. Much like the early Beatles albums, Dylan's early period sometimes gets relatively (stress: relatively) overlooked compared to the years after he went electric, but he had the presence and gravitas as a songwriter and especially as a vocalist to pull off an album alone. if there's one criticism I have, it's that "Chimes of Freedom" always sounded a bit like a re-write of "The Times They Are A-Changin'." But overall, this is one of the definitive Dylan albums, right down to many of the songs eventually turning up in cover versions by The Byrds.

Meat Loaf - Bat Out of Hell

An overblown, amazing classic. Meat Loaf has a voice big enough to carry these songs convincingly, whether they're power ballads ("Two Out of Three Ain't Bad") or rocking odes to teenage sexuality ("Paradise By the Dashboard Light"). Everything here works precisely because it's so big and dumb. Take the title track, for instance. At the six minute mark, there's a false fade-out that leaves me thinking "I could go for more of this song" - but AH! There's another three whole minutes of rocking out. And like I said, it's all grandiose moments in the teenage identity - those moments when the big dumb this shit is the most important stuff in the world.

Angie Aparo - Out of the Everywhere

Angie Aparo, Atlanta-based singer-songwriter, has a deeply compelling voice. It soars at the high notes instead pf pinching. His songwriting isn't memorable lyrically, but the album is deeply affecting for his vocals, which stand out. The settings are basically unadorned, acoustic guitar and singer-style. He doesn't quite have the gift for hooks that eventually would get him noticed by Faith Hill, but this is probably the best distillation of his talents in his discography.

Jon Brion - Meaningless

Jon Brion has made his name on his distinct orchestrated pop productions (Kanye West, Fiona Apple, Rhett Miller, the score for Punch Drunk Love), so it's no surprise that he isn't the most compelling singer in the world. Meaningless presents a gorgeous low-budget version of his sound. It's all very laid-back, with his thin voice sounding a bit haunting. It closes with an unexpected cover of Cheap Trick's "Voices," which upon listening to the album again, re contextualizes the preceding songs. After all, this is pop, but it's also rock. It's not heavy, but it's a beautiful and spacey kind of carnival music worthy of the experimentation of the psychedelic era.

The Hold Steady - A Positive Rage

As previously mentioned, The Hold Steady are a great band. Having seen them live, they're a great live band, but this is not a great live album. It's not bad, but their loose playing comes off better in person rather than on CD. It sounds like a fun show, and it draws headily from Boys and Girls in America, previewing "Lord I'm Discouraged" and "Ask Her for Adderall" from the then-unreleased Stay Positive and featuring two non-LP tracks: "You Gotta Dance (With Who You Came With)" and "Girls Like Status." The old songs come off relatively well, but they lack the focus of the studio versions.

Paul McCartney - Driving Rain

This might be awful to say, but some of the best music from McCartney's (solo) career has come after the death of Linda McCartney in 1998. It has given his music more of an emotional center, which can sometimes be missing from the projects with Wings. The first two songs seem to address these emotions head on: "Lonely Road" and "From a Lover to a Friend." Each are simple returns to roots, with the former being a straight-ahead rocker and the latter being a lovely ballad. Both feel like songs that could have been written in the beginning of his solo career. Given that McCartney's greatest strength is his melodies, the greatest effect the album has is that it reclaims his strengths. Those first two tracks are knockouts, while "Driving Rain" sounds like something that would've happened if the Beatles had been together to this day. The closing track, though, "Rinse in the Raindrops," echoes the kind of long, multi-part songs that McCartney's favored in the most ambitious parts of his career and might be the best thing here. The worst is "Freedom," a hastily written 9/11 tribute song. So simple, grating and bone-headed, it spoils the greatness of everything before it.

Stevie Wonder - Songs in the Key of Life

Bloated, yes, but more Stevie Wonder is nearly never a bad thing. Looking back at it about 20 years later, it's helped by the fact that some recognizable hip hop has re-purposed and/or ripped off songs from here, with "Pastime Paradise" providing the backbone for Coolio's "Gangster's Paradise" and "I Wish" becoming (...*sigh*...) Will Smith's "Wild Wild West," proving if nothing else the durability of Wonder's compositions. Elsewhere, "Love's in Need of Love Today" is heart-warming and stunning opening song, a seven minute wonder of sheer bliss, and it's impossible to listen to "Sir Duke" and be unhappy. Try it. Impossible. And that's just the first LP. Side three has the hit "Isn't She Lovely?," featuring some of the best harmonica playing in Wonder's long career of excellent harmonica playing. If the second LP features some songs that are overlong ("Black Man" is a bit ham-fisted and overlong), the EP attached to the original album (tacked onto the end of disc 2 of the CD) has some brief but wonderful songs to make up for it.

AC/DC - Back in Black

I always preferred Bon Scott as AC/DC's lead singer. The man had a wit that made their kind of sex-obsession fun, even if it's always aggressively stupid. With him gone, AC/DC seemed to lose songs like "Whole Lotta Rosie" or "The Jack," which walk the "fine line between clever and stupid." That said, Back in Black is one of the top three AC/DC albums, no doubt, but the filler takes it down. "Let Me Put My Love Into You" barely counts as a single entendre, let alone a double, and "Givin' the Dog a Bone" isn't much better. The singles (the title track, "You Shook Me All Night Long," "Shoot to Thrill," etc.) are tremendous accomplishments in the realms of riffage and cock rock, though.

Amy Winehouse - Frank

On the album after this one, Amy Winehouse the personality would overcome Amy Winehouse the musician. In short, there's nothing as audacious as "Rehab" or "I'm No Good" here. Frank relies more on a neo-jazzy sound, leading to a very mellow album full of torch songs. Winehouse is in good voice, though. The songs have a very classicist bent, sonically, though something like "Fuck Me Pumps" obviously have modern sensibilities attached. There's a vague, subtle reggae undertone to some of this, too, which gives the rhythm a bit of a lilt. It's a strong debut that would be improved upon with its followup.

David Bowie - Lodger

Bowie takes on world music, at least on the first side. "African Night Flight" and "Yassassin (Turkish for Long Live)" seem to pillage a bit from the music of their titular countries. Of Bowie's "Berlin" trilogy, with Brian Eno, this is easily the loosest. It explores dance music in a way that foreshadows many of the best Bowie songs of the 80s. When compared to Low or Heroes, or even early triumphs like Hunky Dory, it's a minor album, but Bowie seemingly having some fun and being playful is notable in and of itself. He also still has a strong grasp on hooks and song structures. One of the strongest of his pop-centric albums.

Method Man & Redman - Blackout! 2

Delivers exactly what you'd expect. Some pot references, lots of great battle raps, well-chosen party beats. Meth has been on a winning streak since Wu-Tang Clan's last album, 8 Diagrams. His chemistry with Red is unparalleled, and it seems that hearing the two rap never gets old. "Mrs. International" is a fine R&B rap, while "Errbody Scream" is a great rave-up. Surprisingly, Redman squeezes a Christopher Reeve reference that doesn't feel like a labored cry for attention (eat it, Eminem) on "Dangerous Emcees" ("But I'm naughty like Tommy Boy Go back like Atari cords, still here, shit Superman ended up in a wheelchair"). It's those moments that make or break the experience, since this album's not all that different in tone or content than the original Blackout!.

Collective Soul - Afterwords

Collective Soul's a tough band to critique because they're consistent, arguably into redundancy. Their brand of slick radio-friendly 90s rock doesn't vary all that much from album to album - some fast songs, some slow songs, everything following the same sonic blueprint. Ed Roland's voice is a beautiful kind of baritone that sells the big choruses in a fantastically tuneful way. It's hard to even tell when they're on autopilot! Afterwords features all of these elements in a mix that's pleasant but unremarkable. It peaks in the middle: "Good Morning After All" and "Hollywood" are the best songs here. The rest: if you like Collective Soul, you'll like the rest. Their not the kind of band out to change people's minds, it seems.

Emmylou Harris - Wrecking Ball

Emmylou Harris is a legend with a gorgeous voice, an angelic whisper that is ethereal when coupled with Daniel Lanois' atmospheric productions. I'm not always hot for Lanois' work, which can occasionally come of as bland ambiance. Harris is a spectacular collaborator for him, though, as the otherworldly qualities of her voice embrace the ambiance rather than fight with it (as his Bob Dylan collaborations would later do), somehow making them more human. The versions of "Goodbye" (Steve Earle) and "Every Grain of Sand" (Bob Dylan) here are definitive. Her versions of Hendrix' "May This Be Love" and Lucinda Williams' "Sweet Old World" are also excellent, but it's the title track that is as catchy and beautiful as it is haunting.

Johnnie Taylor - Live at the Summit Club

Johnnie Taylor's live set is more song-based than Solomon Burke's Live at the House of Blues (I hate to compare, but I did just listen to each back-to-back). It's also more band-based, a funky blend that gives Taylor a perfect sound to back his gruff, raspy voice. Taylor plows through a high-powered set that should be satisfying to soul aficionados, whether it's the funky "Who's Making Love" or the blues-ballad "Little Bird." The closer, "Jodie's Got Your Girl and Gone" is a fantastic mix of howls, chanted backing vocals and wild playing by his band's horn section.

Gorillaz - Gorillaz

Damon Albarn and Dan the Automator's project sounds like something that would be halfway between their musical sensibilities. It has the tempered, subtle pop of last-period Blur, but with the hip-hop and electronic elements that construct Dan the Automator's resume. It seems that the Gorrilaz avatars have given Albarn the freedom to explore a varied field of sounds, but thankfully it comes together as a cohesive set of music. The result is an album that is a grower, but full of diverse songs that catch the ear, whether it's the dub track "Slow Country," the British hip-hop of "Clint Eastwood," or the punkish, well, "Punk." There are hooks everywhere on this album, but it rides along a slow tempo from track to track, which can feel tiresome due to the length, no matter how great all of these songs are.

Best of 00s: Those first three Hold Steady albums

From 2004 to 2006, The Hold Steady put out three of the best albums this decade. If I was to make a top 25 list, all three would be on there. If I were to do a top 50, a fourth (Stay Positive, 2008) might land right at number 50. Simply put, they were one of the best bands this decade, melding their Springsteen-infatuated style with the gung-ho attitude of a bar band (and I mean all those things as a compliment). While staying true to their core sound, they evolved from a brash brand of hard rock with poetry to Springsteen for the bookish indie crowd.

In 2004, The Hold Steady Almost Killed Me came out with little to no fanfare. The album holds up, though, as their best guitar album. Fills and riffs sear and stomp on "The Swish," the second track. Frontman Craig Finn is in full form, lyrics dense with allusions and their own internal logic "She said my name is Rick Danko but people call me one-hour photo... She said my name is Robbie Robertson but people call me robo/I blew red white and blue right into a tissue/I came right over the counter just to kiss you." It's hard to discuss the band without quoting lyrics - one of the things that sets them apart is Finn. His lyrics on this album set a standard for the band in terms of detail, and his half-sung drawl is one of their most recognizable noises. But that's not to say the band doesn't tear it up elsewhere - the coda for "Most People are DJs" rips something fierce, too.

But Almost Killed Me would be a prelude, seemingly limited compared to their followup; Separation Sunday suffers no kind of sophomore slump. While the former is mostly a party record, about parties and their hollow good times ("Killer parties almost killed me," goes a lyric towards the end of it), Separation Sunday fully establishes Finn's voice as a songwriter and marks a shift in their sonic makeup. Organ, courtesy of Franz Nicolay from here out would be increasingly dominant, but their second album finds the best balance between organs and guitars. It's a concept album, but in the sense that Dark Side of the Moon is a concept album: there's a story, but not at the expense of songs.

It traces the story of a girl named Holly, whose downfall into a dirty world ends with a spiritual awakening. The band sings from a distinctly Christian perspective without being preachy. The characters are full of doubt and contradictions. But more than that, Separation Sunday marks the moment that The Hold Steady's discography has its own mythology. Ybor City: the scene of the hardest parties. Holly: The hoodrat with a Christian kind of conflict. Charlemagne: a pimp. The characters continue to appear on the next album (but not as frequently) and were present on the last. It creates a thematic consistency that becomes its own language.

When it comes to judging which of the band's albums are the best, it's either their second or their third. Boys and Girls in America ditches a full concept, but is thematically centered on, well, boys and girls in America. Its thesis is laid out from the start: "Boys and girls in America have such a sad time together." Or: "Sucking off each other at the demonstrations/Making sure their makeup's straight/Crushing one another with collosal expectations/Dependent, undisciplined, sleeping late." The key is that the music's nearly always rowdy (exceptions: "Last Night," "Citrus"). The organs are expanded. A glockenspiel sweeps the intro of "Stuck Between Stations" into a grandiose statement of purpose. "Citrus" marks the first acoustic song the band had done to that point. While the band gets more diverse, Finn's songwriting becomes more structured. No less nuanced, his words finally seem to fit into the context of hooks and melodies.

If pressed, only The Drive-By Truckers could run with The Hold Steady as the best band of the 00s. I think I may have short-changed the music here, but it's a muscular kind of torrent or classicist rock that owes its richness to Springsteen, but clearly has some roots in the 80s punk scene. Like The Rolling Stones in the 60s, they don't do anything revolutionary - they just do it better.

Johnny Cash - My Mother's Hymn Book

Johnny Cash's voice easily qualifies for the adjectives "authoritative" and "compelling." Country music itself has its roots in hymns. So when the two combine, it's a pretty thrilling listen. Cut around the time of Cash's American series of albums, My Mother's Hymn Book is exactly as its title says. Unadorned - just Cash and his guitar, these songs feel personal in ways that few albums can capture, let alone one not written by its performer. "I'll Fly Away" is joyful in ways that Cash's music sometimes avoided after the success of American Recordings, and many of these songs are a breath of fresh air. Meanwhile, "I Am a Pilgrim" sounds like something recorded in a private moment, such is its intimacy. Cash was never an  album artist - just about anyone who started on Sun Records wouldn't be. But among his handful of consistently strong studio albums, this would rank near the top.

Solomon Burke - Live at the House of Blues

Part preacher, part singer. Burke's baritone voice commands attention, whether he's giving relationship advice ("Don't beat her - drop the "b" and LOVE") in his many spoken interludes throughout this live album. It's a compelling listen, but not a starting point for a neophyte. Burke's force of personality is capable of bringing down the house, but it's a bit overlong for those not familiar with his work. For those who are into Burke's brand of gospel-charged soul music, his enthusiasm is contagious.

Passion Pit - Manners

Oh, dance-rock. So much fun, and yet, not all that great at setting itself apart sometimes. Passion Pit rides closer to the "rock" side than the dance side (compared to, say, last year's dash of dance-rock awesome, Cut Copy), but the synths and nimble drumming keep things perky, even if the lyrics say "Oh it's painful kneading/Yes, I lie and I wrangle with prospective angles" ("Make Light"). Singer/Songwriter Michael Angelakos has an impressive voice, especially because it's a high falsetto. While writing this review, I checked both Allmusic and Wikipedia to check who's the woman singing on here. There is no woman. Just Mr. Angelakos singing in a really high range. Melodically, each song is tightly constructed but sounds busy - synths whine or cascade in the forefront. Drums skitter or stomp where appropriate. Guitars enter when welcome. The lyrics veer into emo territory dependably, but if more emo bands sounded like a neon disco, people wouldn't deride the genre so much.

The Kinks - Muswell Hillbillies

The Kinks take on America by imitating Americana - sort of. They still sound like The Kinks, but with more piano and twangy guitars. It's an itneresting change, and it's effective in spurts. Opener "20th Century Man" is one of their best songs, and it sets the tone for Ray Davies' latest slant on alienation. "Uncle Son" is an effective blues ballad, and "Alcohol" sloshes and sways like a drunken song should. The country-rock makeover fits The Kinks, though, making them a looser band than in their orchestrated pop days. While those days ultimately resulted in better music, Muskwell Hillbillies is still one of their best albums.

Elvis Costello - Secret, Profane and Sugarcane

Last time Elvis Costello collaborated with T-Bone Burnett on an album, it was King of America, one of his best. This one is not. It's a relaxed, sweetly acoustic-based album that leans too heavily on those traits. It comes off as a friendly gathering of musicians playing.  Yet the atmosphere works against it. By being a ramshackle collection of old and new songs ("Complicated Shadows" and "Hidden Shame" were previously released Costello songs, four others were previously composed for a play that was never finished), it feels inconsistent. "Complicated Shadows" is exactly what one would expect of an acoustic version, for example. I do like "She Was No Good," though, despite a staged-feeling kind of rowdiness. "Sulphur to Sugarcane" is probably the most memorable thing on here. Much like Dylan's new album this year, it's not a work that shoots for the stars, so when it comes up short, it's not horrible.

Spoon - Girls Can Tell

Spoon has made its name on a very rhythmic, atmospheric kind of indie rock that coolly slithers rather than dances. It's in the sinister noir of "This Book is a Movie" or "Chicago at Night," the two closing tracks on this album. It's in the stuttering beat and "ba ba ba"'s of opener "Believing is Art." But it's undeniable that they have a way around a hook. These songs are infectious, tense and tightly-wound, though "Take the Fifth" proves that Spoon can let loose, too. It's the catchiest song on here, and while listening to too many Spoon albums can make you wish they'd learn some new tricks, on its own, Girls Can Tell is a major accomplishment.

Andrew WK - I Get Wet

If you're not down with Andrew WK, you might be overthinking things. I once said for blink-182 that "gusto goes a long way," and Andrew WK is the living embodiment of gusto. Sure, I could delve into how "Party Hard" has a chorus that blows the doors down, enters your brain and starts headbanging and partying. Or I could mention how the keyboards throughout I Get Wet are so insistent they're infectious in and of themselves. Or that Andrew WK is so positive and so life-affirming that it would make me feel bad to criticize the music as being shallow. It is, but it's without the sexism and mean-spiritedness of, say, your standard Kid Rock or Motley Crue track.

Todd Rundgren - A Wizard, a True Star

You know what an acid trip sounds like? I wouldn't know for sure, but I would guess this album. Not very song-based, but much more like a soundscape where there are no rules, Rundgren followed his pop masterpiece Something/Anything with this. Some tracks are bursts of seemingly random sound effects and tape noises. Sometimes, it seems like a joke, like on "Dogfight giggle." Sometimes it is a joke, such as "Rock and Roll Pussy." It's noise-art at its finest, though, abstract enough to draw you in for the sheer "wtf" factor before it wallops you with the same great pop songwriting of its predecessor. While most of side one is tape experiment weirdness, it does contain "Just Another Onionhead; da da Dali" and "International Feel," songs that challenge you to get them out of your head. The second side is a bit more conventional, but the jerky rhythms of "Does Anybody Love You?" remind you that it's only relative. I'd rate this a masterpiece, though, in the same way that Radiohead's Kid A is a masterpiece. Is it willfully weird for the sake of being weird? Probably, but it's performed by a master capable of pulling off this kind of weirdness in a compelling fashion.

Robert Randolph & The Family Band - Unclassified

"Curse those handsome devils!" Bart Simpson once said. Listening to this album, I can't help but echo the sentiment, except I direct it towards James Brown, Sly Stone, George Clinton and Prince. Those four artists are arguably the faces that would make it to a Mount Funkmore, guys with personalities so big that no five minute single can contain them. So when someone like Robert Randolph comes along, sometimes it can't help but feel flat. Randolph is an absolutely incredibly Pedal Steel player; his lead lines on this album are absolutely electrifying. And yet, it feels undistinguished. No matter how loose and fun it is, Unclassified never feels quite as great as the playing is. It is passionate, though, with the single "I Need More Love" being a classic rave-up. "Soul Refreshing" is a lovely burst of melody. There is one thing they do better than the masters, though: they have a better sense of songcraft. This isn't funk driven by 20-minute jams; these are songs, none longer than five minutes. Maybe that's enough to set them apart.

Aerosmith - Rock in a Hard Place

This shit borders on unlistenable. And "shit" is the best way to put it. Nothing is memorable on here after it plays. Steven Tyler's voice is a nasty mess. He tries to hit the high notes on the first section of "Joanie's Butterfly" and misses. I will give them points, though - "Joanie's Butterfly" ranks somewhere given that it's one of the few Aerosmith songs that has multiple sections "Cry Me a River" tries to stomp but kind of slogs. The whole mix sounds muddy, and Jimmy Crespo and Rick Dufay (replacing Brad Whitford and Joe Perry) don't have the kind of chemistry that makes Aerosmith great.

Beck - One Foot in the Grave (2009 Expanded Edition)

In Beck's oeuvre, this one ranks pretty minor. A suspect part of the reason this was released at all was to not pigeon-hole the guy as some kind of postmodern slack-rock enthusiast (it was released around the same time as his debut, Mellow Gold and the lo-fi freakout Stereopathetic Soul Manure). It's a pleasant listen, though. Most of it is acoustic guitar-driven (aside from bursts of distortion on "Burnt Orange Peel"). Songs like "Outcome," "Asshole" and "Sleeping Bag" point the way towards the softer side of Beck's future on Mutations and Sea Change. As with those efforts, the hipster ironic kind of humor Beck employs on Mellow Gold is missing, but what's left is the melodic foundation that forms the backbone of his musical identity.

The Smiths - Meat is Murder

Of the Smiths' four proper studio albums, this one is the worst. "This Joke Isn't Funny Anymore" and "Barbarism" are highlights, though, matching the material from their debut. "How Soon Is Now?" is probably the best song here, but it wasn't even included until the CD print. Nothing here is as bracing as anything from The Smiths, nor as flamboyant as The Queen is Dead. A sophomore slump.

Cannibal Ox - The Cold Vein

Another El-P production, this time with rappers Vast Aire and Vordul Megilah. Strangely, it's not as abrasive as El-P's productions for Company Flow or his own work, featuring a sparse futuristic kind of shine that's as subtle as any of his heavier stuff. Synths drive the sounds here, adding a melodic touch to the album's sound. As for the rapping, Vast Aire and Vordul Megilah are both smooth rappers with a more stream of consciousness bent than others (read: some of it doesn't make much sense), and some of it is brilliant, such as on "F-Word" and "Battle for Asgard." Plus, there's some honest-to-God DJ scratching on some of these tracks. How often do we get that on hip hop albums these days? It's a dense album that asks for multiple listens, and I'm still processing it. There's a lot to love here, though.

Rhett Miller - Rhett Miller

Took me awhile, but I'll concede that this is his best solo album. Maybe not by far - I'm still really partial to The Believer - but its consistency has won me over. Without looking for a big song like his previous efforts' "Our Love" or "My Valentine," he's crafted an album that's quietly pleasing without being bombastic. That doesn't mean it lacks fast songs: "Happy Birthday Don't Die" rocks hard smack in the middle like a T. Rex song. The bulk of the album is quiet moments of simple pleasure, whether it's the gentle high note Miller hits on the word "says" in the phrase "Nobody says 'I love you' anymore" or the quiet backing vocals on "Like Love" (notice a pattern here?). Nothing here hits quite as hard as the aforementioned songs or "Firefly" (or The Old 97's, for that matter), but Miller's album would be perfect with a beer on an autumn afternoon.

Black Sabbath - Master of Reality

This has always surprised me: in parody and sometimes in practice, metal is sometimes painted as satan-worshiping and demented. Black Sabbath, by most accounts, are the roots of modern metal. Yet on this album, Sabbath have a strangely Christian perspective on the world. While "Lord of the World" takes the perspective of Satan, the song's message is clear (choose "love" instead!). The riffs, as always with Sabbath, provide a strong, devastating backbone. This time, they're punctuated with some sweetly acoustic pieces ("Embryo" and "Orchid"), which show Tony Iommi's skills at doing things other than riffs filled with dread. And, of course, Ozzy on these albums is unmatched for his frail brand of haunted wailing.

Who critiques the critics?

Interview with Harry Owings about the pitfalls of the blogoverse. That's a word, right? I can use it? For the record, I have no industry connections and wind up reviewing albums I own. That's why there are no ratings... cuz very few things would get an F.

LA Times: The sorry state of Music Criticism

Related: The interview is conducted by Christopher R. Weingarten, who's reviewing 1,000 albums on Twitter.

Chris Weingarten's twitter

TruTV: The Life and Tragic Death of Motown's Marvin Gaye

I got the Marvin Gaye box set The Master (1961-984) this weekend, and I'll be listening to that today. And while it's true that he was one of the most brilliant and versatile singers on Motown's roster, the man had some demons in the closet. Sometimes this stuff can get lost as a superstar dies young and is sainted (*cough*Michael*cough*johnlennon*cough*cough*). This one is a long read, but it's pretty fascinating to those interested.

TruTv: The Life and Tragic Death of Motown's Marvin Gaye

50 Cent - Get Rich or Die Tryin'

One of the most hyped hip-hop debuts ever, and what were we to expect? The second coming of Snoop Dogg? In a sense, the comparison is apt. The Dr. Dre brand of gangsta rap can sometimes be steeped in talking lots and saying not much. On this album, though, 50 Cent isn't quite the test audience-neutered version we know now. He's still streamlined by the standards of gangsta rap (I mean, compared to Ice Cube... not compared to Snoop Dogg of the 00s), but he's determined. He's slightly gritty, and his lyrics alternate between clever boasts and witty jokes. He hangs with Eminem on two tracks, and while 50's rhymes aren't quite as inventive or rapid, he shows that he has enough charisma to keep him afloat. As for the beats, if Only Built 4 Cuban Lynx recalls The Godfather, consider Get Rich... to be Heat: more 'splodey, less meaty, still good. It's surprisingly varied, too, with the strings backing "In Da Club" seeming at peace with the steel drums on "P.I.M.P." It's shallow, sure, but Get Rich of Die Tryin' is the sound of 50 Cent mining gold from a shallow river.

Stacie Orrico - Stacie Orrico

Released in 2003, Stacie Orrico's major label debut now sounds quaint, due to a reliance on then-state-of-the-art productions. "Hesitation" apes moves from *NSYNC's last album, while the rest of the album sounds exactly like you'd expect pop music from 2003 to sound like. But Orrico's got a strong voice as a singer and emerges as a songwriter with potential. The hits, "Stuck On You" and "More to Life" are the best songs if you're into this sort of thing (which I am). Unfortunately, Orrico's roots as a Christian singer tend to give the whole enterprise a sleek feel, lacking tension or danger. It could be argued that Justin Timberlake's come-ons always feel forced, though, so it's somewhat refreshing that Orrico avoided at least that bit of teen popstar awkwardness. I just wish "That's What Love Is For" wasn't as corny as its title.

Nine Inch Nails - With Teeth

Nine Inch Nails, when more song-oriented than The Fragile or Ghosts, is an awesome proposition. Trent Reznor's most underrated skill is his devotion to songcraft, so With Teeth ranks as a success, easily. Maybe the songs aren't as passionate as those on his followup (Year Zero), and the production isn't as bracing as The Downward Spiral. Some of these songs ("All the Love in the World," "The Hand that Feeds," "Every Day Is Exactly the Same") are his best since The Downward Spiral. None of them are quite "Closer," but what is? With Teeth marks the end of Nine Inch Nails' music to brood to period, which took up their time during the 90s. Meet Nine Inch Nails of the 00s: noise rock arena stars.

No Doubt - Tragic Kingdom

No Doubt's breakthrough doesn't age all that well. I was late on the bandwagon, so I'm more of a Return of Saturn and Rock Steady man, myself. Here's an album with a reasonable amount of filler and some key tracks, the best of which are the hits. Aside from those songs (which I won't even name. You know them.), the best are the title track and "Happy Now." The rest is the sound of a band having fun, but that never necessarily meant that you're having fun, too. I remember a conversation I had in high school, about No Doubt, around the end of Eve/Gwen Stefani's hit and when "Hey Baby" and "Hella Good" were starting to gain some footing on the radio. A friend asked, "Can we at least agree that Gwen Stefani ruined them [by making them more of a pop outfit]?" I replied, "No, I kinda like Rock Steady," to which he said "Ah, sorry. I have really good memories of Tragic Kingdom." I think that sums it up.

Best of the 00s: Eminem - The Marshall Mathers LP

If this isn't a top 10 contender for the best hip-hop album of the decade, I don't know what is. At the point this album was created, Eminem had everything balanced perfectly: the beats by Dre, his flow was up to par, and he wasn't quite as over-exposed, making his shtick seem less self-involved (even if it was). The trick here is that he never draws a line between what's real and fake. After a brief intro, "Kill You" opens the album on a clearly hypothetical perspective, but the second song, "Stan," sounds so plausible and self-reflective, it seems genuine. The Marshall Mathers LP slings back and forth like this, so that by the time the domestic violence-cum-murder fantasy "Kim" rolls around, you can't say for sure if he plans to murder his wife. His flow is unstoppable: he slows it, rapping through gritted teeth on "The Way I Am," turns it into both sides of a nearly-natural-sounding conversation on "Kim" and speeds it up on parts of "The Real Slim Shady."

In the time that's passed since, Eminem's two followups have been nearly nakedly self-reflective and autobiographical, exploring the effects of fame on his life. Was he clowning when he put out his actual autobiography awhile back? Haven't his albums covered his long past, recent past and present already? All over the album, he raps about his mom, drug abuse, is wife, his kid, the price of fame, and harasses pop stars of the day. The act would get worn over the course of the decade, eventually resulting in the too-literal Encore and over-corrective steering that was Relapse, but for one album, Slim Shady, Eminem and Marshall Mathers balanced delicately to make a masterpiece.

Pulp - Different Class

One of the best albums of the Britpop era. Maybe the best. Maybe my favorite album of the 90s, too. The dance-ready synthesizers tart up some truly threatening sexual and social tensions ("Pencil Skirt," "I Spy"). And that's when the band is not blasting doors down with anthems ("Mis-shapes," "Disco 2000," and the immortal "Common People"). It's easily the most consistent set of songs Pulp's ever gotten out in one go. Jarvis Cocker (singer) is fully formed as a songwriter here, with the wit and subtlety to write "I took her to a supermarket/I don't know why, but it had to start somewhere/So it started there" and the sense to sing it with matter-of-factness followed by wonder followed by a determined kind of finality. It's in these little moments of subtlety that make Pulp a lovable band. It's what makes a song like "Underwear" simultaneously sexy, depressing and menacing.

The Pains of Being Pure at Heart - The Pains of Being Pure At Heart

Judging solely from their debut album, The Pains of Being Pure At Heart have part of the equation right. Their sound is distinctive. It's derivative, or course, of My Bloody Valentine, The Jesus and Mary Chain and a few other bands, but it's punched up with a certain amount of spunk that sets them apart. The lyrics pile on the melancholy with a love of the tabboo ("This Love is Fucking Yeah!" and its incestuous insinuations), but sonically the band is punkish with reverb in the back to add a foundation. It's not particularly inventive, but it's incredibly catchy. Also, it gives the rock critics a chance to show their knowledge of 80s and 90s underground scenes and bands, which I'm pretty sure accounts for some of the high ratings this album gets. Not that I dislike it - the hooks are there and will latch onto your very soul - but I see more potential here than execution.

Modest Mouse - The Lonesome Crowded West

Years before "Float On," Modest Mouse where already putting out great guitar-driven rock music. Later, they would adopt Johnny Marr (of The Smiths) as one of their own, but this album exists as proof that they didn't need him. Loose, angular guitars parade through this release, while Isaac Brock's recognizable yelp takes a back seat compared to the band's later years. "Lounge (Closing Time)" forms the core of the album, a 7-minute jam that shifts its tone in several ways before quietly coming to a rest. "Doin' the Cockroach" plain rocks out, with Brock coming unhinged vocally, to a great effect. Nothing here is as catchy as "Float On," but that song is the outlier for which the band is best-known. The rest of the time, the serve up excellent, quirky guitar rock.

John Legend - Once Again

Legend's pop R&B style is smooth enough that his music is almost uniformly pleasant, but a lot of it can barely rise above background music. His sophomore album opens with a one-two punch of "Heaven" and "Stereo," but by the end, it mires itself in slow songs that barely distinguish each other. I'm going to point out "Again" as the spot where things turn sour: backed only by his own piano, it's a 5-minute ballad that's passionate without being particularly moving or pointed. From there, highlights fail to materialize for the rest of it. It makes for pleasant background music, but not much else. I will say that "P.D.A. (We Just Don't Care)" has enough swagger to be a memorable cut away from Once Again.

The Streets - A Grand Don't Come for Free

The Streets might be a great illustration that hip hop is not necessarily rap and vice-versa. Mike Skinner's music barely even fits into "rap," really, with a kind of drawl-ish delivery only coincidentally seems to sync with the beat. But it's in his relaxed delivery that his detailed narrative finds their heart. Few have captured the kind of middle class ennui present here, where returning a DVD and calling your mother can be such an inconvenience that, well, a song results from it. It's a concept album, but it's one of the rare ones where not a song is wasted on moving the plot forward. The beauty of the concept is its simplicity (guy loses money, must get it back). It recalls silent comedies by Chaplin in the sense that the plot is just window-dressing for a bunch of tangential skits that, maybe, don't add up to a complete sum but on their own are great entertainments.

Wilco - Kicking Television: Live in Chicago

Rarely, you can sum up a live album by what songs appear from what albums. Wilco, however, is a band that lives by its albums; each has such a unique sound, sometimes it's hard to bring the picture together. So really, a live album is perfect for them, highlighting how they're really the same band despite lineup changes and a diverse set of styles. In this case, A Ghost Is Born is improved. "Heavy Metal Drummer" is looser, and "The Late Greats" is in a context where it doesn't sound like a throwaway at the end of a long album. Yankee Hotel Foxtrot seems less like an aberration to their general sound when placed next to Summerteeth and Being There songs. "I Am Trying to Break Your Heart" sounds natural coming between "Handshake Drugs" and "Shot in the Arm." Summerteeth mixes effortlessly with the aforementioned albums, and the songs chosen from the more roots rock-driven Being There unexpectedly feel at home. Their debut, 3AM was not invited, but a couple songs from their Mermaid Avenue project complete the picture. Until a "Greatest Hits" set is compiled for them (and maybe even after that), Kicking Television works best as a summary of where Wilco were in 2005.

The Cure - Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me

The Cure's greatest gift is texture. They manage to give their core sound - that familiar, brooding kind of rock - various textures that carry them through their occasional double album. "The Kiss" opens the album with a somewhat violent kind of distortion that leads directly into the ballad "The Catch," yet it never sounds unlike The Cure. Elsewhere, they adopt a glam-like stomp on "Why Can't I Be You?" and a sitar drenches "The Snake." There are songs driven by strings, and "Hot, Hot Hot!!!" shows that they can be kind of funky. It's not a consistently compelling set of songs, but it's an erratic double album that tries out various styles without ever abandoning that core Cure sound.

Phoenix - Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix

Seduced by "Lisztomania," a giddy pop delight, I'm not completely convinced about the rest of the album. Phoenix's sunny keyboard-driven indie pop approach works well, but when taken over the course of a full album, it gets to be a little same-sounding. Certainly, it's all lovely and dance-oriented, but is that all there is? I do love the centerpiece, "Love, Like a Sunset," parts I and II, which build slowly and cool off within their seven-minute duration. It's not quite the dance utopia created in the rest of the band's songs, which makes it interesting. Another highlight: "Rome," which pulls a similar hot-cold-hot dynamic but with the pop craftsmanship. Okay, I'm convinced.