The biggest of hardcore fans will of course need to own this album, because they believed in his potential.
Sade can wait as long as she likes between albums and there will always be an audience waiting.
The album brims with a revolutionary undercurrent.
Listening to Production gives one a more complete sense of Madonna’s talent for recruiting the next big thing.
Gung Ho is Smith’s flawed yet admirable attempt to keep it spinning in the age of change.
To Badu, music equals inspiration.
The Smashing Pumpkins’s final major label release is at once sad and strangely prophetic.
The special limited edition is a double-disc set that includes one disc of studio material and a bonus disc of live and previously unreleased tracks.
Her voice, viewed by some as one of the best of our time, is the album’s centerpiece and it rarely leaves the spotlight.
Jennifer Lopez is a child of the ’80s.
Much like Moby, Fatboy Slim continues to prove that techno can have soul and that it’s a legitimate subgenre of rock.
With her new album, Lil’ Kim finds new and inventive ways to demand oral pleasure from her men.
U2 wants a hit…bad.
While Tosca’s Opera was sexy and decadent, Suzuki is enlightened and even chaste by comparison.
Brisebois’s voice is distinctive and timeless, light enough for pop radio but strong enough for a good wail.
More than a few songs here would fit nicely nestled between tracks on Homogenic.
Warning misses some of the youthful vigor of Dookie and the exciting rebellion that punk once brought to the mainstream.
Harvey seems to have set out to purposely make a New York album, and its flaw is in its all-too-obvious intention.
The songs here seem to be the result of a severely maladjusted individual rather than an intentional satirist.
No Angel is a sleepy response to the torture of lost love, its folky pop quietly accented with elements of electronica.