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New York Monthly Herald's Shoshanna Rozentein selected a newcomer to the world of music  as the golden turkey of the month. If this guy is a newbie, why to bother, Shoshanna? But Shoshanna is determined to kick his ass. She told the Globe Weekly News: "This guy is a nuisance and a major embarrassment. I am worried, because his words are filthy and his demeanor arrogant." And she adds: "I don't want a good Jewish guy to turn into an obscene pumpkin." So for God's sake who is this character?  His  name is Chadlove, an amateur who made a Rap debut with a third rate CD "Speak No Evol". In her review, Rozenstein wrote: "Poor thing, nothing  to listen to or to understand. Vulgar, slang, street language wrapped into third class noise. Stuff titled like "Touch My Ass". You got the idea. We chose Chadlove "Turkey of the Month". Speak No Evol's rating: Zero minus. Rozenstein is tough. She also hammered another Jewish performer. She told us that "the publicist of Craig Taubman tried very hard to convince her that her client, Taubman, is the hottest ticket in the Jewish music business. On the phone, his public relation wizard told Rozenstein: "He [Taubman, that is] is the most famous Jewish singer, today." Really? I never heard of Craig Taubman, replied Rozenstein. "Anyway, I got curious and ditched his CD ( Friday Night Live) in my CD drive, curious to find out how good he is. Well,  the music is fabulous, absolutely splendid. A great plus for Taubman who wrote and orchestrated the music. But, unfortunately, this man can't sing. Pity. I see in him, a great composer and outstanding musician. But as a singer? NO NO! He should stick to music and composition, ONLY! ", wrote Rozenstein. What does she like Shoshanna? "Only good material and talented artists make my day.", explained Shoshanna Rozenstein.

CDs REVIEWS:

Confessions On a Dance Floor
Madonna (Warner)

It's back to the future as Madonna fetishizes the disco ball and rides a deep house beat into the sunrise. This one's for the clubs. She delivers an ode to one of the planet's great clubbing cities, on the sure-to-be-big-in-the-Apple I Love New York. At her best, Madonna lets her voice hang on simple pop hooks. She is at home amid the thumping beats and synth-laden production (courtesy of DJ-producer Stuart Price, aka Les Rhythmes Digitales). They lose the plot a bit, eventually, and songs begin to blur. But it's an easy, fun listen that captures house music's ability to be both festive and introspective. Party on. Review by Tcha Dulevy.

Ultimate Collection
Eurythmics (RCA/SonyBMG)

Annie Lennox was always a contradictory pop star, seemingly too smart and unavailable for the full-blown version of what she and Dave Stewart so obviously coveted. Her bitter edge was, fortunately, always balanced by something heated and pleading; and when she sang against the beat in Angel with that big, fierce/needy voice, all was forgiven. Stewart programmed synths as emotionally expressive as big pop ever had, and although personal taste gravitates more to the downtempo (Baby's Coming Back, Here Comes the Rain) than the uptempo (the public-advocacy Sisters Are Doin' It for Themselves), the box score is good. Includes one new song, the synth-gospel I've Got A Life, all the hits, and a couple from the underrated 1999 Peace album.  Review by M. Lopage.

Vertically Challenged
Lady Sovereign (Chocolate Industries)

The buzz surrounding this British grime upstart is huge. She's tiny, going on massive. She has been signed by Jay-Z to release her full-length debut in the spring. Here, we get a big tease, in the form of some awesome, next-level U.K. hip-hop styles. Think Missy Elliott, M.I.A. and Eminem rolled into the body of a diminutive, teenaged white girl from Wembley. Hilarious sass, wicked wordplay and deliciously twisted, big-bass beats to move the dancefloor like nobody's business. Includes remixes by Adrock and Ghislain Poirier (whose new album is reviewed below). 

Breakupdown
Ghislain Poirier (Chocolate Industries)

He's been called Montreal's answer to Diplo, but as he proves here, DJ-producer Ghislain Poirier has his own thing going on. When not remixing Lady Sovereign or hanging with wild French rap act TTC, Poirier is banging out booty-moving, mind-altering electro-hip-hop beats. He covers much territory over these 20 tracks, adding depth and texture along the way. Some of this borders on esoteric, but the funky bottom-end holds everything together. Review by Tcha Dulevy.

Aerial
Kate Bush (Columbia)

Kate Bush hasn't released an album since 1993's The Red Shoes, and at 47, she's now more soccer mom than chanteuse. But she's still masterful at making spooky, sexy music tinged with strangeness. And this double-CD set should satisfy long-neglected fans. Both discs, A Sea of Honey and A Sky of Honey, are filled with Bush's lush piano-playing, strings, moody electronica, nature sounds and her poetic, if not slightly wacky words. The first single, King of the Mountain, sounds like the onset of winter itself with synthesized wind blowing and icy computerized blips. The lyrics are about Elvis, the king himself, frolicking "in the snow with Rosebud," a presumed allusion to the sled in Citizen Kane. In Pi, she sings the mathematical equation. And it sounds good. Really -- if you're the kind of fan who loves her operatic voice and wouldn't mind hearing her sing a grocery list or the alphabet. On the second disc, Prologue sounds like soaring movie music with lyrics about "the light in Italy." If King of the Mountain is winter, Sunset is summer. Stripped down, the song is about the words. "This is a song of colour," Bush sings. "Where sands sing in crimson, red and rust/Then climb into bed and turn to dust." It hits a crescendo with Spanish-style guitar and a peppy chorus, "Oh, sing of summer and a sunset." Both CDs are classic Kate -- meant to be played in the dark when you're up too late. Amazingly, her voice hasn't changed dramatically over the years. If anything, the squeakiness of Wuthering Heights and Running Up that Hill, has simply mellowed, leaving behind a more mature, seasoned voice, but no less haunting. Review by Kim Cuttiss.

New Whirl Odor
Public Enemy (Slamjamz)

Public Enemy exploded onto the scene in the late 1980s and, for the band and the world that inspires their lyrics, much remains the same. Another Bush is in the White House; the nation is at war; and P.E. once again is on the outside of what is considered mainstream rap. One thing remains central: the group's vocal and artistic leader, Chuck D. New Whirl Odor, P.E.'s first full studio album in six years, carries much of the punch that makes Chuck D. one of the strongest rappers out there. His style is full frontal, holding nothing back. He wields his rich tenor voice like an Uzi. Chuck D. is back, and he's mad as hell. The first cuts of the album closely stick to P.E.'s signature sound: Chuck's smart delivery, Flavor Flav's sharp backup, guitar hooks and booming rock-oriented beats. When the band ventures into new sounds in the second half of the disc, the timing slows, guest voices take over and much of the power is lost, unfortunately. The collection's strongest moments are those built on P.E.'s core identity. It may not be fresh, but it's heavy in a way that makes the listener relieved to get a break from the less-substantive ideology that marks much of what is happening in hip-hop today. Review by Michele Morgan.

The Tragically Hip
Hipeponymous (Universal)

Any massive retrospective is bound to get a few things wrong. A pessimistic way of looking at things? Maybe. But considering we're talking about the first collection to honour the Tragically Hip -- Canada's feverishly adored favourite sons -- what's not included on this two-CD, two-DVD set is important. Thankfully, Hipeponymous includes just about everything for your $60 or so. Diehards desperate for the two new songs (No Threat and The New Maybe) will be happy, as will the old-schoolers devoted to the band's rock solid debut, 1989's Up to Here, which is well represented here. The casual listener will be served better by the portions of Hipeponymous that are available separately: the two-CD hits set Yer Favourites, or the live concert DVD That Night in Toronto. Both are resplendent. But Hipeponymous, a limited-edition package with a 48-page bound book that features a bonus DVD of videos and vignettes, is for the true geek. And geeks will indeed notice the glaring omission of classic cuts Trickle Down, Opiated, and Pigeon Camera. That said, for a collection that tackles an 18-year career, 10 studio albums and five million records sold, it's an oversight we nerds can live with. Review by M. delvin.
 

Give Me the Fear
Tokyo Dragons (Escapi)

If there are any more faithful heirs to the glorious tradition of old-school, '70s hard rock, I've yet to hear them. This British quartet has clearly done its homework, taking inspiration from the best of the best. There's something familiar on almost every one of these tracks, particularly if you recall when Gerald Ford was president. The opening track What The Hell channels Kiss's All-American Man. Next up is Get 'Em Off, which reminds the listener of AC/DC's Riff Raff. Do You Wanna? has a shout-along chorus very much in the spirit of Kiss's Rock And Roll All Nite, while Johnny Don't Wanna Ride cops the riff from the Sex Pistols' God Save The Queen. Teenage Screamers stops midway for a molten guitar solo a la Styx's Renegade, Ready Or Not borrows a riff from Queen's Tie Your Mother Down, and Burn On sounds more than a little like Deep Purple's Space Truckin'. Chasing The Night completes the Kiss circle with a very Ace Frehley-ish guitar solo at the end. This is the kind of power chord-laden stadium rock that ruled back in the day, and thanks to bands like Tokyo Dragons, may do so yet again. Review by P. Warney.

Greatest Hits
'NSync (Jive)

Ah, the giddy boy-band heyday of the late 1990s -- don't you miss it? The harmony... the choreography... the white boys in cornrows? Yeah, me neither. Regardless, 'NSync has released a greatest hits disc. And even though it wasn't that long ago, let's just say early 'NSync sounds a bit tinny and dated. Because truly, they have evolved as artists. Puberty will do that. The appropriately titled Greatest Hits is heavy on the old-school stuff. Four of the 12 songs are from their 1998 self-titled debut album: the incessantly perky I Want You Back and Tearin' Up My Heart, and the slow jamz God Must Have Spent a Little More Time on You and I Drive Myself Crazy. One boy-band ballad, though, is as interchangeable and non-threatening as another. They may as well be the Backstreet Boys and take over the adult contemporary chart. Three others are from 2000's No Strings Attached -- Bye Bye Bye (which is still an insanely catchy song), It's Gonna Be Me (the last word of which de facto frontman Justin Timberlake always pronounced like "may") and This I Promise You. All of these sound cheesy and overproduced compared to their later songs from Celebrity, which marked the beginning of Justin and JC Chasez's singer-songwriter phase as well as the apparent beginning of the end of 'NSync, with the members quickly branching out into "solo projects." Sadly, Celebrity only has three entries here: Pop, Girlfriend and Gone (far and away the greatest 'NSync song ever -- soulful, passionate, wistful, with a gorgeously shot black-and-white video). And of those, the version of Girlfriend is that annoying remix featuring Nelly. I'm sorry, Girlfriend truly is one of the quintet's greatest hits, with its Jackson 5-esque bass line. Nelly has his charms and all, but here he just gets in the way. Skip past the other two tracks: I'll Never Stop, which previously hadn't been released in the United States but is virtually indistinguishable from Tearin' Up My Heart, and that corny song with Gloria Estefan from the Meryl Streep movie Music of the Heart. Only if you're longing for the innocence of your teen years will you want this entire album. Otherwise, just stick with Celebrity, which in retrospect is looking better all the time -- and which you probably already have in your iPod anyway. It's OK to admit it.  Review by C. Lamire

A Time For Love
Stevie Wonder (Universal/Motown)

Each May, hundreds of people pack a trendy New York club for a Stevie Wonder birthday bash. Wonder doesn't attend -- but that doesn't stop the party. That's because the evening's draw is not the man, but a night of his Wonder-ful music: hours of classics, from Isn't She Lovely to Golden Lady to Living for the City, all a testament to his undeniable musical genius. Sadly, if any material from his newest album, A Time for Love, makes the cut next year, it might clear the dance floor. Comprised mainly of so-so ballads and rote uptempo numbers, this album reinforces the familiar knock on Wonder -- that he hasn't made any compelling material since groundbreaking albums like Original Musiquarium and Innervisons decades ago. Which actually isn't true. His 1991 soundtrack to Spike Lee's Jungle Fever was a dazzling disc that should be ranked among his classics, and 1995's Conversation Peace had plenty of strong material that proved his relevance after more than three decades in the business. It's hard to hear that relevance in A Time To Love. Much of it sounds dated, particularly the funk grooves, which sound like they're stuck in some early '90s time warp, weighed down by heavy drum machines and synthesizers. The first track, If Your Love Cannot Be Moved, sounds mechanical and soulless, despite the presence of gospel star Kim Burrell. From the Bottom of My Heart ranks with Wonder's saccharine hit For Your Love. And So What The Fuss, featuring Prince on guitar, sounds too much like a George Clinton song -- disappointing from an artist of paramount originality and creativity. Wonder's best music has always stirred the heart and soul with sparkling musical arrangements and spellbinding lyrics. There are few examples of that here. How Will I Know, a duet with his daughter Aisha Morris, is lovely and touching -- Wonder's voice complements his daughter's sweet soprano perfectly, and his crisp piano melody is truly enchanting. The jazzy arrangement of Moon Blue gives it life, and Shelter In The Rain is an inspiring, uplifting anthem. But those are the exceptions. While the album is certainly not bad, it's not compelling enough to merit multiple listens -- a painful statement to make (especially for this die-hard Stevie fan). It's hard to believe this album took ten years to complete. Anyone needing their Stevie Wonder fix would do better reaching into their archives. Review by Nekisha Moody.

Broken Social Scene
Broken Social Scene (Arts & Crafts)

It's not an easy album.  Sprawling Toronto indie-rock collective Broken Social Scene's followup to the Juno-winning You Forgot It in People journeys farther into ambience and cluttered noise, thumbing its nose at the obvious, intermittently indulging the delectable, planing hooks it casts in its slumber. Three songs in, on 7/4 (Shoreline), we soar alongside Feist, who lends her wispy voice to the achingly lovely, irregularly timed anthem. It is one of the more straightforward moments. For the most part, melody and mess struggle for space, each emerging from the other, before ceding right of way. Neither ever wins, but they battle on. It's intuitive, sleepy, dreamy, tireless, a tad unwieldy, but pleasant, and admirably uncompromising. The album is out in stores Oct. 11, but is already ranked no. 1 at amazon. Review by Tcha Duvley.

Franz Ferdinand
You Could Have It So Much Better (Domino/Sony BMG)

"I love your friends / They're all so arty." Do tell. As your bitchy, all-too-knowing guide to the Underworld that follows instant stardom, Alex Kapranos has a question to answer: do the Franzies have a heart, or is it death by style? The high-stepping dance-glam single Do You Want To proves they still have clubby energy, and a brilliant kiss-off to the scenesters in What You Meant proves Kapranos still has a voice rich with banked contempt. People on YCHISMB are coming, going and being asked to leave, with the band indulging in and exposing the disillusionments, hookups and bad behaviours of new pop glory. Flash and too slick at first hearing, and yet despite some more fussy time-changes, this is ultimately a winningly energetic followup. Review by M. Lopage.

Late Registration
Kanye West (Universal)

So this is where Kanye West wants to take hip-hop -- beyond the sped-up soul samples that made him famous, beyond his first album's gospel and R&B influences... into the orchestra pit. Fashioning himself on the adventurous Late Registration as more of a streetwise composer than arrogant producer-rapper, West piles on lush layers of strings, pianos and horns. Then some more instruments. And a few melodic lines from a choir. The abundance of sound results from the Chicago star's collaboration with Jon Brion, a southern California musician who has scored films, produced for Fiona Apple and had never before touched a hip-hop record. Together, they have created an album that is musically far more rich and complex than West's acclaimed first disc, and is easily the year's best hip-hop CD. Their quirky creativity makes Registration, which comes out Tuesday, less instantly accessible than The College Dropout, but more rewarding for repeat listeners. West's sometimes-mumbly voice is crisper, and his range of topics is again vast and intriguing. From his perch atop the pop world, West warms up with a few easy crowd-pleasers. Adam Levine of Maroon5 supplies the delicate chorus for Heard 'Em Say, a softie of a first song. Touch the Sky exuberantly jacks Marvin Gaye's Move on Up with one-liners about the hard life before fame: "Any pessimists, I ain't talk to them. Plus, I ain't have no phone in my apartment." The sly single Gold Digger features Jamie Foxx doing his Ray Charles I Got a Woman thing on the hook, and another rather obvious sample, Shirley Bassey's James Bond theme Diamonds Are Forever, gets reworked as Diamonds From Sierra Leone. That track and its remix, both included, feature West at his best -- introspective, political and witty. He raps in the original version about his night of petulance at the American Music Awards, where he lost in the new artist category and complained backstage. In the remix, featuring Def Jam label head Jay-Z, he examines African conflict diamonds: "I thought my Jesus piece was so harmless, til I seen a picture of a shorty, armless." West tends toward more such duality in production. Near the end of the car-celebrating Drive Slow, the jazz-infused beat gets stuck in syrup, slowing in the southern chopped-and-screwed style until the song title comes off as a rather ominous command, from a guy who famously knows well the consequences of car crashes. And in the odd yet enjoyable We Major, the pairing of lyrical heavyweight Nas with the drum break used in Run-DMC's Sucker MCs -- a perfect opportunity for some back-to-basics street rap -- is nearly overwhelmed by a Brion-style cacophony of twinkling pianos and swelling horns. West is at his creative peak when focusing on his family through the sweet la-la-laing Hey Mama and equally touching Roses, which uses a tale of his grandmother's hospitalization to criticize the state of health care. Determined to prove he's his own man, West invites Game to sing the hook on Crack Music despite the Compton rapper's coy rap war with Jay-Z, and doesn't even rap on My Way Home, given over to friend Common for a single magnificently crafted verse. Other guests on the 14 songs include Paul Wall, GLC, Brandy, Cam'ron and Consequence, who delivers a song-stealing verse on Gone. Conducting them all like a hip-hop maestro is West, a virtuoso of beats flaunting his laudable inability to be locked into a single style. Review By R. Parson.

Music Of The Sun
Rihanna (Def Jam)

Walk the Line Soundtrack
Various Artists (Wind Up)

As Johnny Cash, Joaquin Phoenix out-mimics Jamie Foxx in this year's four-star biopic Walk the Line. Reese Witherspoon is also top-notch as June Carter, while Tyler Hilton and Jonathan Rice are perfectly fine in their respective roles of Elvis Presley and Roy Orbison. But what astonishes on celluloid sounds second-rate on CD. Good as they may be, these are mainly actors playing roles -- though Waylon Malloy Payne (Jerry Lee Lewis) comes to his part naturally, as the son of country singer Sammi Smith and Willie Nelson's guitarist Jody Payne. Payne, incidentally, is named after his godfather Waylon Jennings, whose son Shooter Jennings's sparing take on his late father's 1966 album track I'm a Long Way From Home is the most artistically credible cut here. Strangely, Jennings, a budding recording star in his own right, is not at all made up to look like Waylon in the movie: that he sounds more like himself than his dad makes his version stand out next to the others' copies. Not to slight such suitable facsimiles as the Phoenix-Witherspoon duets It Ain't Me Babe and Jackson, but the true Cash and Carter fan will opt for the real thing every time. Review by Jim Baseman.

The Body Acoustic
Cyndi Lauper (Epic)

On her new disc The Body Acoustic, 52-year-old Cyndi Lauper recasts a slew of her old hits -- from She Bop to True Colors and Time after Time -- in acoustic form. It's an experiment that could soar or crash. Alanis Morissette released an acoustic version of her breakthrough, best-selling 1995 album Jagged Little Pill to lukewarm reviews just a few months ago. But Lauper -- both slinky and spunky in a bodiced red dress and platinum hair on the album's cover -- has penned or performed some of the most durable tunes to come out of the '80s. And her voice, at once raspy, perky and thrillingly powerful, can still pull emotion out of the deep crevices of those 20-year-old words. The Body Acoustic, while not earth-shattering, shakes up an old formula with new tricks, from Lauper's own dulcimer playing to talented guests. First of all, Lauper co-produced the album with Rick Chertoff, the whizz behind her 1984 Grammy-winning debut She's So Unusual, and William Wittman, who produced 2003's At Last. Quietly unassuming, She Bop -- which was originally a bouncy, naughty hit from Lauper's debut, She's So Unusual -- could fuel a spaghetti western with its dusty dulcimer chords and whistling interlude. Noteworthy songs include Money Changes Everything with Lauper and Taking Back Sunday's Adam Lazzara harmonizing along to a hand-clapped beat. Sarah McLachlan's breathy duet with Lauper on 1984's Time After Time provides good contrast to Ani DiFranco and Vivian Green's inspired yelps on Sister of Avalon. True Colors, from 1986, is frankly beautiful: simplified to acoustic strings and Lauper almost sobbing its theme of love and acceptance. Of course, Lauper wouldn't be who she is without the lasting legacy of 1984's Girls Just Wanna Have Fun. The only purely un-acoustic song on the album, it's a cute but fluffy take on the original with Japanese pop duo Puffy Ami Yumi giggling to a ska-influenced groove.

Pixies Sell Out 2004 Reunion Tour
The Pixies

It's a simple fact: the Pixies still matter. Big time. Since they first took the stage in Boston during the Reagan era and achieved immortality of sorts by having Where Is My Mind? featured prominently in the film Fight Club, the quartet has always managed to stand apart from its contemporaries. Their melodies were soaring, amplified and -- to be frank -- a bit bizarre. The group blended rockabilly with piercing vocal cries, subtle wah-wahs that belied sexual undertones and melodies so sharp they could peel back your face.

 The band's canon -- Surfer Rosa, Trompe Le Monde and the premier Doolittle -- stand out as the soundtrack of choice for the 1990s. But a bitter and acrimonious breakup in the mid '90s, and separate projects by the members -- Frank Black, Kim Deal, Joey Santiago and David Lovering -- left the Pixies in the past. In 2004, though, they set aside their differences, kissed and made up for a tour which was captured on the band's latest DVD, Pixies Sell Out 2004 Reunion Tour. And it couldn't have come at a better time. The 142-minute DVD captures a band still in its prime. The signature songs are in abundance: This Monkey's Gone to Heaven, Velouria, Bone Machine and Here Comes Your Man. So, too, is the primal energy that made the Pixies stand out back in their heyday. The main portion of the DVD features 28 tunes captured at the Eurockeennes Festival in Belfort, France, last year. There are 15 bonus tracks, too, from sets at the Fuji Rock Festival in Japan; Coachella in California; and the Move Festival in Manchester, England, among others. Regardless of the venue, the sound, showmanship and performances are stellar. And watching the DVD is truly the next best thing to being there. Review by P. Moore.

Distortion
Reverend Run (Island Def Jam)

It's been 22 years since Rev. Run stepped in the game in his Adidas as one-third of the legendary Run-DMC. Listening to his latest album, Distortion, is a little like being in time warp, as the rap pioneer delivers songs reminiscent of the group's groundbreaking sound. Now a 40-year-old father of five, Rev. Run stands alone on Distortion. The album is not flooded with guest appearances or commercial-friendly tracks from your favourite producers. Instead, producer White Boy, a virtual unknown, has laced the 10-track release with heavy guitar riffs and pulsating drums. Mind on the Road, the first single, and Distortion combine the hard rock sound with his clean-cut style of rap -- after all, he's a real reverend now. On The Way, Run declares he's "healing people with the vinyl... like I'm preaching with the Bible." On Home Sweet Home, the standout track on the album, Run samples Lynyrd Skynrd's Sweet Home Alabama in a tribute to fallen group member and friend, the slain Jam Master Jay. Run's return is honest and surprisingly brief, spanning 20-plus minutes. Longtime fans will be able to appreciate the attempt. However, it may not connect with the newer "young, fly and flashy" generation that will probably tune into his new MTV family reality series -- Run's House -- before they pick up the album. Review by M. Ferney.

Motley Crue: Carnival Of Sins
Motley Crue

Carnival of Sins has all the crazy antics that make the band great: unicycle-riding midgets, fire-eating lesbian strippers, topless female fans... oh yeah, there's music in there somewhere, too. The DVD chronicling the legendary heavy metal band's 155-city reunion tour this year embraces the best -- and worst -- cliches of the live concert video for a show that faithfully represents the delightful decadence perpetrated on a willing audience for 2-1/2 hours each night. The concert disc starts with the Claymation-style animated video that introduced each concert, where the band hears about a killer planetoid hurtling toward Earth. Initially bummed that it might disrupt their reunion tour, the addled band members later try to knock the giant rock off course by shooting a silicone-enhanced groupie at it, with disastrous results.

Then the concert itself starts, with a midget wearing an evil clown mask dancing onstage as two fishnet-and-lingerie-clad strippers emerge from a box on the floor, simulate a sex act, then make way for the band, who roar into Shout At The Devil as flames shoot skyward and a red-and-white-striped big top curtain surrounds the stage. The strippers, or "aerialists and dancers," as the credits refer to them, are a recurring prop throughout the concert, providing something to look at once you're tired of guitarist Mick Mars' skeletal pallor, drummer Tommy Lee's clown makeup, vocalist Vince Neil's baby fat and bassist Nikki Sixx's best blood-spitting Gene Simmons impersonation. The most entertaining portion of the first disc comes on Tommy Cam, where Lee grabs a hand-held video camera and exhorts buxom female fans to take their tops off for the giant video screens, which dozens do. Their playing is tight throughout, and the set list includes hits like Looks That Kill, Too Young to Fall in Love, Home Sweet Home and Kickstart My Heart. There are also steaming covers of the Beatles' Helter Skelter, and the closing number, the Sex Pistols' Anarchy In The U.K. in which the entire ensemble -- midgets, strippers and musicians alike -- cavort in joyous celebration of, well, anarchy. Disc two is the predictable mix of bonus footage including interviews, backstage stuff, and four music videos. The two-disc set, clocking in at 210 minutes, is rated R for nudity, sexual images and language. Lots and lots of language, dude. Review by Wayne Parney.

Tanglewood Numbers
Silver Jews (Drag City)

On the new Silver Jews album, Tanglewood Numbers, David Berman sings, "God must be cutting the clouds into animals shapes." It's lines like these that have made Berman's alt-country outfit one of the most beguiling bands for the last decade. In a deep, Southern voice, Berman mixes romanticism and smirk -- but you'd have to look very carefully into his deadpan to see even the slightest crack of a smile. Tanglewood Numbers is the fifth album for the Silver Jews, and first since 2001's Bright Flight. While not known widely outside of indie circles, their 1998 disc, American Water, remains a near perfect album of Americana -- and includes possibly the greatest opening line of all-time: "In 1984, I was hospitalized for approaching perfection." The Silver Jews revolve around Berman -- a published poet, as well -- but has usually included contributions from Pavement alums Stephen Malkmus and Bob Nastanovich. They again play here, as does Will Oldham, the harrowing singer-songwriter. After a four-year wait, that lineup built large expectations for Tanglewood Numbers, which are unfortunately unrealized. A more rock 'n' roll, honky-tonk album, it features a fuller, overstuffed sound that often includes the singing of Berman's wife, Cassie. Tanglewood Numbers is also a deeply personal album of darkness and survival -- Berman has fought through drug problems in recent years. But outright statement isn't Berman's style. Instead, we have lines like, "sometimes a pony gets depressed." The lone great track on the album, though, is The Farmer's Hotel, a seven-minute story that pulses with American Water-style rhythm and Malkmus's trademark guitar work. While Tanglewood is inevitably disappointing, for David Berman, one of music's most underrated songwriters, that's a sliding scale. Even the lowest readings rank clouds above the rest. Review by J. Cole.

A Bigger Bang
The Rolling Stones (Virgin Records)

They're old, but they're not dead, yet. For 40-plus years, the Rolling Stones have strutted their way across rock 'n' roll's youthful terrain. Now A Bigger Bang, the band's first studio album since 1997's Bridges to Babylon, hammers home the fact that The Rolling Stones still have "it" -- and they're willing to grow. The famously sparring duo of Jagger and guitarist Keith Richards set aside their differences after drummer Charlie Watts developed throat cancer. With producer Don Was at the helm and longtime guitarist Ron Wood in the studio, Jagger and Richards scribed an array of their classically R&B-tinged rock tunes, plus some uncharacteristically confessional songs. Sweet Neo Con, a critical rant for this generally apolitical band, finds Jagger jabbing at President George Bush harder than Green Day: "You call yourself a Christian/ I think that you're a hypocrite/ You say you're a patriot/ I think you're a crock of ..."

On Biggest Mistake, the 62-year-old singer showcases a refreshing vulnerability, considering his famed take-no-prisoners sexuality (i.e. 1971's Brown Sugar and 1966's Under My Thumb). Here, Jagger has made "the biggest mistake of my life" by walking out of a relationship because of succumbing to past "rebel" ways. "I acted impatient, acted unkind/ I took her for granted," he sings. Jagger even admits, after realizing his wrongdoing, that he's "becoming a grouch," drinking on the couch and watching TV. This from the man who once crooned "I only get my rocks off while I'm sleeping." Similarly, Laugh, I Nearly Died grooves on Richards's bluesy momentum and Jagger's falsetto pleading and wailing groans -- a lost soul looking for love and wandering the world. Richards also rips open his soft side on This Place Is Empty, a slow piano-sprinkled number sweetly darkened by his deep, underrated drawl. But the Stones wouldn't be the Stones without reminding us of their boot-stomping heyday. Big swivelling riffs in Look What the Cat Dragged In and Driving Too Fast recall the band's penchant for sweaty guitar assaults. Jagger even contributes stellar slide guitar on the simple swagger of Back of My Hand. No, Jagger can't chicken-strut forever, and Richards has skimmed death's surface a few times already. But for now, time is still on the Stones' side. Yes it is. Review by S. Chou.

The Outsider
Rodney Crowell (Columbia)

With The Outsider, Rodney Crowell has delivered an album for anyone feeling disaffected with the modern world and its politics. At times funny, other times thought-provoking, frequently angry and nearly always rocking, Crowell follows in the footsteps of icons like Woody Guthrie and Bob Dylan who made great music while also commenting on current events. "Give to me my Aspen winter/Sorry 'bout the World Trade Center," Crowell sings in The Obscenity Prayer, a song that perfectly embodies the philosophy of many self-centred people who may feel the complexities of the modern world are beyond their reach. "I can't help the ones in need/I've got my own mouth to feed." On Don't Get Me Started, perhaps the song most tightly connected with current events, Crowell takes the position of a person looking to unwind at a bar. "When the coalition army doesn't come to your aid/You might as well face it there's no money to be made," he sings. "I had a dream last night I was the secretary of defence/And I came to the conclusion war doesn't make any sense." When the cover of Dylan's Shelter from the Storm comes at track 10, it plays almost like a prayer. And with Emmylou Harris on backing vocals, the song takes on an even more ethereal quality.  Review By S. Baer.

Souls Alike (Capitol)                                Bonnie Raitt

OFF THE WIRE...HOT, HOT, HOT!

Jazz greats, Carol Sloane, Patti Wicks and Marlene VerPlanck were among the chosen divas for the monthly feature article of the New York Monthly Herald, May issue.

New York's Jazz divas are making a big buzz. This time it is not Madonna, nor Ute Lemper. But, a glittering rosary of old and new faces. Pros by all means. The New York Monthly Herald listed them and raved about them. What is the deal? No deal, just paying tribute to well seasoned Jazz stars we cannot forget. Among the honorees are Carol Sloane, Marlene VerPlanck, Patti Wicks who is well-known in Europe, Opera primadona Alison England, Laurie Krauz, the gorgeous Hilary Cole, Paulette Attie and a newcomer by the name of Audrey Silver. It was in-depth article spreading over 25 pages. And who wrote this odyssey?  Maximillien de Lafayette, who else? That's right. If you did not read the article yet, you better do right now. It is fun and informative. What is so fascinating about the article is the unorthodox approach de Lafayette used in interviewing those singers. Apparently, de Lafayette contacted each one separately as if he was exclusively interviewing that "contactee" for the  feature article. In fact, he was interviewing all of them, using the same questions for the cover story. Brilliant. Slone's answers were as expected deep and straightforward. Kole's answers refreshing. Wicks, philosophical and informative. VerPlanck, bright like her music. Attie, right on. One lesson we could learn from the lengthy article; good material never dies, and solid talent lasts for ever. I assume, this was the main point of the write-up and interviews. -By Arlette Lagrange.