Mixing rap and stand-up comedy, Incredibad makes you want to dance and laugh at the same time.

The Lonely Island is Akiva Schaffer, Jorma Taccone and Andy Samberg, who are best known for their “Digital Shorts” on Saturday Night Live.

Possibly the two best songs on the cd are “J**z in my Pants” and “I’m on a Boat.”
Both songs have hysterical music videos that accompany them.

“J**z in my Pants” features Justin Timberlake, though he does not actually sing throughout the entire song, simply playing the janitor in the background.

“I’m on a Boat” features T-Pain and details how this guy wins a boat ride and feels like the coolest person alive because of it.

T-pain sings “Yeah, never thought I’d be on a boat/It’s a big blue watery road (yeah)/Poseidon! Look at me, oh (all hands on deck)/Never thought I’d see the day/When a big boat comin’ my way/Believe me when I say, I f***** a mermaid”

The song is absurd and completely uncool, but so funny you cannot help but want to play it over and over again.

Plus the fact that, putting T-Pain in a song pretty much ensures a money-making hit.
The CD also features Jack Black, Nora Jones and E-40.

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This group of sexy females uses its vocal styling and hip-hop beats to engage the listener.

The sex appeal is the main focus of all songs on this cd.

The songs may be a little girly and club-like, but if you’re looking for light lyrics and a fun experience, PCD is for you.

Each track has its unique style, bringing the entire cd together. They take a step back and redo the old favorite, Tainted Love.

Lead singer of the group, Nicole Scherzinger’s deep, sultry voice brings a certain saucy dynamic to the songs.

Snoop Dogg lends his voice in the track, Buttons, giving the song an extra-special flair.

Their first single, and most well-known song on the album, is Don’t Cha which features the talented Busta Rhymes.

They combine a softly thumping baseline with quiet and provocative lyrics.

Not only are there upbeat “club-like” songs on the album, but there are a few slower songs mixed in as well.

The song, Stickwitu, plays on love through hard times.

The lyric, “So don’t you worry about, people hanging around, they ain’t bringing us down,”  shows the softer side of relationships and how to make them work.

In the track, Beep, it is unclear what exactly is being said about since a main lyric is the sound of a beep.

Another lyric frequently used is “ha ha ha” in place of actual words.

Will I. Am.’s whimsical talents add flavor and excitement to this track.

“I’ma do my thing while you’re playing wit cha –beep-“ is a line repeated throughout the song.

Overall, the cd has something for everyone.

From love, R&B melodies, to the hopping club hits, these tracks are ‘Doll-licious.”

I give the cd a rating of B-.

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Here’s a little context: when this live, solo performance in Ann Arbor, MI, was recorded, Young was only 22 years old, had previously enjoyed moderate success in Buffalo Springfield (they had that “Stop, children, what’s that sound, everybody look what’s going’ down” song which was apparently the soundtrack to the Vietnam War, if Hollywood is to be trusted.

I guess it was just constantly blaring out of speakers in the jungle while firefights were raging) and his first solo album would be released approximately a week later.

Sugar Mountain is the third installment in the Archives collection of some of the best live Neil Young performances spanning the course of his career. Young, backed only by his acoustic guitar, sings songs from his debut album as well as others he wrote for Buffalo Springfield.

His voice is high and wavering as it also is today, and something about the stripped down nature of the performance lends a power and immediacy absent from the more fleshed-out album versions. He plays in front of what appears to be a small crowd at a small venue, and Young spends a lot of time chatting between songs and making jokes, sometimes at his own expense.

It’s a side of Young most fans have never really heard or seen, and is made even more interesting when one considers the extraordinary career that would follow this performance from 40 years ago.

If you’re a serious Neil Young fan, you’ll probably want to get this album because it’s remarkable document of a musical icon who’s just coming into his own as an artist and a performer.

It might be a good place for the uninitiated to test the waters as well.

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For instance, on Up Through There, the recycled Shop Boyz instrumental gets the treatment from Dro and LA who nearly does all of his damage by reciting a bunch of rhyming abbreviations (“White GC/ NYB, Yung DC/ ABG { Uahh }”).

Dro’s presence is more welcome than anything, including a few subpar producer efforts and a Lil Boosie feature on the uber-trapper 36 O’s.  Even though fans of the I Am Legend mixed tape already know what to expect from D’Juan Hart, they’ll be disappointed in the least to be reintroduced to the Makin’ All That Money track from Dro’s previous street classic.  However, Dro does take the time to exhibit a new talent that hopefully doesn’t get the Vocoder treatment : singing (and quite harmoniously and on-key which is definitely too much to ask of an artist nowadays; rapper or not.)

But there are tremendous downfalls on this mixtape such as Yung La’s ever predictable track Blessings, which as you can hypothesize from the title has everything to do with a former street-thug with a mohawk appreciating the “blessing’s” instilled in his life by someone omnipotent.

He lists his gratefulness for the “drugs” and for the “guns” and he doesn’t get any less atypical than that for the rest of the album.  The mixed tape would also go good without side orders such as its title track which might be the greatest example of hip-hop needing to rid itself of any types of voice enhancement.

LA’s verses are very dense and not in the matter that Lupe Fiasco describes his songs which are layered with entendres but in the way your mother would respond to listening to Dunn Dunn.  Thankfully Young Dro, the rap game’s Robert Neville (yes I just coined that phrase) salvages this otherwise ashtray of an album, with the same type of hip-hop quotables that put him in your Ipods in the first place (“Im bumping boy, Tonka Toy/ Chevy look like Almond Joy”).

The skits are hilarious on Dro’s part also but whereas Young Dro takes a stance as a rising force on Grand Hustle’s roster, Yung LA’s overt corniness , no matter how relevant it may be to drug dealers, brings down the album’s rating as all you math majors can figure.

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But in order to truly appreciate the finer things in life, one must also experience the bad, am I right?  Yin and yang!   In the spirit of ‘taking one for the team,’ consider this CD review my personal form of self-flagellation, as if I am that crazy albino guy who whips himself for penance in The DaVinci Code.

I am eating every last bite of this huge, horrible sandwich so that none of you will ever have to.

I do not watch American Idol, so I have no idea who David Cook is.  I have a sneaking suspicion, however, that he is not so good.  I base this solely on a Google image search that revealed to me Mr. Cook’s edgy, rock and roll-by-way-of- Abercrombie & Fitch-style!  I think he’s trying to look dangerous, but dangerous men do not use hair care products.  Let’s see how edgy and radical his music is.

The first song is called Declaration and it involves a piano and overwrought, emotional singing.  Twelve seconds in, Cook sings “I’m lookin’ for that magic rainbow on the horizon.”  Me too, David.  Me too.

The next song starts out with rock and roll guitars!  Wow is this guy going to strap on a pair and belt it out or what?  The answer is: no, he will not.  This is a rock power ballad with acoustic guitars and a country sensibility.  I guess you have to cover every demographic possible in order to make it on American Idol.

Song 3:  this sounds like that stupid Creed band.  No thanks.

The next track on the album is called Come Back To Me.  Maybe it’s about all of Cook’s friends who ditched him when he started getting all weird and serious about singing karaoke.  Come back to him!
He came, won the world’s biggest karaoke competition, and then put out a crappy album!  Come back!

The next three songs all seemed to blend together.  From what I remember, they were mid-tempo power ballads dripping with, well, passion is not the right word.  They were dripping with something that was just awful.

I about had it with David Cook.  He did not run off with my woman or shoot my dog or anything like that, but he is treading on thin ice here.

Whoa!  The next song is another piano ballad, but Cook is singing with power and intensity.  Some of the lyrics are about “holding your hair out of your face,” which I guess is supposed to be romantic.

For me, it conjures images of Cook holding some girl’s hair out of her face while she is puking all over his tour bus.  Wow, I think I just made David Cook kind of interesting!

Well that did not last long.  There were a few more songs on the disc, but frankly I lost interest and stopped listening.  Sorry.  This disc was not horrible, it was just so aggressively bland that I could not take any more of it.

I know these American Idol contestants get hooked up with top-notch producers and “hitmakers” and I suppose there is some measure of craft involved in the whole thing, but what a soulless exercise in mediocrity.

Luckily, I do not care about any of this stuff, because I do not have to.  But, if this is your thing, I say to you:

“Middle-aged women and young girls rejoice, for the soundtrack to your imaginary romantic lives has arrived!  Behold your muse, he of the strategically tousled hair. Ladies, guard your hearts and gird your loins as I present to you the one, the only: David Cook!  David Cook, everyone, David Cook!”

Grade: A+++

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They have been making great music for 30 years though, so there is no reason to be too ashamed of yourself for liking them.  Who among us has not pretended at one time or another that they were dancing awkwardly on a cliff above the ocean with a head full of hairspray and pancake makeup pining away for the love of some girl, like in that Just Like Heaven video?  None of us, that is who. 4:13 Dream was originally recorded as a double album, with one side half being the happy, poppy Cure and the other half being the depressed, run a warm bath and sharpen your razor Cure.

I’m a fan of both iterations, but the band decided to keep the upbeat material for 4:13 Dream and release the downer stuff at a later date.  It’s a pretty solid, if not especially groundbreaking album, but after 30 years it’s nice to see Smith still has some emotional and melodic depths left to plumb.

The songs on 4:13 Dream cover some familiar territory for Cure fans—hopeful and bittersweet, with a few quirky numbers that hearken back to late 80’s albums like Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me much more than their considerably darker recent albums.   Why, it almost sounds as if The Cure is having fun in the studio!  I can’t imagine those guys having fun.

Do you think it is fun to party with The Cure?  Somehow I think they drink expensive wine and discuss poetry when they party.

At any rate, I would recommend this album to anyone who likes the more upbeat, radio-friendly Cure that became famous in the 80’s and 90s.  It’s not great, and there are much more essential albums in their canon, of course, but 4:13 Dream is a pretty satisfying listen.  I give it a B-. It should also be noted that as Robert Smith edges closer to 50, he is starting to look really, really creepy in the lipstick and eye shadow, and I’m thinking he could fill in for Heath Ledger if they make another Batman movie.  Just throwing that out there.

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Lewis is the rare Hollywood success story, the former TV child-star who avoids the pitfalls of fame and goes on to become a respected singer and songwriter in adulthood.

Lewis’s rich, soulful voice and her poignant, witty, songwriting-as-confessional approach really define Rilo Kiley’s overall sound and over the past few years she has become the face of the band, despite sharing singing and songwriting duties with band mate Blake Sennett.

In addition to her lovely singing voice, Lewis is a totally hot chick!  Superficial as that may be, it surely accounts for some of the band’s popularity.  Speaking on behalf of beautiful people everywhere, I can assure all of you common rabble that the gift of physical beauty is both a blessing and a curse.  Such is our lot in life, carrying this burden. Pity us.

Acid Tongue is the second solo album Lewis has released apart from her output with Rilo Kiley, and a marked departure from the pop-oriented material that comprised Rilo Kiley’s 2007 release, Under The Blacklight.

Lewis veers from country to gospel on the gorgeous title track, and then from southern rock to garage rock on more gritty, down and dirty tunes like Next Messiah and See Fernando.  Throughout the course of Acid Tongue, Lewis shows herself adept at crafting an eclectic and diverse album that manages to remain stylistically and tonally cohesive.

Lyrically, Acid Tongue explores the same themes Lewis sings about in Rilo Kiley.  Jilted love and broken-hearted regret color the character sketches Lewis creates of the down and out in her home, Los Angeles.  At times she reminds me of a contemporary Patsy Cline, only transplanted from the open plains to the city.

She has got that same world-weary twang, though, of someone older and wiser who’s done a lot of living.  Pretty impressive for someone who spent their childhood appearing in sitcoms and made-for-TV movies.

Special guests, as wide-ranging as M. Ward, Elvis Costello, and Chris Robinson of the Black Crowes all make appearances on Acid Tongue.

I would be pretty stoked if I was recording an album and I could get those guys to sing on it.  I think that reflects just how ambitious this album is, and the respect Lewis has earned for herself due to the quality of the music she has been creating for the past 10 years.

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Considering looming beefs with local and mainstream artists that produced volumes of DVDs of their interviews criticizing both his authenticity and his loyalty to the G-Code (a strict policy which crucifies legal informants), TI faced equal fire from the streets as he did from the government when his federal case ended.   While his legal dilemma was brought upon by a mind state of both his TI & TIP egos, TIP undoubtedly goes in on Paper Trail and leaves TI very few guest appearances.

Fans of Clifford Harris have, in fact, been waiting for this resurgence of this careless, purposeful leader.

TIP’s presence is evident throughout the first five tracks of the album.  On I’m Illy, a fascinating take on Lil Wayne’s Milli, TI states “Every single thing I ever did was done heavily/Rap until you’re 70, still ain’t no catchin me.”

He proclaims his realness with an unmatched fervor.  His delivery is consistent and he never really bores you with a verse outside of the only real “TI” track on the album, Whatever You Like.  With that aside, On Top of The World is definitely the standout track of the album despite the countless hip-hop quotables on Swagger Like Us.

If you’re one of the fans that like to read the track listing then you would suppose that you are not in for much of a surprise after you read that Ludacris is featured but Luda’s verse absolutely buries the instrumental as does its pairing with hopeful Southern phenom B.O.B.’s hook.

The obvious singles on the album even point out TIP’s sometime underrated lyrical dexterity.  While artists are often recognized for their genuineness, they don’t step up to the plate in the same manner as TIP.

The Rihanna-featured Live Your Life, is very reminiscent of Wiz Khalifa’s techno inspired Say Yeah, however, TIP makes the track timeless notwithstanding very similar subject matter.  The look to Swizz Beatz’ production for another single that makes those that won’t spend over $100 for an accessory feel bad in the club Swing Ya Rag was one of the wisest decision on TIP’s part (not to discredit the exceptional contributions of DJ Toomp [56 Bars], Danja [No Matter What], and the omnipresent Drumma Boy [My Life Your Entertainment, What’s Up What Haapnin, You Ain’t Missin Nothin]).  Truth be told, if any southern rapper’s (Lil Wayne included) pinnacle is decided by a well crafted body of work, it’s TIP.  Maybe after he cools down it will be TI.

The CD is well worth the listen and money, TI appears to have topped himself. Through his lyrics and decisions in choosing guest artists, he has obviously matured since his last album and has cemented his position in the Rap world.

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Obviously not all rappers are immune to these throes to the throne. Amongst these rappers is Nelly and despite his consistency and amazing record sales, Nelly’s staggering fall from grace hasn’t been more evident before his latest effort, Brass Knuckles.

Nelly’s relevance is currently in question despite his success and while his legend builds his allure falters.

You would expect Nelly to use this album as an opportunity to reinvent himself after the uneventful 2008 summer run of the album’s potential single Wadsyaname, which was subsequently dropped from the album. Nelly does little in this aspect except in some outings.

The introductory track features near street credibility casualty, Rick Ross almost sub -consciously making light of his CO situation with a pivotally gangsta Nelly.

The album face dives downhill from there, though it does cushion its fall a few times in mid-tumble.

On, LA, Nelly invites reputable guest appearances from 213 counterparts, Nate Dogg and Snoop Dogg, but what creative mind introduced the idea of giving Nate Dogg a verse over Snoop?

These are the mistakes that veteran emcees just should not make especially on such crucial records in their career.

The dull, Usher-featured Long Night is nothing but filler, which gives a welcome segue to the return of the St. Lunatics (who appear on Chill later in the track listing) on Lie, which is not anything musically atypical of a rap group but very ambitious.

Self-Esteem builds up false anticipation with Nelly verses that are average but bearable which lead to a Chuck D verse which only lasts (GASP!) twenty seconds!

You mean to tell me that I sat through 2:40 of Nelly waxing political in a way which lessens his intellectual debates on BET’s Hip Hop Vs. America, just to hear Chuck D deliver a mere eight bars?

The skid leads to an ultimate faceplant for Nelly this time around. Plenty of his disappointed fans will be quick to assess that Nelly should have turned his hat around in the cover art because this album was so much more likable three years ago when 50 Cent did it and entitled it The Massacre!

You mean to tell me that I sat through 2:40 of Nelly waxing political in a way which lessens his intellectual debates on BET’s Hip Hop Vs. America, just to hear Chuck D deliver a mere eight bars?

The skid leads to an ultimate faceplant for Nelly this time around. Plenty of his disappointed fans will be quick to assess that Nelly should have turned his hat around in the cover art because this album was so much more likable three years ago when 50 Cent did it and entitled it The Massacre.

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Since 2001, the NYC-based quintet have been releasing albums that have garnered critical acclaim and have been described as an experimental, avant-garde blend of rock and electronica with soul-tinged, multi-layered vocals, distorted bass, and non-traditional rock elements such as horns and strings.

I have always liked the fact that their music has a sort of dark and brooding tension that never descends into overwrought goth silliness (my apologies to Hot Topic patrons and “cutters”; your pain is special, really, it is) and tends to have that “gets stuck in your head” catchiness that demands multiple listens.

With the release of Dear Science, TVOTR leaves the rock behind and heads to higher, funkier ground.

When I say funky, I mean funky like the polar opposite of Crosby, Stills & Nash.
It kind of sounds like they were listening to a lot of Prince before writing this album, just not the parts with the insane Prince guitar solos.

I am totally digging Dear Science and couldn’t stop moonwalking and cabbage-patching while listening to it and my friends got worried because that is not something I normally do and it was almost Intervention-time like that show on A&E.

This is not to say TVOTR has put out some mindless dance album. The songs are lush and sonically dense with layer upon layer of guitars, drums, horns and electronic chirps and orchestrated noise.

The net effect is an album full of shimmering, aching anthems that straddle the line between melancholy and hopeful.

It is sad and pretty without being sappy and it’s hard not to bob your head along while listening.  Love Dog and Family Tree stand out as my personal favorites; swirling and transcendent ballads that rise from sparse, orchestrated softness to triumphant affirmation and edification.

It is heady stuff, and yes, I am in fact, a complete pussy.

Dear Science represents an interesting change in direction from a band who has always defied labels and attempts at categorization.

They have reigned in some of the rock and roll bombast of previous efforts and replaced it with more focused R & B influences while retaining their signature etherealness and wide pallet of musical brushes.

Dear Science is much better than that strained metaphor of mine suggests.  They are much better at music than I am at writing about them and I like them a lot, but just as friends.

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