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"Uncle." (Should it be "Aunt"?)

With her new album, "E=MC2" (Island Def Jam), Mariah Carey has assembled a collection of perfect little pop pleasures that will charm even the staunchest naysayer.

Carey worked through nearly all her various personal and musical issues throughout the long, six-times-platinum run of 2005's "The Emancipation of Mimi." And all the success shows on "E=MC2."

Not only does Carey get to work with all the best hit makers around - from the unstoppable T-Pain to the masterful Jermaine Dupri - but she has a little extra bounce herself, the deserved swagger of knowing for sure that your ideas are going to work.

There were songs on "Mimi" that felt a little forced, a little too desperate to be liked, but there's none of that on "E=MC2." In fact, the first notes of the album come from one of her patented high-register, dog-whistle flourishes that get her so much grief.

The secret to success for R.E.M., like all great rock bands, is balance.

Great front men only take you so far - same goes for great songwriters or great guitarists. One may get you a good band, but all of them are needed for greatness.

 "Accelerate" (Warner Bros.) marks R.E.M.'s return to greatness, a return to singer Michael Stipe, guitarist Peter Buck and bassist-singer Mike Mills all pulling hard in the same direction.

By road-testing all the songs and honing them to pack maximum punch in two- or three-minute bursts, R.E.M. eliminates the filler and sometimes meandering flourishes of their recent work. The opening one-two-three punch of "Living Well Is the Best Revenge," "Man-Sized Wreath" and the first single, "Supernatural Superserious," puts any doubts to rest.

Like so many struggling businesses these days, the music industry is all about outsourcing.

When a veteran hits a rough sales patch or an artistic drought, the fixers pair them up with younger artists or hot producers to modernize the sound and raise the radio-friendliness. After all, it's generally easier to renovate a previous star than to build a whole new one.

Well, Bruce Springsteen is one boss unwilling to outsource his own issues. He and the E Street Band can handle it all internally. On their new album, "Magic" (Columbia), they inject energy into their classic sound by embracing elements of the alternative rock movement - which was, in part, a rebellion launched against Springsteen's domination in the "Dancing in the Dark" '80s. And it certainly seems to agree with them.

Not only is "Magic" Springsteen's most accessible album, start to finish, since 1987's "Tunnel of Love," it is closest thematically to "Born in the U.S.A.," a slice of American life and its mix of ups and downs. The first single, the straightforward rocker "Radio Nowhere," is a strong example of Springsteen's game plan for "Magic," with its '80s alternative rock guitar riffs and its search for desire.

It's a switch from his recent work, where Springsteen has had more pressing concerns. "The Rising" was his attempt to make sense of the Sept. 11 attacks and do his part to begin the healing process. "Devils and Dust" was his way of protesting the direction the country was heading, as well as the war in Iraq. And "We Shall Overcome: The Seeger Sessions" was a way to show how history could be applied to the present.

On "Magic," all that is pushed aside. It's about more leisurely pursuits - about "Girls in Their Summer Clothes," working for your love and all that entails.

If the previous albums were about effecting change in the country, "Magic" takes that change as a given. That allows Springsteen the chance to focus on the music again, as well as the lyrics. It lets him experiment with new sounds (well, new-to-him sounds) to update his more classic themes.

PHOTO by Danny Clinch / Columbia Records 

Annie Lennox makes heartbreak sound beautiful.

Her gorgeous voice radiates elegance and melancholy and defiance, regardless of its surroundings. And on her latest album, "Songs of Mass Destruction" (RCA), she applies that voice to hearts broken by relationships, by warfare and by unnecessary suffering.

Lennox is still most effective alone at her piano - her unforgettably wrenching performance of "Why?" at Live 8 is a prime example - and that hasn't changed. "Lost," which Lennox takes from a quiet hum to the upper reaches of her range, is touchingly simple. And "Smithereens" will join the ranks of great Lennox ballads, with its Beatlesque swells and soulful vocal flourishes, as she declares "Everybody has a broken heart."

For "Songs of Mass Destruction," though, she also tries to balance the ballads with upbeat numbers. She rocks out a bit on "Love Is Blind." She hits the clubs for "Coloured Bedspread." She combines soul, world beat and a bit of hip-hop on the future anthem "Womankind." And she creates her own "We Are the World" moment, uniting the likes of Madonna, Pink, Shakira and 20 other female stars on "Sing," which will benefit Treatment Action Campaign, which raises funds to treat and educate those with AIDS in South Africa.

Lennox makes it seem so effortless to sweep listeners up in her wondrous vocals that it's easy to forget how hard it is to craft songs this well. Of course, that's the mark of a true master at the top of her game, where Lennox clearly works these days. (Grade: A)

Listen to "Songs of Mass Destruction" here [VH1]

DROPS for 10.2.07 [Newsday]

On its previous two albums, My Chemical Romance's ambitions have outstripped their execution - a good band striving for greatness by walking the line between bombast and grandeur.

That doesn't really change on "The Black Parade" (Warner Bros.), since My Chem's reach expands exponentially the more proficient its grasp gets. But, man, have they gotten better at taking risks.

The leadoff single, "Welcome to the Black Parade," promises the world in just over five minutes - a call-to-arms to become "the savior of the broken, the beaten and the damned," a demonstration of how punk-pop can be an effective venue for ideas beyond broken hearts, and the centerpiece of a concept album about death and dying. And, despite the odds, it delivers on every point.

What makes "The Black Parade" such a thrill is that it swings for the fences like that on every track. Sometimes they strike out - on the crazy "Mama," which features a cameo from Liza Minnelli. But, most of the time they connect, in a variety of styles, no less.

"Dead!" bounces manically from Queen-like bluster to stylish punk-pop. "Teenagers" is a grandiose grind, built on testosterone and T. Rex-styled guitars. "I Don't Love You" opens like Coldplay's "Yellow," before turning into an anthem like Green Day's "Wake Me When September Ends." (Producer Rob Cavallo, who worked on Green Day's "American Idiot," helps My Chemical Romance build a concept album that's just as good.)

"The Black Parade" is fearless and outrageous, yet melodic enough to hook even the most casual listener. It sets the bar incredibly high for any band looking to be the next leader of the punk-pop/emo scene. ("The Black Parade," in stores today; Grade: A)

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Listen to "Welcome to the Black Parade" here

Though Ludacris continues to beef with Oprah over rap's respectability, he really should be thanking her. In his quest to prove her wrong about hip-hop's intellectual heft, Luda has turned "Release Therapy" (Def Jam) into his best album yet - alternating his playful rhymes with a newfound interest in a world beyond No. 1 spots and lick-lick-lick-licking you from your head to your toes.

On "Runaway Love," which features Mary J. Blige, Ludacris creates his version of 2Pac's "Brenda Had a Baby," telling tales of teenage runaways trying to escape abusive parents, drive-by shootings and unplanned pregnancies. He outlines their stories of how they were "forced to think that hell is a place called home," as Blige's gospel wail punctuates their pains.

It's an intellectual depth that has been hinted at in Ludacris' acting, but not in his rapping. "I'm 28 years old, it just now started making sense," he raps in the gospel-steeped "Freedom of Preach," explaining how his daughter has changed his life and how he's now searching for redemption.

Of course, Luda hasn't given up on his good-time, partying side completely. The slithering "Money Maker," the album's first single, and the adventurous, electro-influenced "Girls Gone Wild" are the best track the Neptunes have put out in years, while "Woozy," his duet with R. Kelly, is a surefire hit.

With "Release Therapy," Ludacris boots Kanye West from his throne and should up the ante for upcoming releases from Jay-Z, 50 Cent and Eminem if they want to be considered hip-hop's best for the year. ("Release Therapy," in stores today; grade: A)

Listen to "Release Therapy" here

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Johnny Cash's final album "American V: A Hundred Highways" (American/ Lost Highway) is a heartbreaker.

Even without the back story of it being The Man in Black's final album - written and recorded between November 2002 and Sept. 12, 2003, the day Cash died of complications from respiratory failure - "American V" would still be a stunning meditation on death and dying.

The 12 tracks don't all deal with death - whether to accept or fight it. But it is almost tangible on the album. It hangs in the air, informing his song choices, his delivery and, especially, his voice.

The Dixie Chicks could have turned tail. They could have been ready, ready, ready, ready to run back to their mega-platinum, chart-topping ways, their pickin'-and-a-grinnin', their sassy songs of sweetness and light.

America - especially the Rushies and the Robertson-religious red-staters who have been calling for their pretty little heads for years - loves a good apology.

Well, the Dixie Chicks offer no apologies on their new "Taking the Long Way" (Open Wide/Sony) album. Natalie Maines, Martie Maguire and Emily Robison have chosen to stand their ground. And if that means a fight, well so be it.

"Taking the Long Way" isn't about partisan bickering or George W. Bush-bashing. That would have been too easy. Instead, the Chicks outline, in sometimes sweeping, sometimes intimate terms, what they believe is worth the fight: morals, family, fun, love and hope.

The happy-go-lucky Red Hot Chili Peppers have never really been known for consistency, ambition or focus. Yet, unexpectedly, on its ninth outing, 23 years into its tumultuous career, the Californication band has somehow built the album of its career.

As its name suggests, "Stadium Arcadium" (Warner Bros.) is huge - a mammoth 28 songs, clocking in at more than two hours. It will be a huge hit as well, packed to the gills with songs that will be dominating rock radio for months - maybe years - to come. The first single, "Dani California," already tops the rock charts. However, any one of two dozen other songs could be just as successful.

Unlike most double albums, or most of the Peppers' previous albums, for that matter, "Stadium Arcadium" isn't bloated by filler or indulgences. It is hard-hitting from start to finish, a quantum leap forward - from Anthony Kiedis' new vocal subtleties and John Frusciante's fiery guitar solos to the more effective use of Flea's ever-stellar bass work and Chad Smith's muscular drumming. It's a surprise similar to Green Day's "American Idiot" (Warner Bros.) album, but without the unifying thread of the rock opera format or a "redneck agenda" to rage against.

Prince is one of those rare artists who can change the music industry climate with a wave of his well-manicured hand.

He tamed the Internet tidal wave with his online music club years before anyone else figured out that he was right. He built the price of his "Musicology" CD into the cost of his concert ticket and then handed out the album for free, creating a storm of controversy that netted him an unexpected hit along with his successful tour. And, of course, Prince made "Purple Rain."

He manages such feats because he is a risk-taker as well as a brilliant musician. When you take such chances, though, they don't always pay off. And his albums in the 19 years since his landmark "Sign O' the Times" have been remarkably hit-and-miss.

Prince has never made a bad album. But he hasn't made a great one in quite some time, either.

Well, folks, that drought is over.

"Get off the bandwagon! Put down the handbook!" Arctic Monkeys singer Alex Turner chants in "Fake Tales of San Francisco," unveiling the British sensation's success secrets in a handy, easy-to-remember sing-along.

See, it's not that the Arctic Monkeys are doing anything revolutionary on their debut, "Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not" (Domino). We've heard roaring guitars and snarling singers before.

What makes everyone go bananas for the Arctic Monkeys is how they take stock pieces - Smiths jangling, Oasis disdain, Clash-like protest - and assemble them in a way that sounds completely different. For example, their first single, "I Bet You Look Good on the Dancefloor," a raucous rocker that hooks you immediately, opens with a guitar solo - a no-no that most record company and radio execs would have removed straight off, no matter how well it works.

Lucky for them (and us), the Arctic Monkeys had already built a massive fan base for the songs on the Internet before they signed their record deal - holding enough sway to keep the unorthodox alt-rock intact. The fuzzed-out "Perhaps Vampires Is a Bit Strong But ..." bounds between ZZ Top Texas boogie and scratch-guitar funk. The current single "When the Sun Goes Down," the band's second British No. 1, starts out with jazz-lounge guitar before doing an about-face into mysterious dance rock.

Turner's tales of fake-tan girls and bored boys looking for trouble manage to surprise with their intricate details and plot twists, made all the more effective by the band's musical zig-zags. But it's Jamie King's unpredictable guitar work that makes the Arctic Monkeys the stuff of indie-rock dreams, that rare British Next Big Thing that actually lives up to its hype. (Grade: A)

Jenny Lewis is set to make the leap from indie-rock starlet to alt-folk leading lady, setting up camp between Lucinda Williams and Emmylou Harris.

On her solo debut "Rabbit Fur Coat" (Team Love), Lewis and backing singers The Watson Twins show off her lyric-writing abilities and ambition as much as the gorgeous voice that got her noticed in Rilo Kiley.

The result is an album that is sweeter than Lucinda and more confrontational than Emmylou, but just as layered and impressive as the best work of either of those legends.

The title track of "Rabbit Fur Coat" is the album's centerpiece - dramatic and clever, as well as heart-wrenching and emotional. Rather than focusing on the things we do for love, Lewis focuses on the love we do for things, on selling off your emotions for monetary gain since sometimes those are the only things you have to sell. Pretty powerful for a pop song, but twisting perspectives and expectations is what Lewis does best.

On "Rise Up With Fists" - the song that sounds most like the work of her former label boss Conor Oberst (aka Bright Eyes aka Saddle Creek Records honcho) - Lewis mocks the mockers. She quotes them with a sneer, singing, "What are you changing? Who do you think you're changing? You can't change things, we're all stuck in our ways." Then, she targets holier-than-thou leaders. ("Are you really that pure, sir? Thought I saw you in Vegas. It was not pretty, but she was.") Finally, she issues her call to arms: "I still believe and I will rise up with fists."

"Rabbit Fur Coat" features some songs ("You Are What You Love" and "The Charging Sky") that sound like Lewis' work with Rilo Kiley, and the spare, electronic blippiness of "Born Secular" sounds a bit like the songs she did with The Postal Service. She even assembles a supergroup of sorts - Oberst, Death Cab for Cutie's Ben Gibbard and M. Ward - to take on The Traveling Wilburys' "Handle With Care."

But it's the simple and pretty "Happy," produced by Ward, and the laid-back lament "Melt Your Heart," where Lewis takes her songs to a new level - using her sweet voice to hide some not-so-sweet sentiments.

On "Rabbit Fur Coat," Lewis dreams big and delivers, writing and co-producing the bulk of the songs. Who knows what she will think of next? (Grade: A)

Listen to "Melt Your Heart" and "Rabbit Fur Coat" here

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