Judas Priest (3 stars)
Angel of Retribution
On Angel of Retribution, their first album in 15 years with original lead singer Rob Halford, Judas Priest do everything possible to announce their return as the world's premier heavy-metal band. While they aren't about to reclaim that throne, they do deliver a solid set of 10 new songs in the vein of their best-known work. Starting with the lead track, "Judas Rising," Halford and his trademark high-pitched wail proclaim Priest the ass-kickingest band in the land, backed up by a brutal twin-guitar assault from Glenn Tipton and K.K. Downing.
Nothing on Retribution comes close to Priest classics like "Breakin' the Law" or "Hell Bent for Leather," although "Wheels of Fire" has a nice old-school feel. The rest of the songs continue the band's evolution into harder-edged material, and don't sound that much different from the work they did with replacement singer Tim "Ripper" Owens.
The best (or worst) thing about the album is the last track, "Lochness," a 13-minute epic about the Loch Ness Monster. The kind of thing you'd expect more from Dio or Helloween than Priest, "Lochness" is unabashedly silly and over the top, but also strangely compelling. For hard-core Priest fans, Retribution will be a welcome return to form, but casual listeners are better off sticking with the greatest-hits packages.
Moby (2.5 stars)
Hotel
What to make of Moby's latest album, Hotel, produced in partnership with the uber-high-end chain W Hotels and uber-left-wing Laura Dawn, creative events director for MoveOn.org? What to say when the ex-poster-boy for techno and Emenim nemesis shelves his sampler and co-releases it with Teany Book: Stories, Food, Romance, Cartoons and, of course, Tea, along with the requisite book-signings. How do you judge a two-CD package, in which one disc is full of ambient techno but buried and the other is a hodge-podge of weak attempts at rock 'n' roll music and even weaker lyrics.
In the same way Moby doesn't seem sure of which way he wants to market his ninth album (fancy corporate or grassroots radical), he doesn't seem sure of what he wants to say, and that becomes the Achilles heel that brings the whole project crashing down.
The main disc, bookended with atmospheric tracks, not counting the one "Hidden Track" (and what's the point these days of hiding tracks that instantly show up on your iPod?), consists of 15 tracks of mindless pop, songs that are mostly forgotten the instant they end. Perhaps that's the point, for as Moby explains in the liner notes, he is fascinated with the transience of hotels: "They're incredibly intimate spaces that are scoured every 24 hours and made to look completely anonymous." But like performance-art pieces meant to test the audience's patience, it is a failure in its success.
"Beautiful" can either be seen as a humorous ironic take on celebrity relationships (like, say, with Natalie Portman) or as a boastful, scorn-filled take on celebrity relationships. A slowed-down, nearly spoken-word cover of New Order's "Temptation" succeeds in completely remaking the '80s dancefloor hit with Dawn's vocals substituting for Bernard Sumner.
Stronger by far is the second album, and it begs the question of why not release it solo. Eleven tracks of ambient music designed to "relax even the most neuotic insomniac," it's reminescent of Jean Michel Jarre and Brian Eno. Don't be surprised when you hear it playing over the W's gift-store loudspeakers.
Faith Evans (4 stars)
The First Lady
Grammys don't necessarily equal gravitas. Take the case of Faith Evans.
Despite five nominations and one win—her three albums, Faith, Keep the Faith and Faithfully all went platinum—the Florida-born songstress seemed doomed to never outgrow her status as the former Mrs. Biggie Smalls/P. Diddy protégé/singing version of MC Lyte. All of which makes The First Lady such an accomplishment.
While much will be made about the production contributions of can't-miss beatmakers like the Neptunes, Evans' voice is the star of the show. It's the voice of a woman unleashed from Diddy's pop-rap constraints, free to explore its strengths and weaknesses, cascading over love-song lyrics both contemplative ("Mesmerized," "Tru Love") and coquettish ("Jealous," "Catching Feelings").
"Hope," contrasting solemn lyrics from speed-rapping Chicagoan Twista with Evans' inspirational crooning, has received the most commercial burn—it's on the sound track to the Samuel L. Jackson film, Coach Carter.
However, "Again" is easily the most standout track, an inspirationally redemptive tale detailing how Evans' troubles—Biggie's infidelity and his still-unsolved 1997 murder, tabloid rumors about her tryst with the late Tupac Shakur, Oprah-like weight problems, a 2004 arrest in Atlanta for possession of marijuana and cocaine—have made her the woman she is.
"If I had to do it all again, I've learned so much from my mistakes," she sings, "that's how I know He's watching me."
There's a refreshing maturity throughout The First Lady, a maturity born of enduring life's slings and arrows and recovering, scarred but beautiful.
Though no longer the queen of Bad Boy, Evans is certainly her own first lady.
Beck (4 stars)
Guero
Few musicians have been showered with superlatives and success like Beck.
Since his debut release, Mellow Gold in 1994, the word "genius" has been affixed to his reviews like a name tag on a fast-food worker. And it is true that the problems that plague the rest of the fragmented music scene touch Beck's music as virtues.
On Odelay, Mutations and Sea Change, Beck managed to cover ground from hip-hop to folk-rock and a dozen other genres with equal ease while always maintaining a distinctive sound. But what people really love about Beck has always been his unpredictability and restlessness. Yet, on Guero, Beck, reunited with the Dust Brothers, is for the first time playing it safe.
The single "E-Pro" sounds like a song by the same guy who did "Loser," and whatever Guero's other merits, this is surely a disappointment to those expecting yet another sea change from Beck. But aside from the familiar sound, Guero is a remarkable disc in large part because underneath all the stylistic shimmy is monster songwriting. There are great tracks littered throughout Guero, like "Girl," "Hell Yes," and "Scarecrow." In fact, there is not a stinker or filler among the 13 songs here. Now in his 30s, Beck may no longer get crazy with cheese wiz, yet on Guero he manages to make a virtue even of his newfound predictability. A genius, or what?