Her intensely personal lyrics grabbed the headlines, but the bravest departure here is the way Morissette's unique vocals stand naked in the mix—a technique that drives home the painful honesty of tracks like "Right Through You,""Forgiven," and "All I Really Want." Sheryl Crow or an earthier Tori Amos are fair analogies, but Morissette is a genuine original with a rare ability to make listeners care, think, and question. —Jeff Bateman

When Alanis Morissette visited Mother India in 1997, she gained new composure and, in a state of numinous bliss, wrote 17 songs for Supposed Former Infatuation Junkie, each suffused with the search for enlightenment and self-knowledge. To the likely dismay of many fans, Morissette now rages at herself. But this long-awaited follow-up to 1995's record-smashing Jagged Little Pillis far from a disappointment. Imbued with dark, swirling psychedelic licks borrowed from Jimmy Page's song book, the disc is paradoxically both more enigmatic and revealing than Pill. And while Junkieshows that Morissette is no less stingy about revealing herself to her fans—her staccato stream-of-consciousness style is again employed to surrender her secrets and foibles a little too easily in these tales of abuse, lost love, and self-flagellation—Junkiealso makes one wonder what this musical sphinx holds back. In "Baba" she takes on competitive spirituality, sneering at the fashionable grasp for enlightenment. "Would Not Come" returns to a similar theme—taking us on a tour of her diary. "Would Not Come" and "Your House" offer the only hints of sexual innuendo. The only revenge she wreaks on an errant lover is in the percussive "Are You Still Mad," this time dishing up a much subtler payback than on "You Oughta Know." The record's standouts, meanwhile, are "Thank U" and the hip-poppy "So Pure." One complaint (and there is only one): Morissette's rapid-fire wordplay is at times engulfed by ponderous instrumentation. The worldbeat rhythms and elaborate guitar play add fresh twists to the album, but they also sometimes bury her message. —Jaan Uhelszki

Nevermind that Alanis Morissette's career spans back to her early teens and she has four prior CDs to her credit. It's just too early to go unplugged. Performances like this are better done in the privacy of one's acoustically appointed bathroom. An expressive, emotionally naked singer, Morissette bares a little too much on this outing. Recorded at New York's Brooklyn Academy of Music and produced solely by Morissette, there's absolutely nothing wrong with the carefully wrought songs and slices of her inner life, but there's little to be said about her shrill, thin delivery. Included is the never-before-released "No Pressure Over Cappuccino," which she debuted on her Jagged Little Pilltour, and two songs left off last year's Supposed Former Infatuation Junkie: "Princes Familiar" and "These Are the Thoughts." They were dumped for good reason. The only redeeming moment is her out-of-breath rendering of the coy "Head Over Feet."—Jaan Uhelszki

With all the attention Alanis Morissette's career has garnered, it's startling to think that on the release of her third studio CD she has yet to see her 28th birthday. Under Rug Sweptfinds Morissette in the producer's role, a position she seems more comfortable with at this stage than songwriter. The opener, "21 Things I Want in a Lover," finds Morissette ticking off her likes and dislikes before an attention-grabbing explosion of crunching guitar chords and a scratchy hip-hop beat. Swept's emotional flow is navigated by Morissette's vocal queues: her lower register accompanies confrontation and self-proclamation ("Narcissus"), the higher intimates vulnerability and reflection ("Utopia"). Every tone is enlivened by well-blended electronic and acoustic elements. The snag is that, as with her previous two albums, Under Rug Sweptis marred by unabridged stream-of-consciousness lyrics. Her awkward syntax and distorted phrasing disorients music that's melodious and compelling. She remains acutely self-obsessed, delivering rants aimed at men who are fatally flawed and, naturally, irresistibly devastating. For now, her greatest strength as a musician lies in her ear for a powerful melody. Lyrically, she'd be better off keeping her contorted prose In Closet Locked. —Beth Massa

It's been a long time in coming, but with So Called ChaosAlanis Morisette has finally produced a worthy follow up to her globe-conquering debut. Calmer and more focused, the songs exude a new, mature woman, firmly in control of her life. "I'm not threatened by every pair of legs you watch go by," she sings with Zen-like serenity on "I Doth Protest Too Much" (as if she'd have said that on Jagged Little Pill). Time mellows—leave the angst to Avril Lavigne.

Overexposure once made her fantastic voice grate, but now it's like welcoming back an old friend—that distinctive little warble, that softness…it's her most valuable asset and the simple, clean production wisely allows it to breathe freely. Most of the songs follow a slow, quiet verse/loud sucker chorus pattern and there's nothing on here that rivals anything from her debut, but everybody (including herself) has accepted that now. The absence of a world-class co-songwriter plays a part, but it's a refreshing change to see no external involvement. Accept Morisette for what she is—a female singer/songwriter with an exceptional, original voice and you won't be disappointed. —Ben Johncock

Intentionally or not, Andrea Echeverri's self-titled solo disc plays like a natural sequel to Julieta Venegas's Si. It's a comparison that both helps and hinders Echeverri, best-known as the lead vocalist for Colombian rock heroes Aterciopelados. All 12 tracks (and a bonus remix of "A Eme O") ride a mid-tempo, chill-out groove, anchored by Echeverri's thoughtful vocal work. And like Venegas's outing, Echeverri's album is a marked difference from earlier work, leaving behind crunchy rock guitars for lullaby-like arrangements and soulful grooves. But whereas the commercial appeal of Venegas's Sihad the taste of a calculated career move, Echeverri's work seems like a natural extension of her musical instincts. In fact, the album touches on Echeverri's recent pregnancy and the joys of motherhood, which gives the album the wistful, personal feel of a love letter. —Joey Guerra

There's an alternately ethereal and electric power pulsing through Gozo Poderoso, the stellar fifth album from Colombian duo Aterciopelados. Maybe that's because the team of vocalist-guitarist Andrea Echeverri and bassist Hector Buitrago have rooted their sound in traditional rhythms while deftly dipping it in some of today's most exciting genres. Each track on the album flows effortlessly into the next, but there's nary a hint of repetition. It's all tied together by intricate production and a spiritual intelligence that flows through many of the song lyrics. "Luz Azul,""Esmeralda," and "El Album" (the first single) are stand-outs, anchored by Echeverri's slyly seductive vocals. Cumbia, salsa, and vallenatointermingle with alt-rock riffs, electronica flourishes, and bossa nova rhythms. It's an intoxicating mix that's impossible to classify—and resist. —Joey Guerra

The debut of thundering supergroup Audioslave—featuring members of Rage Against the Machine post-Zack de la Rocha with ex-Soundgarden singer Chris Cornell—is as much curio as fascinating blend of visions. Cornell might be outnumbered, but his unmistakable holler and nihilistic imagery ensure that Audioslave, the album, recalls early Soundgarden. That's especially true since de la Rocha took Rage's signature rap and politicking with him. Still, if this is Soundgarden, it's Soundgarden set to stun. Rage guitarist Tom Morello is more of a mauler than Kim Thayil ever was—witness "Shadow on the Sun," which moves from bruising thud to psychedelic freak-out and back again—while the Rage rhythm section of Tim Commerford and Brad Wilk anchor the bottom end with pure instrumental cement. Intentionally or not, "Gasoline" bears passing resemblance to "Rusty Cage," while the sweeping "I Am the Highway" and slow-burning "The Last Remaining Light" best showcase Cornell's surprisingly New Age-y lyrical bent. Cover art by Storm Thorgerson, who gave Pink Floyd records their distinctive stamp, underscores the set's inherent celebrity. Fans of Rage and Soundgarden can raise clenched fists in unison, for Audioslave is win-win. —Kim Hughes

Cleverness is a delicate thing: go too far and it becomes self-parody; bury it too deep and it will be interpreted literally. Toronto's Barenaked Ladies have been walking this tightrope through five albums and, on their sixth, they continue to balance smirking social commentary with genuine emotion. The Ladies make their digs both lyrically and musically. "Conventioneers" unfurls the story of two people who relinquish their office-place sexual tension at a convention where a game of Scrabble over drinks leads to the bathtub, the bed, and the inevitable morning-after regret. Set in a lights-down-low groove, we all get a good snicker at the expense of two lonely suits. Likewise, "Go Home" commands a wandering-eyed country boy to return to his woman in a hearty, twangy romp. The disc is fleshed out with the band's dense, XTC-influenced jangle rock. This is the stuff that pasty, hopelessly undersexed white males drum up, half-delirious after endless Saturday-night binges on Dr. Whoand Fawlty Towersmarathons. It's self-righteous, verbose, and frustrated, yet defensively cautious enough to mask the lurking bitterness in terribly pleasant, melodious pop. —Beth Massa

The hiatus is back off, again, for the Beastie Boys, and music lovers will bob their heads with insuppressible glee. With its Nice & Smooth impersonations and shout outs to Brooklyn's Albee Square Mall, To the 5 Boroughs, their first album in six years, harkens the return of the trio to the city that made them who they are today. It's an up-tempo yet surprisingly homogenous assemblage of vintage electro-style party beats, and it's a strictly Beastie affair: the Boys co-wrote and produced each track themselves, which means that it sports none of the sonic fripperies and quirky collaborations that distinguished previous classics such as Paul's Boutique. Finally jelling after two years of on-again, off-again recording, To the 5 Boroughswill appeal to those fans old enough to remember the Licensed to Illtour. Those old-schoolers are sure to appreciate the album's mostly off-the-cuff lyrics and minimal-to-the-extreme musical landscape—even if its stripped-down sound may leave others longing for the days when the Boys were California dreamin'. —Rebecca Levine