Johnny Cash's fourth project with producer Rick Rubin continues on the same path as many of their previous releases: Cash's warm and rumbling baritone over minimal production and gentle duets with some surprising guests. One of the things that sets American IV: The Man Comes Around apart from the others is Cash's song selections. The success he experienced with his previous interpretations of contemporary songwriters (Soundgarden's "Rusty Cage," Nick Cave's "The Mercy Seat") is applied to this album with varying degrees of success. His throaty reading of Nine Inch Nails' "Hurt" easily fits into his "Man in Black" persona, and the spiritual conviction underlying Depeche Mode's "Personal Jesus" is certainly powerful. Unfortunately, the inclusion of "Bridge Over Troubled Water" (featuring a lost-sounding Fiona Apple) and a passionless snooze through the Beatles' "In My Life" should have been so much stronger (given the subject matter of both songs and Cash's prolific life story). One of the reasons his previous covers were so successful is that in the past he had chosen some pretty obscure songs (Bonnie Prince Billy's "I See a Darkness" and Beck's "Rowboat," to name a couple) and reinterpreted them with his unique perspective and unmistakable voice. However, there is really no need to hear his versions of the Irish standard "Danny Boy" or the clunky rendition of Sting's "I Hung My Head," since something about them just doesn't fit -- either Cash wasn't entirely comfortable with the song or the performance was never fully realized. Luckily, the new songs Cash wrote for the album are pretty strong, and his cover of the standard "We'll Meet Again" is among the best versions of the song ever recorded. It is a relief to hear that, although Cash's voice is clearly older and not the booming powerhouse it was in the earlier Sun and Columbia days, he's still got some punch left in him, and the wisdom he's gained in his later life seeps through between the grooves, revealing a man who has lived through it all and lived to tell the tale. [American IV was also released with a bonus DVD featuring the award-winning video for "Hurt."]

Zac Johnson, Rovi

Kacey Musgraves could easily be contemporary country's next big thing. She's a sharp, detailed songwriter with a little bit of an edge, and while it's tempting to think of her as another coming of Taylor Swift, say, she's got the kind of relaxed sureness about what she's doing as a songwriter and performer that puts her closer to a Miranda Lambert. On her first nationally distributed album, Same Trailer Different Park, she definitely sounds more on the Lambert side of things, with a sparse, airy sound that lets her lyrics shine, and she'd as soon use a banjo in her arrangements as a snarling Stratocaster. From her debut single, the marvelous "Merry Go 'Round" (which is included here as the third track), Musgraves showed an intelligent, careful writing style that is as pointed as it is poignant, and even though the song seems to skewer small-town country life, it does it without malice or agenda, and is really more just telling it true than anything else, a trait that ought to be treasured in Nashville but usually isn't. Nashville wants one to tell it true as long as that telling conforms to the template, which Musgraves isn't likely to do. "Merry Go 'Round" might be the best song here, but there are others that are nearly as good, like the lilting, wise opener, "Silver Lining," the implausible "Dandelion" (one wonders how she manages to make such a winning song out of such a metaphor, but she does), and the gutsy (and again, wise) "Follow Your Arrow," all of which feature clear-eyed observations, unintrusive but appropriate arrangements, and a certain flair for telling it like it is and making it sound like bedrock, obvious wisdom. Musgraves has a sense of humor, too, and all of these traits add up to make Same Trailer Different Park more than a collection of songs just aiming for the country charts.

Steve Leggett, Rovi

It's not easy to follow up a blockbuster album like Chief, but on The Outsiders Eric Church manages to have his cake and eat it too. On tunes like the rough-and-ready title track, Church continues to deliver the kind of hard-hitting country-rock outlaw anthems that helped make him famous, but one listen to the almost psychedelic spoken-word section of the epic "Devil, Devil" tells you that Church has no intention of sticking to anything approaching a formula.

Jim Allen, Google Play

Loaded: The Best of Blake Shelton, is a solid collection of the country singer's singles, hits, and favorites from his five studio full-lengths, and the two six-track EPs he released in the latter year. Fifteen tracks deep, it begins with the two cuts that put him on contemporary country's radar -- "Ol Red" and "Austin" -- from his self-titled debut album in 2001. The Dreamer, from 2003, is represented by the its two best cuts, "The Baby," and the classic "Playboys of the Southwestern World." There are three from 2004's Blake Shelton's Bar & Grill, including Shawn Camp's stellar "Nobody But Me," and Shelton's reading of the Conway Twitty smash "Goodbye Time." Pure BS, from 2007, is showcased by a pair of numbers, including "The More I Drink" and a third, "Home," comes from the deluxe edition of album. There's a solid version of "She Wouldn't Be Gone" from 2008's Startin' Fires to round things out. The first 11 tracks were a given, and Shelton's annotations in the booklet make a solid case for their inclusion. That said, Shelton also tacks on the title track from the Hillbilly Bone, "Six Pack," as well as "Kiss My Country Ass" from the same set. Further, "Who Are You When I'm Not Looking" and the title track from the second EP are here. All four of these songs were released earlier in the calendar year, making their appearances seem redundant at best and, frankly, like a cynical money grab at worst. Oftentimes, less really is more.

Thom Jurek, Rovi

Given his subsequent superstardom, culminating in no less than an Academy Award, it may be easy to overlook exactly how demonized Eminem was once his mainstream debut album, The Slim Shady LP, grabbed the attention of pop music upon its release in 1999. Then, it wasn't clear to every listener that Eminem was, as they say, an unreliable narrator, somebody who slung satire, lies, uncomfortable truths, and lacerating insights with vigor and venom, blurring the line between reality and parody, all seemingly without effort. The Slim Shady LP bristles with this tension, since it's never always clear when Marshall Mathers is joking and when he's dead serious. This was unsettling in 1999, when nobody knew his back-story, and years later, when his personal turmoil is public knowledge, it "still" can be unsettling, because his words and delivery are that powerful. Of course, nowhere is this more true than on "97 Bonnie and Clyde," a notorious track where he imagines killing his wife and then disposing of the body with his baby daughter in tow. There have been more violent songs in rap, but few more disturbing, and it's not because of what it describes, it's "how" he describes it -- how the perfectly modulated phrasing enhances the horror and black humor of his words. Eminem's supreme gifts are an expansive vocabulary and vivid imagination, which he unleashes with wicked humor and unsparing anger in equal measure. The production -- masterminded by Dr. Dre but also helmed in large doses by Marky and Jeff Bass, along with Marshall himself -- mirrors his rhymes, with their spare, intricately layered arrangements enhancing his narratives, which are always at the forefront. As well they should be -- there are few rappers as wildly gifted verbally as Eminem. At a time when many rappers were stuck in the stultifying swamp of gangsta clichés, Eminem broke through the hardcore murk by abandoning the genre's familiar themes and flaunting a style with more verbal muscle and imagination than any of his contemporaries. Years later, as the shock has faded, it's those lyrical skills and the subtle mastery of the music that still resonate, and they're what make The Slim Shady LP one of the great debuts in both hip-hop and modern pop music.

Stephen Thomas Erlewine, Rovi

It's hard to know what to make of Eminem, even if you realize that half of what he says is sincere and half is a put-on. The trick isn't just figuring out which is what -- it's realizing that there's truth in the joke, and vice versa. That's why many listeners and critics were taken aback by his dark, carnival-esque debut The Slim Shady LP, even dismissing his considerable skills as a rapper and social satirist because the vulgarities and gross-out humor were too detailed, even shocking, for some to believe that it was anything "but" real. As it turns out, that very blurring of boundaries is what gave the record depth, and to Eminem's credit, he decides to exploit that confusion on his masterful second record, The Marshall Mathers LP. Some may think that it's significant that he named the album after his birth name, that the recording will be more personal or introspective than a debut named after his stage persona's alter ego (how post-modern is that, anyway?), but that's just not the case. Eminem is all about blurring the distinction between reality and fiction, humor and horror, satire and documentary, so it makes perfect sense that The Marshall Mathers LP is no more or no less "real" than The Slim Shady LP. It is, however, a fairly brilliant expansion of his debut, turning his spare, menacing hip-hop into a hyper-surreal, wittily disturbing thrill ride. The Marshal Mathers LP is both funnier and darker than his debut, with jabs at pop star peers ("The Real Slim Shady") sitting virtually side-by-side with violent fantasies of retribution ("Kim," written about the mother of his child -- who he reconciled with and married after recording this track). Eminem's writing is so sharp and clever that the jokes cut as deeply as the explorations of his ruptured psyches. Thankfully, the production is nearly as evocative as the raps, matching the tone of the lyrics with liquid basslines, stuttering rhythms, slight sound effects, and spacious soundscapes. There may not be overpowering hooks on every track -- just enough to ensure radio play -- but the album works as a whole, always drawing a listener into the paranoid, violent, and very funny world of Eminem. But, once you're in, Eminem makes no compromises. He doesn't care if you understand exactly where he's at, and he doesn't offer any apologies if you can't sort the fact from the fiction -- that's your job as a listener. As an artist, he's supposed to create his own world, and with this terrific second effort, he certainly has. It may be a world that is as intriguing as it is infuriating, but it is without question his own, which is far more than most of his peers -- in both hip-hop and rock -- are able to accomplish at the dawn of a new millennium. [The Marshall Mathers LP was also released in a "clean" version, containing no profanities or vulgarities. It might miss the point somewhat, since profanity is part of Eminem's genius -- or, it could be as simple as his claim "Will Smith doesn't have to cuss to sell records/Well, I do...so **** him" -- but this will certainly be of use of to worried parents.]

Stephen Thomas Erlewine, Rovi

It's all about the title. First time around, Eminem established his alter-ego, Slim Shady -- the character who deliberately shocked and offended millions, turning Eminem into a star. Second time at bat, he turned out The Marshall Mathers LP, delving deeper into his past while revealing complexity as an artist and a personality that helped bring him an even greater audience and much, much more controversy. Third time around, it's The Eminem Show -- a title that signals that Eminem's public persona is front and center, for the very first time. And it is, as he spends much of the album commenting on the media circus that dominated on his life ever since the release of Marshall Mathers. This, of course, encompasses many, many familiar subjects -- his troubled childhood; his hatred of his parents; his turbulent relationship with his ex-wife, Kim (including the notorious incident when he assaulted a guy who allegedly kissed her -- the event that led to their divorce); his love of his daughter, Hailie; and, of course, all the controversy he generated, notably the furor over his alleged homophobia and his scolding from Lynne Cheney, which leads to furious criticism about the hypocrisy of America and its government. All this is married to a production very similar to that of its predecessor -- spare, funky, fluid, and vibrant, punctuated with a couple of ballads along the way. So, that means The Eminem Show is essentially a holding pattern, but it's a glorious one -- one that proves Eminem is the gold standard in pop music in 2002, delivering stylish, catchy, dense, funny, political music that rarely panders (apart from a power ballad "Dream On" rewrite on "Sing for the Moment" and maybe the sex rap "Drips," that is). Even if there is little new ground broken, the presentation is exceptional -- Dre never sounds better as a producer than when Eminem pushes him forward (witness the stunning oddity "Square Dance," a left-field classic with an ominous waltz beat) and, with three albums under his belt, Eminem has proven himself as one of the all-time classic MCs, surprising as much with his delivery as with what he says. Plus, the undercurrent of political anger -- not just attacking Lynne Cheney, but raising questions about the Bush administration -- gives depth to his typical topics, adding a new, spirited dimension to his shock tactics as notable as the deep sentimental streak he reveals on his odes to his daughter. Perhaps the album runs a little too long at 20 songs and 80 minutes and would have flowed better if trimmed by 25 minutes, but that's a typical complaint about modern hip-hop records. Fact is, it still delivers more great music than most of its peers in rock or rap, and is further proof that Eminem is an artist of considerable range and dimension. [The clean version of this album has been edited in attempt to remove profane material.]

Stephen Thomas Erlewine, Rovi

If Eminem's Curtain Call: The Hits really is his final bow and not merely a clever denouement to his series of Eminem Show and Encore albums, it's a worthy way to retire. And even if he stages a comeback years from now, there's little question that the first five years of his career, spanning four albums plus a soundtrack, will be his popular and creative peak, meaning that the time is right for Curtain Call -- it has all the songs upon which his legend lies. Which isn't necessarily the same things as all the hits. There are a few odds and ends missing -- most notably one of his first hip-hop hits, "Just Don't Give a F***," plus 2003's "Superman" and 2005's "Ass Like That" -- but all the big songs are here: "Guilty Conscience," "My Name Is," "Stan," "The Real Slim Shady," "The Way I Am," "Cleanin' Out My Closet," "Lose Yourself," "Without Me" and "Just Lose It." They're not presented in chronological order, which by and large isn't a problem, since the sequencing here not only has a good, logical momentum, alternating between faster and slower tracks, but they're all part of a body of work that's one of the liveliest, most inventive in pop music in the 21st century. The only exception to the rule are the three new songs here, all finding Shady sounding somewhat thin. There's the closing "When I'm Gone," a sentimental chapter in the Eminem domestic psychodrama that bears the unmistakable suggestion that Em is going away for a while. While it's not up to the standard of "Mockingbird," it is more fully realized than the two other new cuts here, both sex songs that find Shady sounding as if he's drifting along in his own orbit. "Shake That" has an incongruous Nate Dogg crooning the chorus, while the wildly weird "Fack" finds Eminem spending the entire track fighting off an orgasm; it seems tired, a little too close to vulgar Weird Al territory, and it doesn't help that his Jenna Jameson reference seems a little old (everybody knows that the busty porno "It" girl of 2005 is Jesse Jane; after all, she even was in Entourage). Even if these three cuts suggest why Eminem is, if not retiring, at least taking a long break, that's fine: they're reasonably good and are bolstered by the rest of the songs here, which don't just capture him at his best, but retain their energy, humor, weirdness, and vitality even after they've long become overly familiar. And that means Curtain Call isn't just a good way to bow out, but it's a great greatest-hits album by any measure.

Stephen Thomas Erlewine, Rovi

This may be the soundtrack for Eminem's movie debut, but don't think of 8 Mile of as an Eminem album, because it's not. It's a soundtrack and plays like a soundtrack, with many cuts from current stars and new artists (several associated with Eminem's fledgling Shady imprint), plus a couple of previously released tracks, most of it very high quality, whether it's a hard-hitting Jay-Z, a sultry Macy Gray, or Taryn Manning's Boomkat's sexy slow burn "Wasting My Time." Sure, there's a couple of tracks that fall flat -- Young Zee and Obie Trice feel strained -- but it all flows well, and it's all strong. But it's also all overshadowed by four blindingly great new songs from Eminem (four and a half, if you count his show-stealing appearance on D-12's "Rap Game"), all illustrating a step forward from The Eminem Show, even if they work a familiar pseudo-biographical ground. What impresses is not just the wordplay and delivery, but the music itself -- fuller, richer than anything on his previous records, appropriately cinematic in scope and pushing Eminem toward new heights. The opening track and first single "Lose Yourself" is easily equaled by the title song with its layered pianos, while "Rabbit Run" is nearly as good. Hearing these, it's hard not to greedily hunger for a full album of this, but the soundtrack is excellent as is and these new Eminem cuts make it a necessary purchase.

Stephen Thomas Erlewine, Rovi

Released without the usual flurry of hype, Before I Self Destruct fulfills 50 Cent's contractual obligation to the Interscope label. It also doubles as a throwback album, returning the rapper to the hunger and hatred of his early mixtapes while skillfully recasting him as a wannabe upstart. That is, for the most part. The four radio-friendly bedroom numbers that conclude the album are out of place but fairly good to dime-piece beautiful, with the best being the Ne-Yo showcase “Baby by Me” (“Have a baby by me, baby/Be a millionaire”). As pleasing as these final numbers are, if you leave the room after the macho bruiser “I Got Swag” (“I'm infinitely special/Girl the Lord is gonna bless you/If you do what I tell you to do”), you'll return to a confusingly different album, one that's as glamorous but less vital. The monstrous run of tracks that leads up to this flash and polish can be summed up by 50's “This ain't Tha Carter/It's Sparta!,” a witty, deceptive, and brutish line barked over a prime Dr. Dre beat during the great “Death to My Enemies.” On the cut, the producer sounds like he's been digging on RZA, but the tension and dark-night feel he has created for “Psycho” is easily identifiable as Dre. Add an especially rapid 50 trading horror-show rhymes with Eminem and the G-Unit soldiers will testify that the Shady/Aftermath dream is still alive. While “So Disrespectful” is the perfect title for a song that shocks, stuns, and brings reminders of the gritty G-Unit Radio mixtape series at its best, the Rick Rock-produced “Stretch” is an even craftier balance of amoral and humorous as it references Plastic Man and Mr. Fantastic before explaining the profitable benefits of cutting cocaine. There are only three guest vocalists, and save a production credit for Havoc, the G-Unit posse is absent, and yet 50 is able to carry the album alone, sounding as inspired as he did on his Interscope debut. That album, Get Rich or Die Tryin', beats this one thanks to its proper balance and structure, but Before I Self Destruct is still a fantastic juggernaut of a 50 album if you exit early, and a very good one even if you don't.

David Jeffries, Rovi