Sting has been so famous for so long and done so much -- the Police, the rain forest, the tantric sex (or was it?), the luxury-car commercial -- he has become easy to undervalue as purely a musician. The radiant Sacred Love is a vivid and frequently gorgeous reminder that Gordon Sumner is first and foremost a talented singer-songwriter. Sting clearly studied at the hyperintelligent, musically ambitious school of Paul Simon and Joni Mitchell, but he has consistently infused his postgraduate work with something his own: a wide-open global consciousness combined with a cool British reserve.

Sacred Love, the follow-up to 1999's Brand New Day, finds Sting in a soulful mood. "Send Your Love" pulsates like some twenty-first-century take on classic Stevie Wonder or Marvin Gaye, with a taste of "Desert Rose" for extra flavor. The gospel-tinged love song "Whenever I Say Your Name" finds Sting trading lines effectively with the Queen of Hip-hop Soul, Mary J. Blige. Sting and co-producer Kipper have smartly stripped back the polished wall of sound that has sometimes swamped Sting's solo work. The characteristically literate "This War" rocks as convincingly as anything Sting has done since back when Stewart Copeland was keeping his time. In spots -- such as the sleekly trance-y "Never Coming Home" -- Sacred samples some of the strengths that made the Police so arresting in the first place. Sting seems like a man focused on the future but drawing more freely upon his past with heart and soul. Sacred or profane, that's hard not to love. (DAVID WILD)

Dido Life for Rent (Arista)

Eminem's "Stan" and the soundtrack to TV's Roswell gave Dido the exposure that proves how pop with a little depth can outsell cookie-cutter crap if people get the chance to hear it. Like No Angel, her 1999 debut, Life for Rent isn't groundbreaking, but it has its own kind of integrity. The smooth-voiced Brit has been singing achingly over lush synths in her brother Rollo's club-music act Faithless since 1995, and their continued collaboration prevents the usual second-album slump. It also helps that she has experienced some heartbreak with her 12 million sales, having split with her longtime fiance last year. The resulting album packs messier emotional complications than its predecessor: When she admits, "I'm in love and always will be," on "White Flag," it's after having struggled and lost -- and in this case, her loss is our gain. (BARRY WALTERS)

Various Artists Martin Scorsese Presents the Blues: A Musical Journey (Hip-O/UME/Columbia/Legacy)

How do you define the blues? In the case of the five-CD anthology, Martin Scorsese Presents the Blues, the music is anything the famed director wants it to be. This turns out to be a surprisingly good organizing principle: Blues collections are too often dominated by the tastes of scholars and purists, whereas Scorsese and Co. have a broad sensibility that encompasses urban and rural blues, freely crosses racial lines and stretches around the globe. The first three discs in the roughly chronological collection manage to cover most of the essentials from Bessie Smith to Jimmy Reed without being too obvious. But Scorsese also finds the blues in Elvis Presley's musical miscegenation on "Mystery Train" and hears it in Chuck Berry's "Johnny B. Goode." The British blues invasion is well represented here, as is blues rock from artists such as the Allman Brothers Band and Stevie Ray Vaughan. There is even Bob Dylan's "Highway 61 Revisited," a song where the connection with the blues is more spiritual than musical. There's also plenty to quibble with: How can Lightnin' Hopkins be omitted from any blues anthology of this scope? Why include the Fabulous Thunderbirds' bland pop-rock tune "Tuff Enuff"? Still, the strength of The Blues is that it acknowledges that the best introduction to the music should retain a personal stamp. (RICHARD ABOWITZ)

Ying Yang Twins Me and My Brother (Koch)

There are a few things in hip-hop you can depend on -- one of them is Atlanta's Ying Yang Twins rapping about strippers, weed, drankin', and asses shakin' to the ground. D-Roc and Kaine are no innovators, and their third album, Me and My Brother, is a crunktastic rehash of their favorite pastimes. The production is again mostly booty bass-centric (as evidenced on "Grey Goose"), and the gravelly-voiced rappers don't aim much higher lyrically, either. The hook to "Georgia Dome" is so inane it crosses into self-parody as they chant, "Suck it, suck it, suck it, suck it, lick it, lick it, lick it, lick it." Like a fifteen-year-old boy getting laid for the first time, the Twins are so eager to get to their shouted, crack-pipe catchy hooks ("Hanh!," "What's Happnin!," "What The F***!"), the verses feel like poorly executed foreplay. The misogyny train takes a slight detour near album's end when the Twins follow their latest gripefest about women, "Naggin'," with a response track from newcomers Ms. Flawless and Tha Rhythum, "Naggin' (The Answer)." But after thirty-five minutes of leering and jeering, the equal opportunity dis-for-dat shot is a flaccid attempt at parity. (GIL KAUFMAN)

Lo-Pro Lo-Pro (413/Geffen)

What does Lo-Pro, the first signing to Aaron Lewis' label, say about the burly Staind frontman? That he's a complete narcissist, apparently. Lo-Pro's music replicates Staind's therapy-metal right down to the lighter-waving, minor-key riffs and miserable, spirit-crushing lyrics like "At least I'm nothing, at least I'm nothing like you." Close your eyes and you'll swear it's Lewis himself on "Reach" howling, "You'll never reach me, never see me sinking any lower." Of course, it could be worse: Staind is one of the more bearable bands from the current rock brigade, due in part to Lewis' general resistance to bombast. Lo-Pro plays it safe, picking up on his cues and fashioning an album that is thoroughly indistinct. (AIDIN VAZIRI)

Grand Champeen The One That Brought You (Glurp)

Over the past ten years, Grand Champeen have often been likened to early Soul Asylum and the Replacements, and The One That Brought You won't end those comparisons. While sparely-produced speed-rock tunes like "The Good Slot," "Matilda's Lament," and "Bottle Glass" careen ahead in the tradition of the band's forefathers -- crackling with reckless energy, distorted guitars, and passionate vocals -- it would be a mistake to accuse Grand Champeen of aping their idols. The quartet has a distinct flavor influenced as much by its own Austin scene as the one in Minneapolis almost two decades ago. Unlike the alt-country melodies that the Replacements used for comic effect and that Soul Asylum experimented with, Grand Champeen's honky-tonk riffs melt into the landscape of rock songs like "More Than Just a Friday" with a subtle authenticity of their own. (KRISTIN ROTH)

Maria My Soul (Dreamworks)

Though Denmark-born beauty Maria takes an active role in My Soul -- serving as executive producer and co-writing all of the songs -- she's not quite ready to compete with heavyweights like Beyonce, Mya and Christina Aguilera. Her confessional tracks swim in accusatory lyrics, heavy drums, ethereal string arrangements, pensive keyboards and the occasional electronic sequence, but they suffer from a degree of sameness. The hulking beats and restrained, breathy vocals of the title track melt too easily into songs like the chorus-heavy ballad, "I Give, You Take," creating one long, gooey sonic trip that dominates half the record. It isn't until the brooding "Always" that Maria takes a chance by straying from the vocal formula. Other darker tracks -- like the leering "Nowadays" and the danceable "I Hate to Love You" -- also leave a lingering mark and suggest that Maria has the depth, chutzpah and hunger to be a contender. (KERRY SMITH)

(September 29, 2003)