Everyone, turn your head to the colossal monster that is The White Stripes to the front of the music scene!

Blue Orchid is a retro, foot-stomping menace of a single. It encompasses a very 80's hair metal and mixes their own concoction of garage simplicity into an explosive formula complete with: gritty guitar, wailing, introverted vocals, and heart resounding Meg White drumming: the finest around since Patty Schemel, and even she's coming back for The Licks with a similar sound to The Stripes. Oh yeah, and there's no salty aftertaste like hair metal, thank God.

Underestimated vocals are the name of the game; Jack White introduces yet another side of the simple toying of emotions he started to introduce back in the De Stijl days, (much like Ikea, but obviously more fashionable,) and confined it then sets it free as ravaging rage. It's suprisingly cloudy, nothing new, and you'll sit in a haze if you think during Blue Orchid.

I can only imagine what the rest of the album sounds like...

If only style wasn't so fleeting this album could landmark a change in music, much like Fleetwood Mac's Rumours or The Smith's God Save The Queen did....

Ah well, it's still excellent fun, with few flaws, if any obvious ones. It's not a change in music, no matter how fresh it is on MTV, it's a change in pop-culture and a wonderfully crafted one at that -- albeit, at the hands of many contributors and collaborators. Linda Perry has a few hit-or-misses in here; it seems as though everything she touches lately turns to absolute trash: Courtney Love's solo album, Pink's latest album, Christina Aguilera's U-turn record, all which could've been great. But it doesn't lessen the funk, dance, club, harajuku district stylings of Gwen Stephani/enter artist here's creation too greatly to hinder L.A.M.B.

It is oftentimes silly, pretentious and very fashion-crazed -- just one look at the lyrics will tell you that much -- but one thing it ain't is wannabe. Gwen Stephani is not the new Amber or PJ Harvey, she's an established female rock icon, leading of the third ska revival/rock-based 90s phenom, No Doubt. They changed music with Tragic Kingdom, revelling in the newfound glory that was buried under the drudgery of Nirvana's legendary Nevermind. They revived the happier, greener side of life, love, and rock-and-roll. Just don't expect Gwen to do it here.

I mentioned Fleetwood Mac for a reason because in many ways, Gwen is our generation's reflection upon Stevie Nicks. Infamous for collaborating, often dominating her records, a hit-maker, a genuine, but one thing Gwen has that Stevie doesn't is a full-length album worth your time. Nicks has yet to pull of a style change like Stephani did solo. Gwen Stephani has made changes much like No Doubt has. Through consistent albums and remarkable timing.

Call it crap, but it's a wall built for China of club hits that are meant for the charts. It's not music for dancing, primarily; it comes off as music for sex. It's so passionate: it moves from the blood rushing, dirty talk of the first five songs, (sans the happy break-up anthem of "Cool,)" to a New Order-ly masterpiece, "Real Thing," and throws in some in-your-face styling sensationalism represented greatly by the wonky, warped mania of "Danger Zone" through another spelling bee sing-a-long "Serious," the other being "Hollaback Girl," which is dominated by the percussion and a great anthemic lyric/beat combo. "What You Waiting For?" is one of those miracle songs you hear every once in a while, popping out of nowhere and being just so damn awe-inspiring. "Rich girl" is quite possibly the most noticeable rip off I've ever heard, bouncy and infamously rhythmic. If you haven't seen Fiddler on the Roof, you'll be completely lost to the irony of this song manipulation Gwen Stephani pulls off here.

Yet, among these finely-crafter tunes, imported attitudes, and simple astounding production, neither showcasing nor understating Gwen's distinct vocals, there are mishaps hidden under the covers. "Luxurious" isn't bad, but it isn't great, either. It's the kind of song that makes the album tracks wind off-course; therefore, something that many people will find themselves forcing their ears to listen to.
"Harajuku Girls" is only memorable through its annoyance of a chorus, "Harajuku girl/You got the wicked style/I like the way that you are/I am your biggest fan!" It's flooded with corny Japanese phrases yelled out by teenaged Japanese girls. "Long Way To Go" is much like "Luxurious" in a sense that it doesn't improve the album, its just filler. Although, I couldn't think of a more fitting sign-off to L.A.M.B. It's catchy, bouncy, yet intriguing in lyrics and ideals and keeps you wanting more of this album.

Not one to sell out, Gwen Stephani is creating her own empire, slowly but surely. She's got the cred, the style, the ambition, the reputation, and the talent. As it happens, she's finally making use of it and climbing oddly through thumping club landscapes all the way back to where she started out -- with No Doubt. Gwen stated many time that she's not going on any intervening solo endeavour, which may end up hindering her in the long run. It's a blessing that she didn't treat this as an album, nothing more. Every song has a distinct style, be it pirates, high school marching band revenge anthem, or lollitapop Alice In Wonderland. It's all in the rich tapestry that's where visual thematics meet music. L.A.M.B. is one of 2004's finest pop albums -- even if you're feeling too guilty to say so yourself.

There's not a much sweeter song that ABBA has made to date than S.O.S.

It's a pitch-perfect off-the-wall song that starts slowly with a melancholy guitar and piano, working into a beautiful vocal work that emotes much more than was evitable in the lyrics, pen-and-paper.

It evolves into a sigh of relief and bloodpumping pop/rock ascending chorus, which explodes into a minor-noted, happy/desperate "When you're gone" wave of foot-stomping purity.

A perfect song (if such existed) that is as underestimated then as it is now. It's songs like these that paved the wave in ABBAs albums for those like Madonna and the Spice Girls included the dance-pop craze that exploded over the next two decades and extended into the 21st century. Excellent job, ABBA.

In many words, Courtney Love has more than sufficed for her career as a Hole frontwoman, but she cam eback with the toungue-in-cheek titled America's Sweetheart to mixed reviews.

It's true that the production values on some of the released song that were chosen from 20 songs to make it on her debut solo effort fall short of the unreleased versions, especially of Sunset Strip. And why the masterpiece, blood-gushing GFly was never placed on the American version of the album is a reason I fail to see the point to. It could've made America's Sweetheart just that much better, maybe even have broken her through onto the commercial scene to reap the seeds she sowed with Hole before they disbanded.

Critics were salvating at the chance to get a hand on AS and it's no wonder. Courtney Love could've written and recorded the Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band album and still not have gotten any respect, simply because of her widow status and the obnoxious behaviour. All of the hype surrounded her for the past 12 years, since Hole's sophomore, pop-savvy grunge masterpiece, and Celebrity Skin, the glittering, sardonic final album that brought them fame higher than Live Through This ever produced. It's exactly the point between these two albums that America's Sweetheart meets, except Courtney does run a little bit down the garage/punk line and this EP shows it. No doubt with a little touring help from her helpers, The Chelsea, this was the promotional EP to have last year.

Love's no longer the grunge princess anymore, she's shed that snake skin. Courtney Love is lurking in the glamourous darkness that is the tabloids section. If Fly and Mono don't break the spell, I'm not sure what can in the world. For the 21st century, just like the 20th past, Courtney Love stands as the icon of the commercial acceptance factoring greatly over true blue-blooded talent.

This is a song to be remembered for the ages. Coldplay has achieved something marvelous on "Speed of Sound."

The lyrics are billiant with lines like, "Birds come flyin' at the speed of sound/To show you how it all began," ringing through the climax in the choruses.

Gone are the cold, harsh, wintery guitars and pianos. In come warm and sunshine-fresh. It's so odd because it fits them perfectly! The audience would think this would make them crash and burn in the charts, but it only heightens the euphoric experience. A Chris Martin enlightenment is very apparant, most likely because of his and Paltrow's new baby, Apple. It's no wonder Coldplay turned their classic sound around.

It's a beautiful vision of what is to come from the creative tour-de-force that is Coldplay on their upcoming album, X&Y. Chris Martin has even stated that they may not be able to better the new album. I'm probably not the only one salvating for the new music.