Talib Kweli's "Eardrum" is all about substance. It seems this conscious Brooklyn rapper is unconcerned with creating the stuff that sells ringtones, and more focused on sharing an introspective look at the day-to-day struggles of the have-nots.

Talib Kweli's "Eardrum" is all about substance. It seems this conscious Brooklyn rapper is unconcerned with creating the stuff that sells ringtones, and more focused on sharing an introspective look at the day-to-day struggles of the have-nots.

On "Eat to Live," Kweli narrates a day in the life of a little boy with "... hunger pangs in his tummy. Nothin' in the freezer. Nothin' in the fridge. Couple of forty ounces, but nothing for the kids." Before the track's end, Kweli has pointed out the nutritional value of rhymes, thereby bringing new meaning to the phrase "we got to feed the kids," which he repeats on the song's chorus.

He extols spirituality, and questions religion on "Give 'Em Hell." And he boldly confronts wack rappers and shady lawmakers, while a gospel choir delivers a powerful chorus, on "Hostile Gospel Pt. 1 (Deliver Us)."

Aside from the funky and fast-moving will.i.am-produced "Hot Thing," production on "Eardrum" is no-frills. Kweli's bars come first and foremost. On the super jazzy "In the Mood," even beats by Kanye West simply work to frame Kweli's rhyming, which varies from slow to speedy and on and off beat within in the span of a verse.

"Country Cousins" featuring UGK and Raheem DeVaughn is among the album's handful of skippable tracks. If anything, the song is a bit of a bore -- with Kweli listing off his favorite non-New York rappers from back in the day, and the Underground Kingz doing pretty much the same.

All in all, even without all the bells and whistles, Kweli arrives back on the scene with undeniably heartfelt and thought-provoking emceeing. He is, as poet Sonia Sanchez says on the album's intro, "... always punctual with his mouth."

CHECK THIS OUT: Norah Jones lends her husky vocals to the smoky sound of "Soon the New Day." "Used to use a club to hit her, drag her by the hair. Still use the club to get her a martini or a beer," says Kweli in his honest analysis of hooking up late nights.

By Melanie Sims -- Associated Press

Read full review

Close

Well, that awkward goth phase didn't last long! With all the impatience of an ADD-riddled teen rebel, Avril Lavigne ditched the gloomy façade of her sophomore "Under My Skin" and dove back into the well-scrubbed mosh pit for her third album, "The Best Damn Thing."

Well, that awkward goth phase didn't last long! With all the impatience of an ADD-riddled teen rebel, Avril Lavigne ditched the gloomy façade of her sophomore "Under My Skin" and dove back into the well-scrubbed mosh pit for her third album, "The Best Damn Thing."

Frankly, the change in pace comes as a bit of a relief. The serious Avril on "Under My Skin" never felt genuine -- the shift from the exuberance of "Sk8er Boi" to the meandering ruminations of "Don't Tell Me" and "My Happy Ending" seemed sudden and forced, a misguided attempt to prove that Lavigne was a serious songwriter.  

Here, she swears like she's just discovered profanity, cheerfully spitting out four-letter words (and their compounds) with glee. She truly believes she's the best damn thing you've ever seen, she knows it's all about her -- or, as she shouts on "I Don't Have to Try," "I wear the pants!" -- and if you don't agree, she knows you're wrong and you can go to hell (actually, she'd probably say something a lot stronger).

This sense of entitlement will surely rankle anybody who's just a little bit older than Avril's 22 years, who will also find that the perennial Lavigne complaint holds: she ain't no punk, she's a brat that any grizzled old punk will want to beat with a baseball bat. But "The Best Damn Thing" wasn't made for them, nor was it made with any sense (or even regard) for the past: it was made to exist totally in the moment, in a time when a moment speeds by faster than light. And it's as exuberant, irreverent, and exciting as any other bubblegum pop, defiantly silly and shallow, but also deliriously hooky.

True, this is far from deep, but "Under My Skin" proved that a deep Avril is a dull Avril. "The Best Damn Thing," in contrast, builds on every one of her bratty strengths, which makes for ridiculously catchy pop -- the kind of music that provides a soundtrack for teens and guilty pleasures for everyone else.

By Stephen Thomas Erlewine -- All Music Guide

Read full review

Close

Fifteen years in, Martina McBride continues to look for new challenges. With "Waking Up Laughing," the big-voiced singer produces the album by herself (as she did with her last album, "Timeless"). McBride also composes some of her own material for the first time, co-writing three songs, including the uplifting first hit, "Anyway."

Fifteen years in, Martina McBride continues to look for new challenges. With "Waking Up Laughing," the big-voiced singer produces the album by herself (as she did with her last album, "Timeless"). McBride also composes some of her own material for the first time, co-writing three songs, including the uplifting first hit, "Anyway."

What she doesn't change is her preference for songs pertinent to Middle America. Mixing stories of tragedy and struggle with those of survival and renewal, the Kansas native presents 11 songs that could serve as themes for two weeks worth of Oprah. Such real-life topics are common in country music, but like Winfrey, McBride digs deeper, avoiding cliches while providing more insight and inspiration than any of her peers.

On "Waking Up Laughing," McBride taps into a particularly potent mix of positive messages, and she matches these consistently outstanding songs with a seamless blend of acoustic instruments, gentle rhythms and soaring orchestrations that bank on subtlety and style.

She invites another contemporary country tastemaker, Keith Urban, for a duet on "Tryin' to Find a Reason," but it's only one of many highlights. Others include the social commentary of "For These Times," the won't-be-a-victim tale of "Beautiful Again," and two love songs, "I'll Still Be Me" and "Love Land." The latter two couldn't be more different in their story lines but share a belief that humans can rise above their situations to see something good and lasting in enduring life's changes.

By Michael McCall -- Associated Press

Read full review

Close

Willie Nelson, Merle Haggard and Ray Price are the Mount Rushmore of classic country music, and they earned every line in their granite faces through a half-century of honky-tonk tunes about whiskey rivers, swinging doors and city lights.

Willie Nelson, Merle Haggard and Ray Price are the Mount Rushmore of classic country music, and they earned every line in their granite faces through a half-century of honky-tonk tunes about whiskey rivers, swinging doors and city lights.

Each of them can fill a jukebox with country standards, and each keeps rolling across miles and stages as if the road goes on forever.

Nelson, 73, has recorded albums with Haggard, 69, and Price, 81. But the two-CD, 22-song "Last of the Breed" is the first to bring the three together. They sound like the legends they are, their instantly recognizable voices full-toned and expressive with grit and grace.

Amazingly, they focus on songs that pre-date even them. Drawing on the repertoires of their mutual influences, they trade lines on songs from Bob Wills ("Goin' Away Party," "My Life's Been a Pleasure"), Gene Autry ("That Silver-Haired Daddy of Mine"), Floyd Tillman ("Some Other World," "I'll Keep on Loving You") and Lefty Frizzell ("Mom and Dad's Waltz," "I Love You a Thousand Ways"). Kris Kristofferson joins them for a somber reading of his gospel favorite, "Why Me."

The ace band is anchored by Texas fiddler Johnny Gimble and steel guitar hero Buddy Emmons, and producer Fred Foster keeps the mood breezy and nostalgic, as these true American idols wink and vamp through songs they know and love. Anyone who enjoys Western swing and traditional Texas barroom tunes will love them, too.

By Michael McCall -- Associated Press

Read full review

Close

Continuing his practice of combining elements from multiple genres into something new and unique, Kevin Brereton, better known as k-os, reaches even further past his usual suspects on his third studio release, "Atlantis: Hymns for Disco." He takes staples of hip-hop, reggae and soul, but adds to them hints of rock, blues and punk.

Continuing his practice of combining elements from multiple genres into something new and unique, Kevin Brereton, better known as k-os, reaches even further past his usual suspects on his third studio release, "Atlantis: Hymns for Disco." He takes staples of hip-hop, reggae and soul, but adds to them hints of rock, blues and punk.

This ambitious use of resources and influences could very easily end up creating an album that sounded severely disjointed, even incoherent, but k-os is able to make something that, despite the diversity between tracks, works very much as a whole. This is almost all thanks to his voice, which can change from sing-songy rhymes to neo-soul to reggae to rap to pop, depending on what the song -- or the part of the song -- requires; there's a movement to the album showcasing the development of the performer and what he's capable of.

While the songs in which k-os doesn't stray from the pattern he followed on his first two albums are perfectly adequate ("Mirror in the Sky," "Cat Diesel," "Fly Paper"), they also seem a bit tired, the melodies practically interchangeable.

So it's a welcome change when k-os reaches deeper into his musical repertoire and takes a risk, coming out with something much more interesting. Despite his hesitations about actually singing (like what he does in the Sam Cooke-inspired "The Rain"), k-os in fact sounds better as a vocalist than he does as a rapper -- his flow has never been that good, and because he approaches his rhymes from a reggae standpoint, he ends up sounding more like a second-rate neo-dub preacher than he does a conscious MC -- and his ability to pull off other styles so convincingly just proves that his talents are stifled by hip-hop rules.

"Valhalla" sounds Beatles-y at first, but quickly switches into a hard rockabilly that keeps an urban beat, while "Born to Run" mixes Bloc Party, Michael Jackson, and roots reggae into something that holds its own very well. This mélange is made lighter and more fun by the fact that k-os has lost some of the righteousness that often weighed down the tracks on his previous records, as he turns his gaze on Atlantis inward ("seems I'm afraid of being afraid," he confesses on "Fly Paper"), or simply choosing to explore and describe situations regarding women and love, instead of pontificating and proselytizing.

He seems more comfortable and more sure of himself, and speaks confidently, but not arrogantly, about life, about appreciating and enjoying it and trying to understand it and its complexities. "Atlantis" steps forward while still acknowledging the past, a sign of maturation, a sign of a more complete artist who's secure in himself and the music he creates.

By Marisa Brown -- All Music Guide

Agree? Disagree? Write your own review

Read full review

Close

When Hurricane Katrina struck, Harry Connick Jr. rushed to his hometown days before the National Guard arrived, traveling around the flood-ravaged city to aid the victims and appeal for help on national TV. Connick puts these heartbreaking memories of dead bodies and neglected people to verse in his original song, "All These People" ...
Exclusive video: Harry Connick Jr. on New Orleans

When Hurricane Katrina struck, Harry Connick Jr. rushed to his hometown days before the National Guard arrived, traveling around the flood-ravaged city to aid the victims and appeal for help on national TV. Connick puts these heartbreaking memories of dead bodies and neglected people to verse in his original song, "All These People," a duet with gospel singer Kim Burrell, that provides a deeply personal centerpiece to his new vocal album, "Oh, My NOLA."

Exclusive video: Harry Connick Jr. on New Orleans

"NOLA" is one of two CDs that Connick is released simultaneously -- the other, "Chanson du Vieux Carré" is a largely instrumental jazz big band album recorded in 2003 that mixes Connick originals with his updated arrangements of such New Orleans classics as Louis Armstrong's "Someday You'll Be Sorry," Sidney Bechet's "Petite Fleur," and Professor Longhair's "Mardi Gras In New Orleans."

"Chanson" shines a spotlight on Connick's often overlooked jazz big band that boasts some scintillating ensemble playing, a powerful rhythm section, Connick's economical piano solos, and such distinctive soloists as trumpeter Leroy Jones and trombonist Lucien Barbarin, while on "NOLA," Connick the singer stirs up an appealing gumbo of jazz, gospel, r&b, country and funk on songs associated with hometown musical idols such as Armstrong ("Hello Dolly") and Raymond Myles ("Elijah Rock").

These CDs rank among the most passionate and inspired of Connick's career -- a joyous celebration of New Orleans' rich musical legacy that also seeks to ensure its future. A portion of the proceeds are being donated to the New Orleans Habitat Musicians' Village, a project launched by Connick and saxophonist Branford Marsalis to build several hundred homes for displaced musicians.

By Charles J. Gans -- Associated Press

Read full review

Close