Hole's "Nobody's Daughter" Review: A Riot Girl's Redemption

Rating: 4/5

Has there ever been a female artist more controversial and divisive than Courtney Love?

Amid multiple arrests, rehab stints, humiliating public appearances (like that infamous Pamela Anderson roast, for example) and even conspiracy theories that place the death of Kurt Cobain squarely on her shoulders, Rock’s most-(in)famous widow sparks controversy like it’s her job.

Which it is, of course. I mean, isn’t that what rock stars do? As far as that particular facet of Love’s job description goes, Courtney gets a 10,000 out of ten. But as for that other little part of her occupation—you know, the music-making part—Love’s final grade here is a bit more complicated. Live Through This, Hole’s 1994 sophomore release, is an undeniable classic of 90’s alternative rock; so good, in fact, that Love’s detractors will swear to you that Kurt actually wrote the songs. That’s probably bullshit, but it speaks directly to Courtney’s decidedly untenable position in the Hard Rock Universe; it seems like everyone loves to hate Courtney, and especially hates to like her music.

Well it’s been 16 years since that album’s release. Two somewhat lackluster releases (the glammed-up Celebrity Skin and Love’s half-baked solo disc America’s Sweetheart) and a whirlwind, near-fatal drug addiction later, Hole returns with Nobody’s Daughter, a dark and deeply personal missive that won’t convert the hostile, but irrefutably attests to Love’s position as one of the most engaging and incendiary musical personalities in the history of rock n’ roll.

Like most of Love’s previous work, the album’s content is largely of an almost-painfully personal nature, with lines like “I never wanted to be/The person who you see/Can you tell me who I am,” on the confessional “Letter to God,” sure to astonish with their austerity and candor. Love reportedly wrote many of these songs while confined to a rehab facility, and it shows; many of these songs are tortured, self-reflective, distinctly sober soliloquies from a woman who has seen and done it all. And the band doesn’t forget to have a little fun either (and by fun, I mean that dark, malevolent, Iggy Pop sort of fun); up-tempo rockers like “Skinny Little Bitch” and “Loser Dust” supply that classic venom we know, love and expect from anything associated with Courtney Love.

Love’s most emotionally-cathartic moment comes on the epic “Pacific Coast Highway,” a hard-edged acoustic number, where the battered and bruised former Riot Girl croons with a cigarette-wrecked, Patti Smith-like drawl “I’m overwrought and so disgraced/I’m too ashamed to show my face/And they’re coming to take me away now/And what I want I will never have/I’m on the Pacific Coast Highway/With your gun in my hands.” But the most outstanding moment on Nobody’s Daughter is the positively toxic “Samantha,” where Love rails against a trick-turning opportunist, sneering “Watch her wrap her legs around this world/Can’t take the gutter from the girl.” The song strikes the perfect balance between the rawness of Live Through This and the melodic pop sensibilities of Celebrity Skin. It’s classic Hole, and Courtney Love’s finest moment in over a decade.

Ultimately, the album does get bogged down by some of its slower, overly-emotional moments, but these minor missteps certainly do not cloud the bigger picture here. Nobody’s Daughter is a shockingly impressive comeback release from Rock’s most-embattled living icon.

You may not rate her too highly on your list of favorite people. But as far as effort goes, the bitch gets a ten.

Erykah Badu's "New Amerykah Part Two (Return of the Ankh)"

Rating: 4.5/5

Functioning as the ying to the spaced-out, spectacularly batshit, sonic feast of a yang that was New Amerykah Part One (4th World War), Badu’s latest complements its predecessor beautifully…

By being absolutely nothing like it, of course.

An album rife with potential standout track after potential standout track, the true gem on Erykah Badu’s brilliant New Amerykah Part Two (Return of the Ankh) is the supremely laid-back “Gone Baby, Don’t Be Long.” Lyrically recalling a persistent theme present in much of Ms. Badu’s work (i.e. reckoning with steadfast love and support for a hustlin’ boyfriend), the song’s breezy, sparse musical backdrop conjures the feeling of a lazy, summer evening on a neighbor’s front porch; seemingly structure-less yet satisfyingly relaxed, almost intoxicating.

Where Part One’s focus was planetary and conceptual, Part Two’s is stubbornly personal and organic, recalling her earlier work in its treatment of love and its many nuances. Yet unlike her earlier work, Part Two is almost just as weird as Part One, complete with strange and seemingly random effects, funny/awesome-yet-over-too-soon skits, and a consistent mixture of warm, live instrumentation with a number of obvious samples, allusions and interpolations. These qualities give the album an analog-ish, yet very mixtape-like, pastiche quality; think The Miseducation of L-Boogie-meets-De La Soul’s 3 Feet High and Rising. Return of the Ankh has a gloriously radiant, freewheeling vibe that is irresistible. From first listen, you will at least be intrigued, but by the 4th or 5th you’ll be hooked; I can guarantee it. “20 Feet Tall” and “Window Seat” start things off in gorgeous, meditative fashion, and “Fall In Love (Your Funeral)” makes perfect use of one of Biggie’s greatest lines (eat your heart out, Hov!).

And then there's the end of our journey, the 10-minute epic/psychedelic soul masterpiece “Out My Mind, Just In Time,” with its trippy, breathtaking climax at the 5-minute mark that is just pure, emotional catharsis, plain and simple.

Erykah Badu has just released another fantastic album. And taken together, New Amerykah (Parts One & Two) stands beside D’Angelo’s Voodoo and Amy Winehouse’s Back to Black as the collective gold standard for post-millennial Soul music.

Lil Wayne's Rebirth: Conceptually misguided like a motherfucker...

Rating: 1.5/5

It would be so much easier to write a review of Lil Wayne’s forever-delayed “rock album,” Rebirth, if it was possible to frame it as some sort of tangential, finished-in-a-couple-weeks side project. Unfortunately, that’s just not possible.

Like Kanye West’s brilliant 808’s & Heartbreak, Rebirth is supposed to be an artistic coup for Wayne, where he sheds any external limitations placed upon his work stylistically, and potentially shifts the landscape of popular music in the process (i.e. Hip Hop). Initially set for release almost a year ago, Rebirth has been pushed back over and over again, and like Tha Carter III, this has only served to raise the stakes on the importance of the project in relation to Lil Wayne’s body of work. In other words, Weezy really cares about how you’re going to respond to this album.

Well…I seriously doubt most people will respond well to Rebirth. But unlike 808’s & Heartbreak, that’s not because it’s a drastic change from his established sound, and perhaps a bit ahead of its time. The problem is that Rebirth is a drastic change from Wayne’s established sound, probably not ahead of its time, and conceptually misguided like a motherfucker.

I can kinda, sorta, almost halfway understand Wayne’s decision to make an album like Rebirth. In the wake of his rapid ascent to the top of the world of Hip Hop and Pop music, Wayne has been subjected to the kind of widespread idolatry usually reserved for rock stars; and thus many in the media have dubbed him Hip Hop’s first, true rock star. And I don’t argue with this assertion; his style of dress, the incessant presence of drugs in his music and public persona, his multiple run-ins with the law, and his brash, unpredictable, “badass” personality all lend themselves to the kind of outlaw status people like Axl Rose and David Lee Roth once enjoyed. Additionally (and allegedly), Wayne likes rock, so perhaps adding some live drumming, and maybe emphasizing some raw, crunching, rhythmic guitar work on the follow-up to The Carter III wouldn’t have been a bad idea. Incorporating elements of rock into your sound is one thing; making a ROCK ALBUM is quite another.

The best songs on Rebirth do exactly what I’ve just described; the Eminem-assisted “Drop The World,” is a monster, and the trippy, hard-edged “Ground Zero” perfectly captures what an ideal Lil Wayne-helmed rock album would sound like, by integrating heavy guitars and live percussion into a firmly hip hop-based form. Even the criminally-overlooked first single “On Fire” basically does it right with a great sample, searing electric guitars and catchy, clever lyrics; basically, it’s a beefed-up version of “Lollipop.” Everything else on Rebirth oscillates from the misguided and strange to the misguided and annoyingly bland and pop-oriented. “Get A Life” sounds like a failed attempt at channeling Fishbone, “The Price is Wrong” sounds like an underdeveloped and lyrically-inept attempt at Nirvana-styled, pop-oriented hardcore punk, and “Paradice” and “Runnin’” even tread power ballad territory. Lyrically, the album largely offers absolutely nothing even worth mentioning, likely because Wayne is completely out of his element throughout, like a great white attempting to walk, or a tiger trying to fly. Needless to say, there are many cringe-worthy moments throughout Rebirth.

Maybe Wayne should have considered working with producers that have experience working with both hip hop artists and rock bands, like Rick Rubin for example. Or maybe he should have just shelved the whole project, since he clearly has no idea what he’s doing. Or perhaps, years from now, Rebirth will be seen as a misunderstood classic, like The Stone’s Exile on Main Street, or The Stooges’ entire body of work (yeah I know…probably not).

In the meantime, let’s just hope the No Ceilings mixtape is enough to tide us over till Tha Carter IV drops.

ATTIC MUSIC'S TOP TEN ALBUMS OF 2009!

So I wasn't so sure if I was going to do this or not.

Every year all the magazines and blogs bombard you with their lists of the top releases, and it's usually bullshit. Some blogs will tell you that only indie bands released anything good this year, while magazines like Rolling Stone will probably say Bob Dylan, Eric Clapton, U2 or Bruce Springsteen (or some other old guy/old guy band that you didn't even know put an album out this year) edged out the competition once again.

Well, in regards to my pathetic attempt at furthering this very same tradition that I just got done talking shit about, do the both of us a favor and just see the following as a list of recommendations. No need to become upset. These are my picks for the 10 Albums of 2009, the ones I find to be essential in summing up the year in music. It's not just about which albums were the most popular, and its certainly not about which albums took 25 listens to get into either(we're looking at you, Pitchfork).

Regardless of whether or not you agree, please check the albums you're unfamiliar with out! Take my word for it; over the course of 2009, these are the albums I was most impressed with. Be sure to click on the album covers to check out a review and explanation for each choice.

Read. Comment. Listen. ENJOY!

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Best Albums of 2009: 10. The Horrors' "Primary Colours"

10. The Horrors “Primary Colors”

So The Horrors really like Jesus and the Mary Chain, My Bloody Valentine and The Shangri-Las. But get past their fairly obvious influences (and get off your high horse while you're at it) and you'll have a hell of an album in front of you. After their campy, garage punk debut album came off as a little too heavy on gimmicky madness, the band closed ranks, enlisted Portishead’s Geoff Barrow as the project’s producer, and came back with a brand new sound, and the most effortlessly creepy indie release of the year.

There’s some post-punk, a nice handful of shoegaze, and a whole lot of goth as well, and the results are quite stunning. “I Can’t Control Myself” has a subtle relentlessness that is positively hypnotic, and the epic “Sea Within A Sea,” clocking in at nearly eight minutes, is a murky, chorus-less, jaw-droppingly brave first single, complete with busy synths and vocalist Faris Badwan’s ghostlike incantations.

In 2009, all anyone could talk about was Grizzly Bear and Animal Collective, but if you ask me, but they should have been talking about The Horrors.

Best Albums of 2009: 9. Drake's "So Far Gone"

9. Drake “So Far Gone”

Hey, remember when I told you guys Kanye’s “808s and Heartbreak” would end up being crazy important and potentially set the course for hip hop’s future? Well judging by the success of Drake, as well as Kid Cudi, this past year, I’m thinking I was absolutely right.

Don’t kid yourselves, Drake isn’t going anywhere any time soon, and he can thank the brilliant “So Far Gone” for that. “Best I Ever Had” and “Successful” tore up the airwaves this summer, and rightfully so. The genius of Drake is the middle ground he’s found between pop and hip hop, which is exactly what Kanye attempted on 808s. You can hear that album’s influence all over So Far Gone; and by adding in elements of contemporary R&B, Lil Wayne’s slurred delivery, Jay-Z’s self-assured mic presence, and Kanye’s emphasis on introspection, Drake crafted a sound and style that is all his own, and it made him a superstar.

And get this; he never once had to mention shooting anyone.

Best Albums of 2009: 8. Lady Gaga's "The Fame Monster"

8. Lady Gaga “The Fame Monster”

The best things about The Fame Monster are its length and its rejection of an overreliance on variety. It doesn’t overstay its welcome and it doesn’t come off like your average cookie-cutter, “throw a bunch of singles at the public and see what sticks” pop release. This is an album; an album so good that even Gaga’s biggest detractors may have to back down from their blind, misinformed “she all style, no substance” claims. Unlike The Fame, which was exhilarating but messy, The Fame Monster is tight, tuneful and sharp as a tack conceptually.

“Alejandro” and “Bad Romance” make it clear that Gaga is the dance-pop gold standard of the moment, with “So Happy I Could Die” not too far behind, but it’s with the epic “Speechless” and the evil “Teeth” that Lady Gaga makes her definitive statement; this woman is capable of anything.

Best Albums of 2009: 7. Rihanna's "Rated R"

7. Rihanna “Rated R”

It’s hard not to let the heart wrenching story of the woman behind this year’s best pop album not seep into a review of her work, so I won’t. Rihanna shows incredible bravery and strength throughout “Rated R,” facing the hurricane that was her personal life head-on over the course of thirteen impeccably written and produced tracks.

Whether she declares that “I’ll never play the victim/I’d rather be a stalker” over a storm of synths and rock guitars on the shitkicking “Rockstar 101,” scolds herself for falling so hard for the wrong man on the gorgeous “Stupid In Love,” or confesses “I just want to set you on fire/So I won’t have to burn alone/ Then you’ll know where I’m coming from,” on the album’s definitive highlight “Fire Bomb,” there’s never any doubt that she’s telling the whole truth and nothing but. Chris Brown’s new album finds the disgraced performer stuck in self-pitying, victim mode, and thankfully Rihanna didn’t go that route; she was too busy surviving, and in the process releasing the best album of her career.

Don’t they call that poetic justice, or something?

Best Albums of 2009: 6. Gallows' "Grey Britain"

6. Gallows “Grey Britain”

Gallows’ sophomore release, entitled “Grey Britain,” opens with the stunning “Riverbank.” The track begins with quiet, deeply unsettling violins and slow-building feedback that erupts into a towering beast of punk-metal guitars and lead vocalist Frank Carter wailing “Great Britain is burning down/We’ll be buried alive before we die/The Queen is dead/So is the crown!” And from there, the band never lets up, spewing venom every bit as earnest and raw as the Sex Pistols when they swore there was no future, or The Clash when they said they wanted to riot. “Misery” is too bruising and honest to be cliché, and “The Vulture (Acts I & II)” sees the band make a successful foray into unabashedly melodic territory, but it's with “The Riverbed,” the sequel to the similarly named opening number, that Gallows achieve near perfection, with a dizzying, hard-as-nails riff and the heaviest, thickest groove any metal song had this side of Sepultura’s “Roots.”

Best Albums of 2009: 5. Florence + the Machine's "Lungs"

5. Florence + The Machine “Lungs”

When you talk about Florence Welch, vocalist and leader of the collaborative project Florence + the Machine, her soulful, indie-friendly voice always takes center stage in the discussion. Somewhere in between Annie Lennox and Lily Allen, Welsh is prodigiously talented. But what makes Florence + the Machine stand out amongst their post-Amy Winehouse, British female singer-songwriter peers, and what makes their debut album “Lungs” so special, is some of the richest, most nuanced and exciting songwriting anywhere in the current landscape of popular music.

“You hit me once/I hit you back/You gave a kick/I gave a slap/You smashed a plate over my head /Then I set fire to our bed” opens the masterful “Kiss With A Fist.” Propelled by a shady-but-fun, Stooges-like musical backdrop, Welsh recounts a mutually abusive relationship with a disturbing resignation. Powerful stuff, but not at all overshadowing the other fantastic compositions to be found here; particularly “Girl With One Eye,” a brilliant song that shuffles along, building momentum before exploding into a deeply emotional catharsis that enthralls and haunts in equal measure, and “Hurricane Drunk,” which boasts the best vocal performance on Lungs, with Welsh howling “I’m going out/Gonna drink myself to death” at the start of one of the albums most memorable choruses.

Best Albums of 2009: 4. The Dream's "Love vs. Hate"

4. The Dream “Love vs. Money”

The only thing more fascinating than The Dream’s many phenomenal pop hits is the lack of attention paid to his far better solo albums.

Last year’s “Love/Hate” showed great promise, but “Love vs. Money” is an entirely different beast; going places mainstream R&B never seems to these days. Things begin exciting but expectedly so; leadoff single “Rockin That Shit” opens with luxuriant, majestic synths, and Walking On The Moon,” featuring Kanye West, and the Mariah Carey-assisted “My Love,” come complete with airtight hooks and rich, layered production, but it’s nothing we haven’t seen before.

No, it’s when we hit the album’s middle section that The Dream really pulls out all the stops, unleashing a haunting song suite that is at the very heart of album’s power. In stark contrast with everything before it, the title track, “Love vs. Money,” boasts frantic, percussion-heavy production, over which The Dream rails bitterly against a girlfriend lost to another man. “Love vs. Money II,” immediately follows and it is stunning. The hard-hitting percussion and purposefully cluttered production on the previous track suddenly disappears, leaving whining, dissonant synths, thick bass, and lone finger snaps, over which The Dream airs out his former lover and her new man for their naivety, imploring “Kiss that nigga/Hug that nigga/Love that nigga to death/Go ahead and please that nigga/Feed that nigga/In time you’ll see the problems yourself/Cause when love is the problem/Nothing can solve it.”

Next comes the 6 and a half minute “Fancy,” the albums riskiest moment; lacking any discernable chorus or structure, it slowly winds along, constantly shape shifting over light piano, swirling strings, chopped-and-screwed vocals, and the occasional Polow Da Don-styled “EY!” It’s an incredibly bizarre arrangement; taking familiar elements and configuring them in a brilliantly unfamiliar way. In other words, you’ve failed big time if you haven’t heard this album yet.

“Love vs. Money” is the best R&B album of 2009. Period.

Best Albums of 2009: 3. Mastodon's "Crack The Skye"

3. Mastodon “Crack The Skye”

The key to Mastodon’s continued success has got to be their willingness to change. They have yet to repeat themselves once, moving from concept to concept, and taking great care to ensure that the concept is fully realized lyrically, visually and (most crucially) musically. Whereas 2002’s “Remission” saw the band evoke the general theme of fire, 2004’s classic “Leviathan” dealt with the theme of water (and specifically Moby Dick) and 2006’s “Blood Mountain” centered on earth as its general theme. Surprise, surprise…this time around they’ve chosen the sky. So what winds up being most impressive about 2009’s “Crack The Skye” is how they’ve tailored the sound of their most recent epic to reflect this idea; and it works astoundingly.

The band injects far more melody into this project than previous ones, allowing for standouts like “Quintessence” and “Oblivion” to anchor themselves with clean singing, unpredictable, jazz-influenced percussion and incredibly intricate, whirlwind guitar work, rather than the typical howling, pounding and pummeling, sledgehammer riffs. The songs also feel longer and more freewheeling than their previous work, taking multiple, unexpected twists and turns throughout, and at times actually are longer than their previous work, with the album’s epic, “The Czar,” clocking in at a filler-less 9 minutes and 47 seconds. It all lends itself to the infinite expanse of the sky above us, and it consistently feels as exhilarating as hurtling through space or floating amidst the clouds.

Mastodon can truly do no wrong.

Best Albums of 2009: 2. Raekwon's "Only Built 4 Cuban Linx...II"

2. Raekwon “Only Built 4 Cuban Linx II”

“Only Built 4 Cuban Linx II” is to Raekwon what “The Chronic 2001” was to Dr. Dre; though it would be virtually impossible to match the power and sheer freshness of the original, OB4CL2 is seriously as amazing as anyone could possibly want it to be, and gets as close as it ever could have gotten to besting the original. And that’s saying a lot.

Set up as a continuation of the first installment of the OB4CL series, we find Raekwon at the top of the drug game, left to survey its bittersweet smell of success and the damage it inflicts on everyone it touches. Nowhere is this motif more successful that the Ghostface Killah-assisted “Cold Outside,” undoubtedly the best rap song recorded in 2009. Over a rich bed of crying horns, and anchored by a haunting chorus from guest vocalist Suga Bang Bang, Rae and Ghost weave one of their most vivid and intricate webs of rhymes and imagery, with Ghostface vividly lamenting “They found a two year old strangled to death/With a “Love Daddy” shirt on in a bag on the top of the steps.” The attention to detail from Raekwon, Ghostface Killah (who, as with the original OB4CL, serves as Rae’s copilot throughout), and every guest emcee involved in the project easily places OB4CLII far above any other rap album of 2009, based solely on sheer lyricism alone.

Meanwhile, the production, supplied by the likes of RZA, Dr. Dre, J Dilla and The Alchemist to name a few, is impeccable, perfectly capturing the decadence, guilt and relentlessness conveyed in the subject matter. “Baggin Crack” literally sounds like someone taking a razor to a coke-covered mirror, the Dr. Dre-produced “Catalina” hits the jackpot with a fantastic chorus from Lyfe Jennings, and the grand finale, “Kiss The Ring,” features ridiculously fitting sampling of Elton John’s “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road” as Rae celebrates his ascent to the top once again.

Many tried, but nobody in the rap game did it better than Raekwon in 2009.

Best Albums of 2009: 1. The Dead Weather's "Horehound"

1. The Dead Weather “Horehound”

Clearly Jack White assembled his latest side project, the utterly brilliant Dead Weather, with one goal in mind; to make the bluesiest, sleaziest, sweatiest, dirtiest, sexiest, most villainous album of the year.

Well, he achieved this goal, and in the process made the best album of the year as well. The masterfully evil Alison Mosshart takes center stage on Horehound, howling away over one near-perfect-yet-perfectly-imperfect, blues-drenched, hard rock number after another, coming off like Patti Smith fronting Led Zeppelin in some backwoods bar joint in Louisiana somewhere. You can practically feel the sweat trickle down your cheek when White and Mosshart feign choking during the drunken, disorienting “I Cut Like A Buffalo,” and the tension only gets thicker when Mosshart croons “There’s a bullet in my pocket burning a hole/You’re so far from you’re weapon and the place you were born” on the slow burning “So Far From Your Weapon.” But its “Treat Me Like Your Mother” that finds the band hitting on something almost supernaturally good. The song strikes out like a caged animal from the second it opens; Mosshart rails against an ungrateful, no good man, wailing “Look me in the eye now/You wanna try to tell a lie?!/But you can’t, and you know why?/I’m just like your mother.” The tumultuous, stuttering verses give way to an eerily steady, droning chorus, with Mosshart repeating “You came home/Too late!” in the kind of tone you’d hear from a woman whose already made up her mind what she’s going to do about her man’s transgressions. No more talking, and no second chances.

“Rocking Horse” sounds like it should have been on the soundtrack to Wild Things (particularly the threesome scene), and the raucous Dylan cover, “New Pony,” which opens with the following lines: “Once I had a pony, Her name was Lucifer/I had a pony, her name was Lucifer/She broke her leg and she needed shooting/I swear it hurt me more than it could ever hurt her,” fits in just fine, don't ya think?

Inevitably, when we reach the end of our journey, at the haunting “Will There Be Enough Water,” in which White and Mosshart wonder “Just because you caught me/does that make it a sin?,” you may get this sinking feeling that perhaps you’ve just taken a sonic journey straight to hell. And you’ll be absolutely right.

This is the devil’s music, you know.

Robin Thicke's "Sex Therapy": Time Is Seriously Running Out, Robin...

Rating: 2.5/5

You see guys...as far as I can see there’s certainly room for Robin Thicke.

On one end of the spectrum there’s the incomparable Maxwell, whose most recent release, “BLACKsummers’night,” astounded with its smooth instrumentation and majestically-vintage melodies. Way at the other end of the current R&B auteur spectrum is The Dream, whose ubiquitous, synthesizer-heavy sound has resulted in not only some of the finest pop songs of the past decade (“Umbrella” and “Single Ladies (Put A Ring On It)” to name a few), but an outstanding debut album, and an even better follow-up, the criminally-overlooked “Love vs. Hate.” Robin Thicke, relying on Marvin Gaye(or Maxwell)-influenced falsetto crooning while not shying away from hip hop-influenced, dance floor-ready production, lies somewhere in between.

And with his latest offering, the aptly-titled “Sex Therapy,” Thicke makes this all the more apparent. 2007’s largely self-penned and produced “Something Else,” with its heavy-handed, 70’s soul-inspired sound, was a dud both commercially and artistically. Thicke’s ambitions were admirable, but the results were just plain boring. This time around Thicke has stepped away from the producer’s chair however, enlisting the assistance of the likes of Polow da Don and Teddy Riley, and racking up an impressive roster of guests, including Jay-Z, Snoop Dogg, Jazmine Sullivan, Kid Cudi and Game. The results clearly demonstrate Thicke’s mainstream R&B balancing act, at times recalling his earlier, retro-leaning sound before shifting into synth-heavy, 106 & Park territory.

And yet somehow, Sex Therapy ends up almost just as boring. Content-wise, things basically center on sex, sex, and then more sex, but that's to be expected, and isn't really the problem. No, unfortunately the blame can be laid firmly upon the shoulders of the man himself. Thicke’s Achilles heel is his voice, without question. Maybe he’s going for a sultry, sexy sound, but that’s no excuse for sounding as paper-thin as he often does. Once again, Thicke’s ambitions are admirable; he obviously admires the vocal stylings of Marvin Gaye and Curtis Mayfield, but he simply lacks their dynamic, emotion-drenched delivery (something D’Angelo and Maxwell have mastered). Consequently, whether Thicke is tackling a mature, grown-and-sexy sound with the shuffling “Mrs. Sexy,” spare, low-key funk on “Make U Love Me,” or a frantic, booty-clapping heatrock like the Nicki Minaj-assisted “Shakin’ It 4 Daddy,” the results are always listenable…but bland. Very, very bland.

Now there are definitely moments on Sex Therapy where the writing and production is just too good for this to be such a big problem. “Meiple,” featuring a show-stealing Jay-Z, is genuinely inventive and fun, and Kid Cudi’s stellar, spaced-out, hard rocking contribution, “Elevators,” takes Thicke into new and almost-exciting territory. But at the end of the day, Sex Therapy glaringly lacks a singular, driving personality underneath all the gloss. And it’s just kind of inexcusable when you’re entire album could be sung by someone else, and no one would really care.

Like I said, there’s definitely room for you, Robin.

Just don’t get too comfortable, maybe?

Clipse' "Til the Casket Drops": I guess the dirty money really ain't that bad...

Rating: 3.5/5

Clipse certainly have a lot to live up to with their new album, don't they?

Gloomy, paranoid and downright suffocating, Clipse’ 2006 sophomore effort “Hell Hath No Fury” is a masterpiece. Among the most critically acclaimed hip hop albums of the past ten years, Hell Hath saw the brothers from Virginia Beach channeling all of their frustrations (with their asshole label Jive records, in particular) into the album, forsaking mainstream pop sensibilities entirely. The album plunges the listener into the madness of the cocaine business; murder, greed, paranoia and regret abound, underscored by some of the best production the Neptunes have ever been responsible for. It pleased the hell out of critics, as well as the group’s adoring fan base, but received a positively ice cold reception at record stores. Faced with the dilemma of balancing artistry with the allure of a platinum plaque, Clipse return with “Til the Casket Drops,” a fierce statement of defiance and success, though also a considerably lighter affair.

Often, the results are absolutely brilliant. Opening with the hard rocking “Freedom,” Clipse make it clear that they couldn’t give two shits about critical opinion of their work, with Pusha T proclaiming “I’m only finding comfort in knowing you can’t replace me/What a thing to say/But what am I to do?/I’m role playing a conscious nigga/And true is true/Cocaine aside, all of the bloggers behoove/My critics finally have a verse of mine to jerk off to/I own you all.” From there, the duo runs effortless through no less than seven tracks without a single blunder. Jittery, high wire synthesizers propel the Cam’ron-assisted “Popular Demand,” and “Kinda Like A Big Deal,” anchored by a rumbling, percussion-heavy monster of a beat, is Clipse at their arrogant best (although they do get just a tad outshined by an overachieving, hilarious Kanye West). “I’m Good” is glamorous, self-aggrandizing, fun, the reggae-tinged, anti-snitching juggernaut “There Was A Murder” entertains and disturbs in equal measure, and “Never Will It Stop,” featuring Re-Up Gang member Ab Liva, is as intense and musically unrelenting as its title would suggest.

But then Clipse make two near-fatal mistakes, practically bringing the momentum of Til the Casket Drops to a standstill with the Keri Hilson(?) assisted “Eyes On Me” and the equally forgettable, Nicole Hurst-assisted “Counseling.” Not only are these songs entirely unnecessary and unremarkable R&B collaborations (i.e. obvious attempts at radio airplay and mainstream acceptance) that, within the context of the album, stick out like hot pepper flakes in a gram of cocaine, but they’re sequenced back to back, and thus bringing the otherwise inventive, hard-edged proceedings to a halt. Unlike Hell Hath’s “Dirty Money,” which felt more like satire of the common practice in hip hop of including a customary “song for the ladies” on an otherwise misogynistic, testosterone-drenched album, there’s just no sarcasm to be found on “Eyes On Me,” a basic, run-of-the-mill exercise in the art of the club banger; something that Clipse don’t do very convincingly.

The group recover nicely though, returning to the epic, remorseful, organ and synth-heavy anthems that they do do convincingly, on stellar tracks like the DJ Khalil-produced “Footsteps” and the stunning, Kenna-assisted finale, “Life Change.” The album ends on a decidedly triumphant, positive note; quite a departure from the fearful, weary-eyed “Nightmares,” Hell Hath No Fury’s dreary conclusion. In contrast to that album’s bitterness and malevolence, Til the Casket Drops is a celebration of life; a decidedly immoral, illegal and potentially deadly life, to be exact. It explains the overall lighter tone and their ill-advised dancefloor ambitions, and the results easily best almost every other rap album released in 2009. But after an album as lean and mean as Hell Hath No Fury, the results are sure to be just a little jarring for even the most steadfast Clipse aficionado.

Gotta love that dirty money though, right?

John Mayer's "Battle Studies": Where The Hell Is John Mayer?

Rating: 2.5/5

Guys, I think John Mayer's holding back on us.

After coming across like a tepid, bland Dave Matthews wannabe on his first two albums, John Mayer’s “Continuum” seemed to come out of nowhere. Boasting a molasses-thick blues sound and simple, elegant songwriting, Continuum was definitely one of the best albums of 2006, and it’s probably among the finest pop albums released this decade. Lyrically, the album saw Mayer reach much deeper than on previous efforts, allowing the listener into his world to find parallels with their own hopes and fears. The songs were memorable, warm, and relatable.

And all of this makes Mayer’s new album “Battle Studies” all the more disappointing. To an extent, most of these songs are actually pretty good. The slightly hard-edged “Assassin” comes equipped with a hard rocking chorus, and his cover of the blues classic “Crossroads” sees Mayer almost, sorta, kinda make good on his promise as a potential heir to the bluesy white guy, singer-songwriter throne. But often Mayer seems to be settling into an airy, U2-inspired sound that just doesn’t hold up, with songs like “Heartbreak Warfare” and “War of My Life” sounding like Joshua Tree b-sides.

“All We Ever Do Is Say Goodbye” is a total snooze-fest meanwhile, and the Taylor Swift-assisted “Half of My Heart,” though possessing a fairly solid lyrical motif, lacks any edge whatsoever. But don’t get it twisted; there a moments on Battle Studies that work fantastically. The slow burning “Edge of Desire” is a perfect example of the beauty in subtle, nuanced songwriting, and first single “Who Says,” is definitely among Mayer’s best compositions. Why, you ask? Well, for starters it conveys the guy’s sense of humor. Ending with the knock out line, “It’s been a long night in New York City/It’s been a long time since 20 too/I don’t remember you looking any better/But then again I don’t remember you,” this is Mayer at his most intriguing and convincing.

For most of Battle Studies however, Mayer seems to be playing it safe. The guy is just being too nice; too conservative when it comes to injecting some of that charming, charismatic personality we’ve all been forced to contend with since his ridiculously unlikely descent into tabloid fixturedom. These songs always sound good, but there’s much left to be desired in terms of establishing a connection with what you’re hearing.

C'mon John...how's about opening up a little bit next time?

Adam Lambert's "For Your Entertainment": He Will...He Will ROCK YOU! (sorta)

Rating: 3.5/5

At the start of “Strut,” track 4 on “For Your Entertainment,” when Adam Lambert croons “I wanna start a revolution,” one can’t help but see it as the album, and the man’s, mission statement.

I mean, Adam Lambert’s very existence is pretty damn revolutionary. There have been many openly gay pop stars, but certainly not at the start of their careers. The sexual orientation of George Michael, Elton John and Freddie Mercury was perhaps an open secret throughout their respective heydays, but Lambert is beginning his career open, honest and unapologetic about whom he is, and that’s important. Gay youth (and straight youth, as well) across the globe can turn on the radio and hear a young, talented and confident gay man treat his sexuality exactly the way he should, rather than as some dark secret to be ashamed of and hide at all costs. While this is exciting and, well…awesome, it places quite the burden on the 27 year-old American Idol alum; can he live up to not just the hype, but the responsibility of forging new ground for a community in the throes of a vital, ever-intensifying battle for equal rights?

Well, the second part of that question remains to be seen (and would be quite the daunting task to judge). Musically, “For Your Entertainment” is a respectable, accomplished debut album however, showcasing Lambert’s exceptional pipes over slice after slice of fun, life-affirming, Queen-inspired glam-pop. It’s a bit disappointing that things stay at the shallow end of the pool lyrically, oscillating between carefree, “life is good” sentiments and lover’s lament. But sometimes the results are spectacular; “Pick U Up” is a blast, and album highlight "Sure Fire Winners," Lambert's response to "We Will Rock You" and "We Are The Champions," actually rocks pretty hard. The aforementioned “Strut” is a perfect example of songwriting that marries concept with sound perfectly (the song really does...strut), and the Lady Gaga-penned “Fever” is the album’s sexiest and most confident moment, perhaps in part due to the fact that it’s the only song where Lambert has the balls to use the pronouns “he” and “him” to describe the object of his affections, rather than playing it safe.

Elsewhere though, the album begins to falter with cookie cutter, mainstream pop numbers, like lead single “For Your Entertainment” for example, that do nothing particularly spectacular and seem to just lumber along until they’re over, relying on Lambert himself to carry the song. "Aftermath," for example, boasts a phenomenal vocal performance, as does just about everything here, though the song itself is actually quite bland.

But when things slow down, the results are quite stunning. “Soaked,” written by Muse, is absolutely gorgeous. Boasting the best vocal performance on the album, Lambert sounds like Jeff Buckley reincarnated. “Soaked” is gloriously heavy-handed, but its twin, album closer “Broken Open,” utilizes a subtle, Radiohead-inspired electronic sound, and a beautiful, effectively-restrained performance from Lambert, to end the album in haunting, contemplative fashion.

There’s something to be said for the way Adam Lambert injects his unique personality into this music; this is definitely his album. Hopefully next time he’ll be able to match his admirable ambition with song craft that works all the time, rather than just some of the time.

But for a first try, “For Your Entertainment” is nothing to be ashamed of.

Lady Gaga's "The Fame Monster": Your New Favorite Album

Rating 4.5/5

Is Lady Gaga even human?

Ridiculous question, I know, but upon snagging my first listen to “The Fame Monster” last week, I’ve been pondering this mystery ever since.

I mean, what can't she do? Her music videos and live performances are quickly becoming must-see media events (did anybody else see her break a massive glass barrier surrounding a piano with a microphone stand, set this same piano on fire while playing it, and then smash empty vodka bottles on its keys throughout her performance at the AMA’s last night?), her fashion sense (or fashion philosophy, perhaps) and public persona fascinates even her biggest detractors, and her music has basically held every club and radio station hostage for the past 8 months or so.

Lady Gaga owned 2009

And with The Fame Monster, she will undoubtedly own 2010 as well.

What I find most intriguing about The Fame Monster is how cohesive and satisfying it is. Running at just over 34 minutes in length, it’s hard to believe that The Fame Monster was supposed to be some measly collection of bonus tracks for the rerelease of the massively successful “The Fame” album. Don’t be confused or misled; The Fame Monster is a brisk, consistently entertaining album, and it’s better than The Fame. For one thing, It’s more interesting musically, going in some ridiculously unexpected directions. “Speechless”, most definitely the centerpiece of the album, is a new songwriting plateau for Gaga, stripping away the synthesizers and sound effects to reveal an actual heart underneath all that glitter and makeup (and fire and blood). Her vocal performance is masterful; powerful and sturdy at first, and then fragile and movingly unhinged the next. It's a near perfect exercise in epic, glammed-up power balladry that would definitely make Freddy Mercury crack an approving smile.

But the true gem here is the depraved, deliciously evil “Teeth”. Sounding like The Doors' “Alabama Song (Whiskey Bar)” if it were produced by Timbaland, the song is meant to signal the point where Gaga gives in to that dastardly fame monster; she sings, “Got no salvation/Got no religion/Take a bite of my bad girl meat/Show me your teeth.” It’s one of the oddest pop songs I’ve heard all year, and it’s truly a testament to Lady Gaga’s talent that it works so damn well. The song struts along like a drunken supermodel teetering off the side of a runaway, at once sloppy and thrillingly fierce.

Elsewhere the songs may hold a bit closer to previous hits like “Paparazzi” and “Poker Face”, but it’s in the details, both sonically and lyrically, where Gaga takes things to the next level. “Bad Romance” has got to be her best moment lyrically, embracing the ugliness and misery of a relationship, and even conjuring a few clever Hitchcock references, with lines like “I want your psycho/Your vertigo shtick/I want you in my rear window/Baby, you’re sick.” Meanwhile, “Alejandro” comes complete with a fun, unforgettable hook, and “So Happy I Could Die” is a blissful, dreamlike send-up to a carefree, shit-faced night out with friends.

And did I mention that track 6, entitled "Telephone" feautures Beyonce?!

Say no more, right?

All in all, The Fame Monster is what’s happening right now. This is the pop album of the moment, and you’d have to be remiss or deaf to let it pass you by. In other words, it’ll be the soundtrack to you getting ready to go out to the clubs this weekend, and then it’ll be all you hear in the clubs once you get there.

Yes ladies and gentlemen, the year of Lady Gaga is upon us.

Rihanna's "Rated R": It's a MADHOUSE!!!

Rating: 5/5

When Rated R’s intro, “Madhouse,” opens with towering, horror movie organs and a mysterious, creepy voice announcing, “Ladies and Gentleman, for those among you that are easily frightened, we suggest you turn away now. To those of you who think they can take it, we say…Welcome to the Madhouse,” it becomes quite clear that this is a very different Rihanna.

Was it a calculated move on the part of her camp to return to the scene with an album as honest, raw and, at times, hardcore as Rated R? Or is this what happens when a young artist suffers the way Rihanna has over the course of this past year? I don’t know. What I do know is that Rated R is nothing less than a triumph; while there may not be another “Umbrella” here, what we have instead is a consistently adventurous, hard-edged, and surprisingly badass pop album.

There are multiple aspects of Rated R that stand out initially, one of which being Rihanna herself. The girl has finally arrived, matching Beyonce’s fiery, rapidfire vocals with her own funky, patois-inflected style, rather than simple mimicry. Rihanna’s swag (I hate that word, but bear with me) is intoxicating and endlessly entertaining throughout, particularly on 2nd single, “Hard”. Produced by The-Dream and Trick Stewart, and featuring a masterful guest verse from Young Jeezy, Rihanna sounds like Hip Hop’s response to Ronnie Spector; she plays it cool and detached, bragging effortlessly “All up on it/Know you wanna clone it/Ain’t like me, that chick too phony/Ride this beat, beat, beat like a pony/Meet me at the top, it’s getting lonely.” Rihanna has developed an incredible knack for selling a song with sheer force of personality, recognizing and exploiting the humor in some of the lyrics and then calculatedly enunciating them for maximum impact (check the way she sings “I’m such a fuckin’ ladaaaaay” on the much-maligned/completely underrated “The Wait Is Ova’” for proof). And when she has to take it down a notch, she does it with subtlety and class; “Take A Bow”-styled ballad “Stupid In Love” succeeds mainly because of the sweeping melodrama of the arrangement and Rihanna’s pained, emotion-drenched performance on the effectively-repetitive chorus.

Rihanna’s emergence as one of the most charismatic and effectual pop vocalist of her generation is welcome but not surprising; she made that very clear with her show-stealing performance on Jay-Z’s “Run This Town” earlier this year. What is most shocking about Rated R is the brash, honest and all-around badass lyrical content. Rated R is what Britney Spears’ Blackout would have been if Spears had chosen better songwriters/producers and had made the crucial decision not to pretend that the intense pressure and drama of her real life didn’t exist (the obvious exception being “Piece of Me”). Rihanna does not make this mistake, and has definitely given significant input into the songwriting here. “Russian Roulette” tells the story of a dangerous, ticking time bomb of a relationship, while the stunning, Justin Timberlake-penned “Cold Case Love” is definitely addressing Rihanna’s now infamous initial decision to rekindle her relationship with Chris Brown in the weeks following the assault. Over a spare, haunting organ, she croons plaintively “On my roof/Dark and I’m burning a rose/I don’t need proof/I’m torn apart and you know/What you did to me was a crime/Cold case love/And I let you reach me one more time/But that’s enough.”

Remarkably, the album is careful to respect the range of emotions one must feel in a toxic, volatile relationship, presenting an incredibly human picture of Rihanna and the struggle she’s endured. “Fire Bomb”, like a darker, better “Shut Up and Drive”, tells the story of star-crossed lovers, fated to destroy themselves with the intense, self-destructive love they share. And the bridge will give you chills, with Rihanna pleading “Baby we were killing them/They couldn’t handle the millionth degree/We were criminals/As we were burning the world called the police/Fire department, ambulance/You can call me crazy cause I believe/The only move for me and you/Is to blow our flames.” Three songs later comes “G4L”, a bitter, violent revenge fantasy and (perhaps ill-advised) rallying cry for battered women, complete with a horrifying opening line: “I lick the gun when I’m done/Cause I know that revenge is sweet/So sweet.” Rihanna once again takes a distant, almost maniacally detached tone, this time over a murky, simmering bed of synths, calling herself a “Gangsta 4 Life” and boasting “We’re an army/Better yet, a navy/Better yet, crazy/Guns in the air/Guns in the air/Guns in the air/Can’t hurt us again when you come around here.”

Rated R has its lighter moments as well, and the results are just as risky and electrifying. “Te Amo” may be the most musically and lyrically intriguing song on the album, telling the story of a brief, whirlwind lesbian love connection over a brisk and bright, latin-influenced arrangement. Elsewhere, Rihanna is in rare form, brashly proclaiming “Six inch walker/Big shit talker/I never play a victim/I’d rather be a stalker/So baby take me in/I’ll disobey the law/Make sure you frisk me good/Check my panties and my bra” over a storm of synths and heavy metal guitars on “Rock Star 101”. And as for the dance floor moment of the album, that award goes to “Rude Boy” a playful, in-your-face, dirty talk session over a dancehall-influenced beat. Rihanna mocks and taunts her partner throughout, asking “Come here rude boy/Boy, can you get it up?/Come here rude boy/Boy, is you big enough?/ Take it, Take it/Baby, Baby/Take it, take it/Love me, love me!” Yeah…like I said, this is a different Rihanna.

You’re going to hear a lot of things about Rated R in the coming weeks. Some people will hate it, and long for another song like “Disturbia” or “Don’t Stop The Music; others will disapprove of the content, perhaps finding it to be excessive or (my personal favorite) “setting a bad example.” Well, those people will be completely wrong.

Rated R is exactly the album Rihanna was supposed to make at this stage in her career. It may not sell as well as Good Girl Gone Bad, but it's undoubtedly the better album, revealing an emotional depth that, though previously dormant in Rihanna's music, was absolutely necessary for her to convey in the aftermath of her struggles.

And did I mention that its seriously badass?