Another Blige 'Breakthrough'; another Biggie tribute (original) (raw)

Another Blige 'Breakthrough'; another Biggie tribute

R&B:

Mary J. Blige, The Breakthrough (* * * out of four) Blige has always been able to make you feel her pain, and these days, she has let you in on her joy as well. On her seventh album, Blige balances her trademark edginess with the personal happiness she has found in recent years. So while she gladly sings the praises of her man on songs such as No One Will Do, she still can get fed up with fools, offer encouragement to troubled sisters or confess that she carries plenty of Baggage. Producers including Dr. Dre, Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis and Will.i.am give her compelling musical backdrops. What has always set her apart is that her songs have a ring of truth. Blige still touches souls, by laying bare her own. —Steve Jones

Universal Music

Rap:

The Notorious B.I.G., Duets: The Final Chapter (* * * * ) The Notorious B.I.G. still looms large over hip-hop nearly nine years after he was murdered and this celebratory tribute demonstrates why. His timeless rhymes are spliced with new ones by an all-star lineup of rappers and singers who seem determined to prove themselves worthy of sharing space with an icon. It also brings home just how much was lost when he died. You can't help but wonder what might have been when listening to Living in Pain, which matches him with rivals Tupac and Nas, the haunting Get Your Grind On with the late Big Pun, or Whatchu Want with fellow Brooklynite Jay-Z. P. Diddy, who masterminded the album and enlisted the genre's top producers to put together his finest project in years, makes several appearances, including on the tone-setting It Has Been Said featuring Eminem and Obie Trice. One of the most potent tracks is Hold Ya Head with Bob Marley, while Ultimate Rush with Missy Elliott is the most playful. Widow Faith Evans provides the hook on the memory-lane trip 1970 Somethin' and his mother, Voletta Wallace, closes the album with the poem Love Is Everlasting. While this may well be the final chapter of B.I.G.'s legacy, it's clear that his light is not about to fade. —Jones

Pop/rock:

Bo Bice, The Real Thing (* * ) Calling your debut album The Real Thing isn't the most subtle way to court credibility, but then subtlety clearly isn't Bice's strong suit. Though the American Idol runner-up has cited classic rock influences, his earnest, sometimes overwrought crooning invites comparisons to latter-day frontmen such as Hootie and the Blowfish's Darius Rucker and Creed alum Scott Stapp. But a carefully selected stable of writers and producers lends enough pop nuance to make pining tunes such as Nothing Without You and Remember Me less cloying than a lot of contemporary rock fare. —Elysa Gardner

Ryan Adams & The Cardinals, Jacksonville City Nights (* ½) Adams' Cold Roses, released in May, was arguably his best album, but Jacksonville City Nights is quite possibly the prolific singer-songwriter's worst. His band makes amateurish attempts at playing country, Adams' always specious voice has deteriorated into off-key caterwauling, and the whole thing sounds like it was recorded in an empty water tank. The kind of album that makes you wonder what kind of dirt the artist has on his record label, Adams' Nights will have you praying for daybreak. —Brian Mansfield

Ryan Cabrera, You Stand Watching (* * ) They just don't make disposable, cookie-cutter teen idols the way they used to. Nowadays, such stars are expected to co-write their formulaic fodder with more experienced hitmakers, and to project the kind of tortured earnestness that label execs hope will make college girls swoon alongside their little sisters. In Cabrera's case, that means singing in a breathy bleat that evokes both bubblegum and modern rock, while nodding to contemporary-pop prototypes from Backstreet Boys-like balladry to Avril Lavigne-esque angst. You stand watching; I'll sit this one out. —Gardner

Country:

Lonestar, Coming Home( * * ½)The guys in Lonestar like songs that say things women wish men would say to them. Things such as, "If I don't make your life a heaven here on earth, I'll die tryin'." And "Baby, come sit down beside me, I wanna hear all about your day." That's all fine and good, though, to be fair, most women couldn't keep a straight face if their men told them, "There's a fire deep inside me, and it's burning just for you." So Lonestar is really selling a fantasy notion of relationships — the country-music equivalent of a romance novel. —Mansfield