[2006] Orson - Bright Idea (Mp3 Download)
Track Lists01. Bright Idea
02. No Tomorrow
03. Happiness
04. Already Over
05. Tryin' To Help
06. So Ahead Of Me
07. Last Night
08. Look Around
09. Saving The World
10. The Okay Song
Track Lists
Although it wasn't immediately apparent, Supposed Former Infatuation Junkie found Alanis Morissette floundering in her success, albeit ever so slightly. Like most arty collegiate types, she reacted to massive success with an instinct to experiment, and since she had sold so many records, she and producer/collaborator Glen Ballard were given free range to do pretty much whatever they wanted, resulting in a muted, fitfully intriguing album that had the feel of a sophomore slump even if it was her fourth record (but who counts those first two records as part of her discography, anyway?). It was pretty good, it sold pretty well, but nobody liked it all that much, so it was time for a cool change on her next record, Under Rug Swept (funny how the three years separating Jagged Little Pill and Supposed seemed longer than the three between Supposed and this). The biggest move Alanis made was ditching Ballard, which has the unexpected result of bringing back the sound of Jagged Little Pill, a lush, dense layering of loops, guitars, keyboards, and vocals that makes her songs seem catchier than they are. But that's not all -- she's returned to the impassioned, awkwardly written, syllable-heavy confessional verse that marked Jagged Little Pill. Not only that, she's returned to the very relationship that inspired her breakthrough hit "You Oughta Know," most clearly on the album's lead single, "Hands Clean," this time written from the perspective of the older man who laid prey to the young Canadian star. This would all seem calculated, an attempt to regain her chart status, if Morissette wasn't so unabashedly earnest, seemingly unembarrassed by her confessions. And perhaps she shouldn't be, since her lyrics are so elaborately overwritten it's hard to discern what's going on in her songs. Repeated listens may reveal that her tortured verse derives from something very personal indeed (perhaps it's something so personal, she chooses to hide it by ignoring the rules of syntax and logic, but given her interviews, her unwieldy words are likely just a personal artistic statement), but it's never clear what the songs are about, unless she makes it clear in the title ("21 Things I Want in a Lover," "Narcissus," to name but two). It was easier to call this trait charming on the diary confessions of Jagged, but by this point, the elaborate phrasing and rush of consonants is becoming a bit of a distraction, but the saving grace of Under Rug Swept is that it sounds good. The music flows, the production doesn't overplay its hand, it's pleasingly melodic, tempering the extremities of Jagged Little Pill while retaining the character, and as such, it's easy to groove on the sound without listening to the words. A downside is that the songs, apart from the first three, don't stand out as individual songs, but they do cohere as a whole better than Supposed, and that's no small accomplishment. Alanis is still held back by her own idiosyncrasies -- her determination to be different, to write every word she could possibly ever want to say in as difficult a way as possible -- but that's also her defining characteristic. It's better heard on Jagged, but if you want more of that, take this: it's what Supposed Former Infatuation Junkie should have been.
Often, artists embrace Unplugged as an opportunity to stroll through their back catalog. Not Alanis Morissette. Instead of concentrating on the familiar (only four songs from Jagged Little Pill are here, and neither of its sequel's hits, "Thank U" and "So Pure," are performed), Morissette uses Unplugged as a way to reintroduce Supposed Former Infatuation Junkie to an audience that largely ignored it the first time around. It's easy to see why Morissette is so intent on selling these songs. Although their meaning may be elusive at times, they're extremely personal songs, which benefit from the stripped-down arrangements and intimate surroundings. Even so, the songs require close, careful listening before they truly catch hold, and even then, they're often easier to admire than love. By closing the performance with the non-LP soundtrack contribution "Uninvited," Morissette unwittingly highlights the reason why Supposed failed to gain a large audience. Like much of that album, "Uninvited is also heavy on mood and cryptic lyrics, but the song is blessed with an indelible melody and haunting atmosphere. Compared with that song, the Supposed tunes, plus the three previously unreleased songs (including "No Pressure Over Cappucinio and "Princess Familiar"), are all intriguing but never as compelling, largely because they demand that the listener meet them on their own terms. Here, they're a bit more accessible, but it makes Unplugged just slightly less elusive than Supposed itself.
Papa Roach's debut album Infest quietly became a Top 20 hit in the first half of 2000, slipping underneath the radar of most pop critics and fans. It's easy to see why the pop elite passed them by, since the quartet just isn't hip, and since they are pushing an amalgam of every heavy sound that was popular in the late '90s. Basically, Infest is pitched somewhere between the classic grunge/industrial of the early '90s with hints of late-'90s behemoths like Korn and Limp Bizkit. There's singing, but it's balanced by rapping, and the heavy riffs are run through effects boxes that give it the controlled distortion common to alt-metal; it's loud, but you can hear each note being articulated. Lyrically, there's a lot of angst here, directed at everyone from parents and society to themselves. Strangely, each member thanks their families and God in the liner notes, but that's sort of beside the point, since this has the form and feeling of angst-ridden, post-grunge, rap-riddled alt-metal. Is it good? Well, if you're not into this stuff, this won't change your mind, but the band does work up some energy, sounds pretty muscular on most of the album, and has some good hooks, even if they tend to overplay their hand by throwing too many hooks into the riffs or screaming just a bit to much. Still, that's par for the course with alt-metal. So, it winds up that Papa Roach doesn't really distinguish itself from the pack in terms of sound, but they do stand out in terms of capability and consistency. Infest is a pretty solid alt-metal record, circa 2000, both for better and worse. It's a little generic, yes, but as far as the genre goes, it's not bad.
Alternative metal exploded during the late '90s thanks to groundwork laid by groups like Nine Inch Nails, White Zombie, and Rage Against the Machine, and as record companies scrambled to find the next Korn or Limp Bizkit, the genre became clogged with legions of similar-sounding bands, all trying to find just the right blend of low, heavy guitar riffs, rap-metal, industrial, and intense aggression. Often, those attempts could result in sounds that seemed too calculated and self-consciously cobbled together to feel natural; plus, inventive production was frequently employed to disguise many songs' lack of memorable hooks. The Sickness, the first entry by Chicago's Disturbed in the alt-metal sweepstakes, thankfully avoids those common pitfalls, turning in a mixture of raw, gut-level metal and industrial/electronic backing that feels logical and integrated. Although the music has its fair share of pummeling aggression and accompanying shouted vocals, Disturbed also isn't afraid to employ melody, and they're actually quite good at it when they choose that direction. Occasional forays into rap-metal aren't really the group's strong suit and can feel a bit awkward, although they do have a certain rhythmic acuity missing from some similar bands' attempts. But even if it has a few less-than-compelling moments, The Sickness overall comes off as the work of a band who really doesn't have far to go to achieve total control of its sound and compositional skills, and that makes it a terrific debut album.
The title of Staind's sophomore album refers to the misery passed on from generation to generation; specifically, singer Aaron Lewis' family issues. And Break the Cycle is an issues album -- Lewis' therapy session for all to hear. "For You" reads like a final confession from child to parent ("I am f*cked up because you are"), and on the hit single "It's Been Awhile," he sings, "I cannot blame this on my father." Staind wraps up all this pain in deceivingly melodic packages, sort of like Nirvana's "All Apologies" without the depth. Lewis has a Kurt Cobain-like ache to his voice, which makes the more affecting songs -- like the acoustic version of "Outside" -- genuine (or at least appear that way). Cycle is ultimately no more than 50 minutes of standard-issue desolation, but the softness of many of the tracks gives it compassion, something most of Staind's peers have no time for.
Hard rockers Deftones take their heavy post-grunge ways to another level on their third album White Pony. Sensing painful frustrations and personal rediscovery with its allusive microcosm of an album title, the Californian alt-rock five piece were periodically stifled while making White Pony. Their 1997 sophomore effort Around the Fur was hailed to blast out commercially, but such pressure crippled the band musically and personally. The band struggled with leading its direction, trudging through weighed emotion, but White Pony was the tantalizing outcome. The Deftones went soft, but in an impressive way, to twist around its signature punk thrash sound. Frontman Chino Moreno is still intense, and his sour vocals throughout the entire record growl and stomp all over mainstream movements. He is bored with it all. "Feiticeira" calls out against authority with textured guitars and gnarling percussive throws. "Elite" is sonically industrial and embryonic, as Moreno's beer-soaked vocals scream like Ministry's Al Jourgensen and Skinny Puppy's Nivek Ogre. Lyrically, Moreno is exquisitely mind-blowing, but his fear is also evident. Check out the fierce ballad-esque "Teenager" -- the innocent days when life seemed easy can only be dreams now. Moreno's duet with Tool's Maynard James Keenan on "Passenger" is as equally tender. The first single, "Change (In the House of Flies)," is hardening in the way that punk can be sultry and not just pogo-skanking nonsense. It is honest, stripped, and exposed with it's flowing guitar riffs and haunting orchestral back drops. There aren't any lackluster similarities to Limp Bizkit and Korn. The Deftones have forged ahead, unafraid to delve into the influences of The Smiths and The Cure.
Crazy Town's debut album, The Gift of Game, is similar to many other rap-inflected alternative metal albums in that it concentrates on sound over structure, creating macho, aggressive grooves with grinding, noisily textured guitars and the underlying feel of squared-off hip-hop beats. Hooks can be a bit hard to come by, since this isn't music that relies heavily on melody (or catchy guitar riffs), but that isn't necessarily a consideration for fans of the style. What's more relevant than the tightness of the songwriting is the intensity of the assault, and on that count, Crazy Town delivers the goods. Moreover, they're refreshingly skilled in the rap department when compared to some of their contemporaries, and the album bolsters its credibility with guest appearances from KRS-One and Mad Lion, to name two. Of course, Crazy Town's audience will be largely outside the hip-hop community, but it's evidence that they can be more serious about a truer fusion of genres when they want to be. There are elements of Limp Bizkit's juvenile humor, to be sure, but overall, the album shows promise.
The anthemic indie rock sound of Snow Patrol provides a bit of hope and promise among the many acts attempting to fit into a certain genre or scene. Snow Patrol belong to their own scene, and their third album, 2004's Final Straw, proved that with several global hit singles such as "Run," "Chocolate," "How to Be Dead," and the reissue of "Spitting Games." British fans once more proclaimed their beloved Snow Patrol as a true rock & roll band while American audiences finally took notice of the Scottish collective. The band's fourth album, Eyes Open, doesn't fall short from where they left off; in fact, Snow Patrol's hungry rock sound only gets bigger and better this time around. All guitar hooks and singalong choruses are firmly in place. Gary Lightbody is an underrated frontman. On Eyes Open, he once again writes songs that are from the heart and true to self-reflection without getting too sappy and too overjoyed. From the playful name-dropping of Sufjan Stevens on "Hands Open" to their passionate delivery on "It's Beginning to Get to Me" and "Shut Your Eyes," Snow Patrol's approach is epic. They are the kind of band that embrace simplicity as beautiful and human flaws as art. The lullaby-like "You Could Be Happy" and the passionate buildup of "Make This Go on Forever" are evident of that. This 11-song set is a masterpiece, so keep your ears and eyes open for Snow Patrol. They're onto something big.
If Nelly Furtado's nearly impenetrable 2003 sophomore effort, Folklore, proved anything, it was that this modern-day singer/songwriter is smart and ambitious yet doesn't quite have a handle on those very qualities. Dabbling in worldbeat and chronicling the perils of immediate success, she indulged herself without a care for the audience -- and the audience responded in kind, as the album barely cracked the Billboard Top 40, spawned no hits, and sold about a quarter of what her Grammy-winning debut did. Clearly a rethink of some sort was in order for her next album, and 2006's Loose, delivered about three years later, certainly does present a different Nelly Furtado: one who is glammed up, sexed up, and ready for the dancefloor. Borrowing liberally from Gwen Stefani's ghetto fabulous makeover and a little bit from Justin Timberlake's sleek retro-'80s moves on Justified, Furtado now has a sound that's straight 2006; with hooks that feel as comfortable as bumper music on MTV as they do as background on cell phone commercials or as ringtones, she can blend into the hyper-saturated media culture of 2006, a move that may alienate fans who were won over by how her debut, Whoa, Nelly!, sounded like nothing else in 2000. No matter how club-friendly Loose is -- even its quieter moments, like the closing "All Good Things (Come to an End)" (co-written in part by Coldplay's Chris Martin), feel like ideal soundtracks to chill-out moments -- ultimately Furtado did not get a swan-styled makeover, where her original personality has been chiseled and chipped away so only a vestige of her remains. Remember, Furtado is nothing if not smart, and she smartly picked Timbaland, one of the very best producers in modern music, as her main collaborator for Loose.Timbaland helmed all but two of the 12 main tracks here -- the album weighs in at 13 songs, but one is a Spanish version of the Juanes duet "Te Busque" -- and he gives much of this music a bracing feel, dense with old-school synths, subtle sample collages, bone-crunching bass, cascading vocal hooks, and beats that sound so heavy it takes careful listening to realize how nimble they are. Nowhere is this more evident than on the killer opening triptych of "Afraid," "Maneater," and "Promiscuous," three songs that trumpet Furtado's makeover and make it seem pretty convincing, too -- particularly on "Maneater" with its circular, minor-key bass and "Promiscuous" with its chorus that sounds like vintage Prince. This is Timbaland at his best, and the only weak link is Furtado; no matter how she growls on "Maneater" or murmurs on "Promiscuous" -- no matter how much she sings about sex, period -- she just doesn't sound sexy. She sounds as if she's striving to be sexy, which doesn't generate much carnal heat, but it ultimately doesn't matter much since on all the heavy dance songs, of which there are a bunch, she's mixed into the background on Timbaland's production, functioning as another instrument, which helps the music work as just a stylish wall of sound. Furtado doesn't fight against Timbaland's mix, which proves her smarts more than anything on the showy Folklore; there's a reason why she chose Timbaland as a collaborator, and she lets him shine for the first half of the record, as they get the party rolling. Then on the second half of the record, the old Nelly starts to show through. She gets to play the world traveler with "No Hay Igual," where she deftly blends reggaeton and M.I.A., along with the smooth Latin pop ballad "Te Busque." Her words gradually come to the forefront, as on "Say It Right" -- a dark meditative piece that would have fit on her previous records if it didn't have a Timbaland production -- or on the sweetly ruminative "In God's Hands," and then on "Wait for You," which has Indian-influenced hooks and a melody reminiscent of "I'm Like a Bird," both strands are pulled together in a haunting fashion.It's on this final stretch of the album that the Furtado and Timbaland pairing seems like a genuine collaboration, staying true to the Nelly of her first two albums, but given an adventurous production that helps open her songs up. Unlike the music on Folklore, the idiosyncrasies intrigue instead of frustrate, and deliver on the promise of her debut, when it seemed like Furtado could do anything. That said, the music on the second half isn't nearly as immediate or addictive as "Maneater" and "Promiscuous," two singles that were already deserved hits (in the U.K. and U.S., respectively) when Loose was released. The genius on these two songs is down to Timbaland, who not only crafts the sound but vocally overshadows Nelly's mumbled raps on the latter. But Furtado is smart enough to let him dominate here, since she knows that Timbaland has revitalized Nelly Furtado both creatively and commercially with Loose, so it's only appropriate that he hogs the spotlight on its two best moments.
Sum 41 hit worldwide radar in 1996 after tiny Ajax, Ontario, proved unable to fully contain the foursome's blathering mixture of punk-pop riffing, hip-hop poses, and toilet-bowl humor. Led by guitarist/vocalist Deryck Whibley, who looked like a mash-up of the Prodigy's Keith Flint and cartoon land's Calvin, the band also included guitarist/vocalist Dave Baksh, bassist Cone McCaslin, and drummer Steve Jocz. Wooed by the boys' goofy antics and incendiary live show (and excited about the prospect of promoting their very own blink-182), Island put Sum 41 on the payroll in 1999. The Half Hour of Power EP followed, and Warped Tour dates got the word out. They returned in 2000 with the fun-filled full-length All Killer No Filler, and the singles "In Too Deep" and "Fat Lip" became staples of both modern rock radio and Total Request Live.An extensive tour followed, and Sum 41 enjoyed their boffo success the way all near-teenage boys would, with plenty of towel-snapping, groupie-loving, and self-depreciating, low-ball humor. In 2002, they returned to wax with Does This Look Infected? While the album was a bit harder-edged, it found the band just as jazzed as ever to mix punk-pop business with sophomoric pleasure: the video for "Hell Song" featured the fellas acting out a sort of rock star debauchery cage match with the aid of a few celebrity action figures. Metallica, Jesus Christ, and the Osbournes all made appearances in the hilarious clip.Not all fun and games, however, their involvement in the charity group War Child Canada had Sum 41 lending a hand in the making of a 2004 documentary covering the effects of war in the Democratic Republic of the Congo. Five days into filming, fighting and gunfire suddenly erupted around them, and they barely escaped unharmed -- these events led to 2004's slightly more mature and serious effort, Chuck, named for the UN aid worker, Chuck Pelletier, who was instrumental in getting them to safety. The DVD Rocked: Sum 41 in Congo was released at the end of 2005 and the live album Go Chuck Yourself appeared the following March. Guitarist Dave Baksh left the band during the spring of 2006 due to creative differences, going on to form the metal-punk outfit Brown Brigade.
Like most British pop, Lily Allen's debut album, Alright, Still, overflows with impeccably shiny, creative productions. However, Allen attempts to set herself apart from the likes of Rachel Stevens, Natasha Bedingfield, and Girls Aloud with a cheeky, (mostly) amusing vindictive streak in her lyrics that belies the sugarcoated sounds around them. You know exactly what she means when she says her ex is "not big whatsoever" on "Not Big"; later, she revels in being the one that got away on "Shame for You." However, this nice-then-naughty approach is at its best on Alright, Still's singles, which open the album in a one-two-three punch. Another ex-boyfriend kiss-off, "Smile," has a silky verse melody that just barely conceals her spite, which finally spills over on the chorus: "At first, when I see you cry/It makes me smile." But even here, Allen keeps her revenge sweet -- she sounds like she's singing about how ice cream or puppies or being in love makes her smile, which gives the song an extra sting. "Knock 'Em Out" is an even sassier, more stylized battle of the sexes than the Streets' "Fit But You Know It" (and could very well be the response from the girl in Mike Skinner's song). And "LDN" is a glorious summer confection, even if "it's all lies" underneath the Lord Kitchener sample and "sun is in the sky" chorus. Alright, Still's production and arrangements, courtesy of Greg Kurstin, Mark Ronson, and Futurecut, balance Allen's tart observations with a backdrop of pop-grime beats and freewheeling, feel-good ska that makes her sound playful and kittenish instead of just catty. While the album doesn't exactly go downhill after its opening salvo, it does lose some steam, particularly with "Take What You Take," a song that feels out of character with the rest of Alright, Still because it's uncharacteristically dull, and "Alfie," which falls especially flat as the album's final song. Allen softens her tough-girl pose more successfully on "Little Things," a ballad that celebrates the mundane moments of a dying relationship ("You'd take me out shopping and all we'd buy was trainers/As if we ever needed anything to entertain us") and "Everything's Just Wonderful," where "bureaucrats that won't give me a mortgage" are the targets of her ire instead of a previous (or soon-to-be previous) boyfriend. As with Nellie McKay (another young, opinionated woman eager to make herself the maverick in her chosen style of music), the dichotomy between Allen's sweet sound and ironic lyrics could be seen as either witty or clever-clever. Still, enough of Alright, Still works -- as pure pop and on the meta level Allen aims for -- to make the album a fun, summery fling, and maybe more.
With the news that Jimmy LaValle's solo project the Album Leaf had recorded an LP for Sub Pop at the same studio in Mosfellsbaer, Iceland, previously placed on the musical map by Sigur Rós (and including several members of the band in tow), indie fans began to imagine a transatlantic version of the Postal Service, perfectly ripe for crossover one year after the Postal Service's Sub Pop debut, Give Up, ruled the college charts. LaValle's first two full-lengths as the Album Leaf were gorgeous and meditative, putting him in perfect company with Sigur Rós; his best pieces, including "Wet the Day" from One Day I'll Be On Time, possessed a quiet, unchanging stillness that neatly connected the dots between ambient legends Claude Debussy, Cluster, Roger Eno, Oval, and Sigur Rós themselves. In a Safe Place, however, includes no magic to compare to his earlier work. The album is exactly the sum of its parts, perhaps less and definitely no more. LaValle retains his heavily textural, impressionist flair, but has begun to repeat himself heavily, with none of the freshness or vigor of previous material. He also sacrifices nearly all of the record's precious atmosphere by insisting on a basic drum kit track to drive many of the tracks (though later in the record, he turns to a skittery digital percussion that favors these songs). Only one piece hints at the record's full power, "Over the Pond," on which LaValle plays a simple, slightly changing Satie line on keyboards while the full Sigur Rós trio are heard for the first time, playing up their brand of studied melancholy with help from cello and violin. The only other notable success is "On Your Way," which features LaValle with Pall Jenkins, his collaborator in the Black Heart Procession.
Released just as her worldwide Re-Invention tour was hitting the States in the summer of 2006, I'm Going to Tell You a Secret is a CD/DVD package that isn't so much a souvenir of the tour but as a way to advertise it. The DVD contains a lengthy -- over two hours! which is longer than Truth or Dare! -- look at the tour, including its rehearsal plus some performance footage, while the CD offers a 14-track sampler of the set list, heavy on songs from Music, American Life, and Confessions on a Dance Floor. With the notable exception of "Vogue," the oldies on this CD have been given a makeover, so "Into the Groove" and especially "Holiday" feel like they could fit the Eurotrash, campy retro-disco feel of Confessions, while "Like a Prayer" is now a chilled-out come-down tune. Good, logical reworkings one and all, and they help give the disc a cohesive feel even if the live performance, like the album it's hawking, is kind of humorless. That said, as Madonna's first live CD, I'm Going to Tell You a Secret is strong and entertaining, and even if the excessive minutiae on the accompanying DVD means only hardcore fans will sit through its two hours, it's also quite well done. Which means I'm Going to Tell You a Secret serves its purpose well: it will convince anybody who is on the fence about going out to see the 2006 tour to go ahead and buy those expensive tickets already (although years from now, this combination of promotion and retrospective will probably seem odder than it already does).
Vocalist Karrin Allyson has been making waves on the mainstream jazz scene since the '90s, which leaves fans eagerly awaiting new collections like Footprints. While the album features a number of things that fans have come to expect -- good songs, scat singing, and fine vocals -- Footprints also adds a number of guest spots to sweeten the package. Most notably, Allyson is joined by vocalists Nancy King and Jon Hendricks for duets on about half of the songs, and on "Everybody's Boppin'," all three join in the fun. Allyson and King's vocals styles intertwine easily on "All You Need to Say (Never Say Yes)," one of the high points of the album. They also turn in a fine, relaxed take on John Coltrane and Chris Caswell's "A Long Way to Go (Equinox)." Allyson's lighter tone also reflects well with Hendricks' deeper, granular approach on "Strollin'." All three really cut loose on "Everybody's Boppin'," an upbeat bit of nonsense that had to be difficult to record no matter how much fun it sounds. Footprints only downside is that the set list and approach, while always tasteful, is too evenly paced and tame; at times, it follows its mainstream jazz predecessors too closely. Fans who have enjoyed Allyson's early work, however, will embrace the album warmly.
Shanachie Records is one smooth jazz-oriented label that smartly realizes that classic soul and urban music is an important complement to the R&B-influenced instrumental music that makes up the genre. In recent years, they've released some successful cover albums of modern soul songs, and earlier in 2006, released Sweet Classic Soul by Maysa. Nobody knows about the crossroads of smooth jazz and old-school soul better than Perry, the master of falsetto romance whose résumé as a featured or background vocalist includes Lee Ritenour, George Duke, Anita Baker, Rod Stewart, and Peabo Bryson. Perry's solo albums have mostly featured great original tracks, but his biggest solo hit back in 1991 was a cover of Aretha Franklin's "Call Me." So what could be more engaging than having his soothing voice breeze through tasteful arrangements of songs everyone knows? He's silky and whimsical on gems popularized by everyone from Marvin Gaye (dig those dreamy backing vocals on "I Want You") and Eddie Holman to the Chi-Lites and the Stylistics. Producer Chris "Big Dog" Davis ensures through his unique arrangements that these are far from glorified elevator music. Both Lionel Richie's "Hello" and the Spinners' "I'll Be Around" are recast as trippy, atmospheric romances that allow Perry to add his own unique stamp to what has been heard a million times. "Hello" in particular is a unique creative triumph, with jazzy flute and film score lush orchestra. Covers sometimes seem to an easy way to create and market a project, but Perry can be proud that he's done something very unique with the material he's chosen here.
Awkward and alluring in equal measures, Gwen Stefani's 2004 solo debut, Love.Angel.Music.Baby., did its job: it made Gwen a bigger star on her own than she was as the lead singer of No Doubt. With that established and her long-desired wish for a baby finally fulfilled, there was no rush for Gwen to get back to her regular gig, so she made another solo album, The Sweet Escape, which expanded on what really sold her debut: her tenuous connections to Californian club culture. There was always a sense of artifice behind the turn-of-the-century makeover that brought Gwen from a ska-punk sweetheart to a dance club queen, but that doesn't mean it didn't work at least on occasion, most spectacularly so on the gloriously dumb marching-band rap of "Hollaback Girl," the Neptunes production that turned L.A.M.B. into a blockbuster. There, as on her duet with Eve on "Let Me Blow Ya Mind," Gwen made the transition into a modern-day material girl with ease, but when she tried to shoehorn this ghetto-fabulous persona into her original new wave girl character, it felt forced, nowhere more so than on the Linda Perry written and produced "What You Waiting For." Gwen doesn't make that mistake again on The Sweet Escape -- by and large, she keeps these two sides of her personality separate, favoring the streets and nightclubs to the comfort of her new wave home. Just because she wants to run in the streets doesn't mean she belongs there; she continues to sound far more comfortable mining new wave pop, as only a child of the '80s could. As always, it's those celebrations of cool synths and stylish pop hooks that work the best for Stefani, whether she's approximating the chilliness of early-MTV new romantics on "Wonderful Life," mashing Prince and Madonna on "Fluorescent," or lying back on the coolly sensual "4 in the Morning."