Following the noble misstep of 2015's grunge-rap Speedin' Bullet 2 Heaven, Kid Cudi returns to introspective hip-hop weirdness on his sixth outing, Passion, Pain & Demon Slayin'. The sprawling effort finds Scott Mescudi in a new, healing state, fresh from a self-imposed hospitalization for depression and suicidal urges. Sonically, it recalls his early Man on the Moon period (production by Mike Dean and Plain Pat keep things consistent), but emotionally, it offers deeper therapy and catharsis. Running at one and a half hours, Passion is long and occasionally drags. Although split into four digestible "Acts," it tests the limits of the casual listener's patience. Fans should be pleased, however, by the wealth of new material. "Tuned," the album's first act, is one of the better portions, blending '90s trip-hop with a concoction of Kanye's 808s and Trent Reznor's Ghosts soundscapes. From the mournful atmospherics of "Releaser" and the languid "Frequency" to the catchy André 3000/Pharrell Williams island-tinged collaboration "By Design" and Mike WiLL Made It's popping "All In," "Tuned" sets the course for another intergalactic therapy session. Aptly titled "Therapy," the second act contains some of the best insights into Cudi's state of mind. On "ILLusions," he bids farewell "to the demons in my head," declaring "no more misery...free, free." On "Baptized in Fire," Travis Scott pleads with his "big bro" in a sweet moment of vulnerability, asking the Man on the Moon to phone home because he's needed. Yet, despite appearances by Willow Smith (on the beautiful dark twisted dirge "Rose Golden") and another from Pharrell ("Flight at First Sight/Advanced"), this act is where Passion's energy starts to lag. Third act "Niveaux de l'Amour" ("Levels of Love") is the only segment devoid of guests, kicking off with a one-two punch of hyper-horny sex jams. The throbbing "Dance 4 Eternity" is the mood-building foreplay to the blush-worthy "Distant Fantasies," in which Cudi promises, among other things, to "pound it 'til it's numb." However, as the track draws out, the only things getting numb are the listener's tolerance and attention span. Still, the latter half of the act manages to be one of the album's best stretches, from the cathartic "Wounds" -- where Cudi proclaims "I'mma sew these wounds myself" -- to the lovely "Mature Nature" and sweeping "Kitchen." Finishing on "It's Bright and Heaven Is Warm" -- a spin on DMX's It's Dark and Hell Is Hot -- Cudi soars like an eagle on "Cosmic Warrior" and reclaims his sense of self on the uplifting "Heart of a Lion" callback "The Commander," on which he reaffirms that he's "so in control." On closer "Surfin'," Pharrell takes the reins once again, sending Kid Cudi off on a horn-filled tribal wave. While the album could have been split into two thematically concise releases (or a single focused edit), Passion, Pain & Demon Slayin' breathes gravitas into the Kid Cudi discography, realigning his trajectory and hinting at hope, possibility, and, most importantly, recovery. © Neil Z. Yeung /TiVo

The passing of four years and a different name should be enough clues that Spinnerette are a far cry from Brody Dalle's previous band, the Distillers, but the extent of just how different Spinnerette is still might shock longtime fans. The Distillers' swan song, Coral Fang, was polished compared to melees like Sing Sing Death House, but Spinnerette's state-of-the-art California trash-pop is buffed to such a high shine that it almost feels subversive compared to Dalle's previous piss and vinegar. These songs are unapologetically slick and hooky, with more in common with bandmate Alain Johannes' other project, Queens of the Stone Age -- whose leader, Josh Homme, is also married to Dalle -- than Dalle and Tony Bevilacqua's Distillers roots. That's not the only influence on Spinnerette, though. "Ghetto Love" recalls the Kills' sleekly deconstructed rock, while "Geeking" nods to Joan Jett's sass. Next to its slick production, Spinnerette's biggest surprise is Dalle's voice. Her rasp now has melody, spanning "All Babes Are Wolves"' keening highs to "Cupid"'s gravelly lows. Almost as surprising is the album's lighthearted mood: Dalle used to sing about love and sex like they were a matter of life or death, but "Sex Bomb" is just good dirty fun. Though things are less complicated in Spinnerette's world than they were in the Distillers', the music is more eclectic, and some of the biggest departures from Dalle's past make for the most interesting moments. "Baptized by Fire"'s über-pop processed beats and keyboards are a bit daring given her punk past; "Distorting a Code" and "The Walking Dead" show some vulnerability along with some unabashedly pretty melodies; and "Impaler"'s witchy folk-rock channels Fleetwood Mac's "The Chain." While Dalle and crew try on these different sounds and make most of them fit, they take a few missteps; many songs go on longer than they should, especially the droning stoner blues of "A Prescription for Mankind," which closes the album and dulls the impact of what came before it. Spinnerette also feels a bit overcooked at times, possibly because of the long time it took to make. At its best, however, Spinnerette shows what Dalle can do outside of the Distillers' context, and suggests that maturity and life after punk rock can actually be fun.© Heather Phares /TiVo

For Roadrunner's 25th anniversary, the pioneering heavy metal/hard rock label came up with a novel concept: four super groups composed of current and former Roadrunner artists, with more Roadrunner alumni guesting on each track. ROADRUNNER UNITED: THE ALL-STAR SESSIONS is the result. Based on core bands led by Slipknot drummer Joey Jordison, ex-Fear Factory guitarist Dino Cazares, Machine Head guitarist/vocalist Robert Flynn, and Trivium leader Matthew Heafy, the album covers a wide swath of aggressive styles, from the proggy thrash/death metal of "Annihilation by the Hands of God" to the old-school stoner boogie grooves of "Blood and Flames." © TiVo

3.5 stars out of 5 -- "[T]he album pushes a chilling, apocalyptic tone to the forefront throughout, both in Brook Reeves' lyrics and the unforgiving hostility of their collective performance." © TiVo

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Adeem the Artist—born Kyle Bingham, aka Kyle Adem, aka Adem Bingham, aka Adeem Maria—has released a bunch of music over the past decade. But with 2021's Cast-Iron Pansexual, the Southern singer-songwriter, who leans hard into country and Americana, finally got national recognition. One attention-grabbing song on that record, "I Wish You Would've Been a Cowboy," called out Toby Keith for the jingoism of his 2002 hit "Courtesy of the Red, White and Blue (The Angry American)": “Your Japanese-made guitar props up fascists/ While you brag about kicking asses/ With a boot in your mouth, exploiting the American South." Non-binary and pansexual; a former evangelical music pastor turned non-believer; named for NASCAR driver Kyle Petty and a onetime cruise-ship performer, Adeem is full of contradictions, including the kind that make a lot of people in the trad South itchy. They’re also proud of their Southern roots and ready to account for how twisted those can be: "Heritage of Arrogance" explores religion and race, how weirdly segregated most churches are, and calls for dismantling white privilege—addressing the price people who have that need to pay. Set to a Replacements-style raggedness, it's a perfect distillation of the mountain music and love of blue-collar rock that pervades Western North Carolina and East Tennessee, at the foothills of the Smoky Mountains. Accompanied by Appalachian stringed instruments, "Middle of a Heart" is about following in their family's footsteps and learning to shoot a deer—and the horrors of that. "Everybody's going to be so glad to see the freezer full of fresh deer meat/ Mama's going to be so proud of me … I learned to put a bullet through the middle of a heart." A morning-after case of slow blues where the instruments themselves sound drunk, "Redneck, Unread Hicks" is a different kind of pride anthem: "Got pronouns listed/ It's a genuine queer/ Singing 'Black lives matter' to a Jimmie Rodgers melody." "Carolina" shows Adeem can pull off John Prine-style storytelling. "From my grandpa's fist to my mother's lip … There's an American inheritance of trauma and depression," they sing, bending the word "Carolina" with the ownership of a seventh-generation Carolinian. "From the birth canal to the whistle of emergency sirens/ You've got a lot of skins to wear/ As you try to figure out who you are." There's a bluegrass stomper ("Going to Hell"), a piano ballad that brings to mind Attempted Mustache-era Loudon Wainwright III ("For Judas," with the great line "Taxi cabs drove by full of college age women in drag/ They're all in costumes/ They all look like children"), and a bit of honky-tonk rockabilly ("Run This Town"). "Books & Records" nods to No Depression—that warm-hearted sound that came out of bitterly cold winters—for a gut punch of pawn-shop optimism: "We've been selling off our books and records/ Instruments our grandparents played … But we're going to buy them back someday." © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

To some, listening to Lenny Kravitz was always a bit of a guilty pleasure, but rarely has listening to one of his albums induced overwhelming feelings of guilt, as does his seventh album, Baptism. Guilt that you took him for granted, not acknowledging the craft behind his best singles. Guilt that you thought he couldn't be as nondescript as he was on "Fly." Guilt that you thought he couldn't sink lower than Circus. Or maybe it will just be a flush of angry guilt that you've wasted 55 minutes of precious time listening to an album that betrays all faith you've had in Kravitz as a retro-rock revivalist. Since 1993's Are You Gonna Go My Way? he'd been erratic, stumbling on the doggedly rock-oriented Circus and only gathering his full strength on 2001's Lenny, which may have been a good record but failed to sell. Perhaps maintaining a balance of sales, craft, and fame had exhausted Kravitz, but he sounds worn down to the bone throughout Baptism. He may claim that he "can save your soul" on the opener, "Minister of Rock 'n Roll" (which bears unfortunate similarities in tone and theme to Circus' dud opening salvo, "Rock and Roll Is Dead"), but on the rest of the album he sounds anxious to quit the business, wondering whether he would have been better off if he were a simple man and living off the land. These themes are commonplace in rock & roll, but most rockers have better sense than to air their concerns in the first person, whining that "I'm internationally known...I've got millions sold/But after the party, I'm left standing in the cold," which engenders little sympathy since he could, after all, pull a Bobbie Gentry and quit the business and not make any more records. But he doesn't really want to do that since he's too enamored with the spoils of fame and all of its trapping, complaining "I Don't Want to Be a Star" in the same song where he exults "I got high with Jagger/It was really cool." Such shallow sentiments could be excused if the music worked, but it's as thin as his words and stultifying lethargic, to the point that he doesn't bother to disguise how he cops ZZ Top on "Where Are We Runnin'?" or Sly Stone on "Sistamamalover." It's such a drag that it's a real shock when a song pierces through the murk, as it does on the addictive rush of "California" or the fuzzy glam of "Flash" -- these are the songs that remind you that Kravitz can fuse familiar sounds into something that giddily celebrates his love of music. While these are fine individual moments, they wind up being a bit dispiriting since they're surrounded by lazy, exhausted retreads where it sounds as if the act of making music is a chore to Kravitz -- something that he nearly admits in his lyrics. It's a shame and embarrassment, and hopefully it will be a temporary slump like Circus -- unless he really does want to quit this business called show, since it would be better for him to stop making records than to crank out depressing sludge like this.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Following the noble misstep of 2015's grunge-rap Speedin' Bullet 2 Heaven, Kid Cudi returns to introspective hip-hop weirdness on his sixth outing, Passion, Pain & Demon Slayin'. The sprawling effort finds Scott Mescudi in a new, healing state, fresh from a self-imposed hospitalization for depression and suicidal urges. Sonically, it recalls his early Man on the Moon period (production by Mike Dean and Plain Pat keep things consistent), but emotionally, it offers deeper therapy and catharsis. Running at one and a half hours, Passion is long and occasionally drags. Although split into four digestible "Acts," it tests the limits of the casual listener's patience. Fans should be pleased, however, by the wealth of new material. "Tuned," the album's first act, is one of the better portions, blending '90s trip-hop with a concoction of Kanye's 808s and Trent Reznor's Ghosts soundscapes. From the mournful atmospherics of "Releaser" and the languid "Frequency" to the catchy André 3000/Pharrell Williams island-tinged collaboration "By Design" and Mike WiLL Made It's popping "All In," "Tuned" sets the course for another intergalactic therapy session. Aptly titled "Therapy," the second act contains some of the best insights into Cudi's state of mind. On "ILLusions," he bids farewell "to the demons in my head," declaring "no more misery...free, free." On "Baptized in Fire," Travis Scott pleads with his "big bro" in a sweet moment of vulnerability, asking the Man on the Moon to phone home because he's needed. Yet, despite appearances by Willow Smith (on the beautiful dark twisted dirge "Rose Golden") and another from Pharrell ("Flight at First Sight/Advanced"), this act is where Passion's energy starts to lag. Third act "Niveaux de l'Amour" ("Levels of Love") is the only segment devoid of guests, kicking off with a one-two punch of hyper-horny sex jams. The throbbing "Dance 4 Eternity" is the mood-building foreplay to the blush-worthy "Distant Fantasies," in which Cudi promises, among other things, to "pound it 'til it's numb." However, as the track draws out, the only things getting numb are the listener's tolerance and attention span. Still, the latter half of the act manages to be one of the album's best stretches, from the cathartic "Wounds" -- where Cudi proclaims "I'mma sew these wounds myself" -- to the lovely "Mature Nature" and sweeping "Kitchen." Finishing on "It's Bright and Heaven Is Warm" -- a spin on DMX's It's Dark and Hell Is Hot -- Cudi soars like an eagle on "Cosmic Warrior" and reclaims his sense of self on the uplifting "Heart of a Lion" callback "The Commander," on which he reaffirms that he's "so in control." On closer "Surfin'," Pharrell takes the reins once again, sending Kid Cudi off on a horn-filled tribal wave. While the album could have been split into two thematically concise releases (or a single focused edit), Passion, Pain & Demon Slayin' breathes gravitas into the Kid Cudi discography, realigning his trajectory and hinting at hope, possibility, and, most importantly, recovery.© Neil Z. Yeung /TiVo

Since the seminal Hell Is Here in 1998, you might say plenty has happened in the career of The Crown. The expression “rollercoaster” takes on full weight here, since the Swedish gang was mainly active at the turn of the century, releasing no fewer than seven albums between 2000 and 2010. Royal Destroyer is the 11th studio release by the quintet, once again supercharged by their patented speedy, savage thrash/death. Like its predecessor Cobra Speed Venom (2018), it was recorded live in the studio – the right call, as The Crown is the archetypal group that understands the maxim less is more. Their stripped-down music races out like a krazy go-kart at top speed and adapts poorly to the kinds of overly detailed arrangements or fancy-shmancy writing provided by compatriots like Dark Tranquillity or Arch Enemy. The energy here is more like a bad fever contracted following too much exposure to punk and hardcore. The crushing Glorious Hades, martial and heavy as hell, allows the listener to take a deep breath before plunging back into full-on mode with Full Metal Justice and especially Scandinavian Satan, a swift, nasty tribute to gratuitous violence that will have you smiling – shades of the essential 1999 – Revolution 666, released by the group in 1998, when their average age was barely over 20. The weight of passing years seems to have had no impact on this crew and their aggression, as proven by the utterly adolescent lyrics of Johan Lindstrand (age 45), caricatures hewing to the belief held by certain death metal groups that violence trumps philosophy. (“I can smell your fear – Death race in hell – I await the flames – With love lightning fast – My poison adrenaline – Is feeding your fury now”, lyrics from Motordeath). All in all, there’s little possibility of confusing them with Vincent Delerm. That consistency is ultimately what makes The Crown so reassuring. Some things never change, and that’s fine. Royal Destroyer is a complete release, wonderfully regressive; a good solid listening session is the perfect replacement for a 45-minute session hammering the speed bag. © Charlélie Arnaud/Qobuz

New Orleans musician Chris Thomas King lost both a home and a recording studio when Hurricane Katrina had landfall at the close of summer in 2005, and it's hardly startling that his album Rise takes Katrina and the devastating aftermath of the storm as a central theme. The result is a tremendously elegiac outing, and even when King goes up-tempo, as he does on a cover of Joni Mitchell's "Big Yellow Taxi," the song itself is all about incalculable loss and the incredible indifference of contemporary America to its own personal history. Things are drowning and washing away in song after song on Rise, and King isn't afraid to name names. In "Faith," the song's narrator clings to a rooftop as bodies float by and he realizes that President Bush is in a plane over New Orleans in the same instant, and it is a powerful moment that literally defines the notion of differing perspectives. Does he really care, the narrator wonders. Rise deals with loss, death and the hope for rebirth in mostly hushed tones, and while many still think of King as primarily a blues artist, the album is really closer to a kind of pop gospel outing, only stripped of much of the certainty and joy that gospel usually conveys. Rise is King's personal revaluation of America, and the truths he examines are unclear, as perhaps they have always been. Although it works as one long and mostly melancholy suite, a few of Rise's songs do stand out, like the ominous and ultimately resigned "Flow Mississippi Flow," a lightly rewritten version of "St. James Infirmary" (certainly one of the most death-haunted songs in the whole history of American music) and the elegant "'Tis the Last Rose of Summer," which is dedicated to King's mother, who passed in December of 2005. King didn't record this album to further his career so much as a way to stumble towards an understanding of America in the 21st century, using Katrina as a necessary lens. Again, he doesn't come up with answers, but sometimes it's the questions that matter most, although asking why, King suggests, isn't particularly useful when everything has been washed away. What now, is the real question, and the answer to that question is still up in the air. The nature of modern media is to move on to the next thing. King and others whose lives were forever changed by Katrina and its aftermath don't have that option. © Steve Leggett /TiVo

Following the noble misstep of 2015's grunge-rap Speedin' Bullet 2 Heaven, Kid Cudi returns to introspective hip-hop weirdness on his sixth outing, Passion, Pain & Demon Slayin'. The sprawling effort finds Scott Mescudi in a new, healing state, fresh from a self-imposed hospitalization for depression and suicidal urges. Sonically, it recalls his early Man on the Moon period (production by Mike Dean and Plain Pat keep things consistent), but emotionally, it offers deeper therapy and catharsis. Running at one and a half hours, Passion is long and occasionally drags. Although split into four digestible "Acts," it tests the limits of the casual listener's patience. Fans should be pleased, however, by the wealth of new material. "Tuned," the album's first act, is one of the better portions, blending '90s trip-hop with a concoction of Kanye's 808s and Trent Reznor's Ghosts soundscapes. From the mournful atmospherics of "Releaser" and the languid "Frequency" to the catchy André 3000/Pharrell Williams island-tinged collaboration "By Design" and Mike WiLL Made It's popping "All In," "Tuned" sets the course for another intergalactic therapy session. Aptly titled "Therapy," the second act contains some of the best insights into Cudi's state of mind. On "ILLusions," he bids farewell "to the demons in my head," declaring "no more misery...free, free." On "Baptized in Fire," Travis Scott pleads with his "big bro" in a sweet moment of vulnerability, asking the Man on the Moon to phone home because he's needed. Yet, despite appearances by Willow Smith (on the beautiful dark twisted dirge "Rose Golden") and another from Pharrell ("Flight at First Sight/Advanced"), this act is where Passion's energy starts to lag. Third act "Niveaux de l'Amour" ("Levels of Love") is the only segment devoid of guests, kicking off with a one-two punch of hyper-horny sex jams. The throbbing "Dance 4 Eternity" is the mood-building foreplay to the blush-worthy "Distant Fantasies," in which Cudi promises, among other things, to "pound it 'til it's numb." However, as the track draws out, the only things getting numb are the listener's tolerance and attention span. Still, the latter half of the act manages to be one of the album's best stretches, from the cathartic "Wounds" -- where Cudi proclaims "I'mma sew these wounds myself" -- to the lovely "Mature Nature" and sweeping "Kitchen." Finishing on "It's Bright and Heaven Is Warm" -- a spin on DMX's It's Dark and Hell Is Hot -- Cudi soars like an eagle on "Cosmic Warrior" and reclaims his sense of self on the uplifting "Heart of a Lion" callback "The Commander," on which he reaffirms that he's "so in control." On closer "Surfin'," Pharrell takes the reins once again, sending Kid Cudi off on a horn-filled tribal wave. While the album could have been split into two thematically concise releases (or a single focused edit), Passion, Pain & Demon Slayin' breathes gravitas into the Kid Cudi discography, realigning his trajectory and hinting at hope, possibility, and, most importantly, recovery.© Neil Z. Yeung /TiVo