The Neptunes The Neptunes Present . . . Clones (Startrak/Arista)

The best Neptunes tracks are slightly idiotic and almost totally idiot-proof. To a rapper in need of a hit, this must seem like a good thing: Just buy one of those brilliantly simple synthesizer riffs, add two and a half verses and watch your song climb the charts. They helped Mystikal go pop, helped P. Diddy stay pop and helped Justin Timberlake leave pop behind. It's true: Tracks produced by the Neptunes aren't cheap, but once you're on top, you won't need them anymore.

That's the idea, anyway. But if it's hard to ruin a Neptunes beat, it's also hard to disguise one -- listeners recognize it as soon as they hear that thin drum sound, that moaned chorus, that one-finger horn section. And so the rappers come to resemble the dope fiends they sneer at: They go crawling back to the place where they scored a hit last time and promise themselves there won't be a next time, even though they know there will be. Pharrell Williams and Chad Hugo have made themselves indispensable.

So now it's time to show off. The Neptunes Present . . . Clones is a sampler for their record label, Star Trak. With appearances from most of the big-name rappers and wall-to-wall Neptunes beats, this should be the world's greatest hip-hop compilation -- and much of the time it is.

Busta Rhymes cackles his way through "Light Your Ass on Fire," a delirious course in gluteology delivered atop a beat that consists of almost nothing but percussion sounds. Snoop Dogg falls off the straight-edge wagon with "It Blows My Mind," a series of tightly written rhymes about chronic fatigue syndrome. Dirt McGirt (the Bastard formerly known as Ol' Dirty) bellows "Pop Shit" over a three-note track; Nelly borrows a few notes from "Hot in Herre" for "If." And on "Blaze of Glory," Clipse get handed a riotous track with a clattering backbeat punctuated by horn blasts -- the whole thing crackles and pops like bombs bursting in air. They murder it, and in the next few months, on mix tapes around the country, lots of other rappers probably will, too.

Not surprisingly, the most memorable performance comes from Ludacris, who outdoes everyone by treating his Neptunes beat (which sounds like a chopped-up version of "Southern Hospitality") as a shiny new toy, playing with it until it just about breaks. The song is called "It Wasn't Us," and he uses the title as the punch line for a series of cautionary tales: "You can get your whole crew, even niggas that owe you and ain't paid you shit/You can drink some cold brews, and throw on them old shoes, and jump in the whip/You can come and find us, and be right behind us, and insert the clips/You hear something go, 'Clap! Clap! Clap!' -- somebody went down, but it wasn't us."

iPod-enabled listeners will likely want to erase the two rock songs that appear in the middle. But the two Neptunes solo tracks are even more problematic, because they should be better. "Loser," by their alter ego N.E.R.D., welds a great, breezy riff to a lame chorus. And Pharrell's slow-jam-y "Frontin'" sounds more like an extended joke than a song, despite the Jay-Z verse. The Neptunes may be the greatest pushers around, but that doesn't mean they can do without their clients. (KELEFA SANNEH)

Bow Wow Unleashed (Columbia)

"All them bubblegum raps is about to cease," Bow Wow proclaims on "I Can't Lose," and he's only half-lying. Formerly hip-hop's top tot, Shad Moss is now sixteen, a man-child at play in the promised land. Unleashed, his third album, is part kiss-off to the past, part rocket-propelled chariot to a blingier, sexier tomorrow. An object of romantic affection even on his last album, Bow Wow returns the favor here on "Hey Little Momma." On "Eighteen," Bow Wow ruminates on the perks of coming of age, which apparently include a laissez-faire approach to relationships: "Yeah, I'm gonna ring you/But baby, I can't bring you." Young people -- sigh -- they grow up so fast these days. (JON CARAMANICA)

Alien Ant Farm Truant (DreamWorks)

It's amazing what a near-death experience will do to a guy. Okay, maybe the bus crash that injured lead singer Dryden Mitchell isn't the only reason Alien Ant Farm sound a bit more mature on this, their second album. Not only does this album sound a lot crisper and cleaner (thanks to the production by brothers Dean and Robert DeLeo of Stone Temple Pilots) than their debut, but all the touring they did behind that disc has made them stronger players as well. While such tunes as "1,000 Days" and "Sarah Wynn" find the guys rocking out as hard as they did on their first album, the band isn't afraid to showcase their sensitive side in such catchy ditties as "Glow" and "Tia Lupe." Let's just hope their next artistic growth spurt isn't accidental. (PAUL SEMEL)

Puffy Amiyumi Nice (Bar/None)

Praise the lord and pass the teriyaki. It's official: Pure, unadulterated fun is back and it's singing in Japanese. With Nice, Puffy AmiYumi's third full-length U.S. release (their tenth in Japan), the duo has bestowed upon audiences an album that is a delirious cocktail of power pop, disco glitter, ska punk, soulful balladry, hard rock and just about everything in between. Although the band may bring to mind a live version of the Powerpuff Girls (appropriately, one of the album's tracks is the theme to a Cartoon Network show), Puffy is blessedly more three-dimensional. Aided by producer and former Jellyfish drummer Andy Sturmer, Ami (Onuki) and Yumi (Yoshimura), have crafted songs that bring to mind everyone from the Ramones to the Go-Go's to Blondie (who receive an affectionate nod in "Sayonara"), but manage, despite these numerous shout-outs, to find a sound all their own. It's rare for an album to (literally) strike so many chords and rarer still for it to maintain a cohesive voice in the process, but when it does, it is nice indeed. (REBECCA MARX)

Adema Unstable (Arista)

Adema have caught a lot of guff for being a junior varsity version of Korn, but their second album suggests the central California quintet have a long way to go to reach even that status. Unstable is a predictable slog through the well-traveled halls of nu-metal drudgery. As a writer, frontman Mark Chavez lacks any sort of editorial filter, which makes for lyrics that range from ham-fisted and banal to unintentionally hilarious. "What makes me break down like a bitch?" he howls on the mechanical, riff-heavy, "Rip the Heart Out of Me." On "Stand Up," he tackles domestic abuse with the declaration, "This relationship is wack/You bastard, don't touch her anymore." The gooey, string-laden plodder "So Fortunate" is an inevitable and unsubtle cornball ode to his newborn son. All this guilelessness might be forgivable or even admirable if Adema had anything up their musical sleeves beyond the usual contingent of sub-Alice in Chains guitar riffs and brawny, effortful drumming. They don't. (DAVID PEISNER)

You Am I Deliverance (SpinArt)

Lack of commercial success in the United States hasn't hurt pop-rockers You Am I in their decade of record making. Three of their five studio albums debuted at number one in their native Australia, where they've filled stadiums and inspired young guns from Silverchair to the Vines. Their sixth release, Deliverance lives up to its name, echoing legendary pop progenitors such as Big Star, the Jam and the Kinks. Frontman Tim Rogers' clever lyrics and hip shaking hooks inspire head bopping ("Ribbons and Bows") and white-boy strutting ("Nifty Little Number"). But he's just as likely to rattle off an acoustic waltz-time ballad ("'Til the Clouds Roll Away") that reveals his penchant for folk and country, a tangent Rogers has explored further on solo albums. Even when it gets quiet, though, Deliverance never slows down; Rogers keeps it moving with road trip-beckoning chord progressions and grand melodies that could make harmony singers out of the tone deaf. (MEREDITH OCHS)

The Star Spangles Bazooka!!! (Capitol)

East Village attitude, meticulously tousled piles of hair, tight-fitting thrift store sport coats and rehashed primitive punk riffs -- you could easily be forgiven for thinking the new Strokes album has arrived prematurely. But Bazooka!!! is the tantalizingly titled debut from fellow New York natives the Star Spangles. In all fairness, their sound is sloppier -- livelier perhaps -- finding its source material in an entirely different corner of 1976. Where Julian Casablancas and company reference the Modern Lovers and Tom Petty, Spangles lead singer Ian Wilson goes straight for a glammed-out Johnny Thunders thing, and settles on boozed-up early Eighties Paul Westerberg thing. His band, meanwhile, plays sleazy buzz-saw riffs with moving intent, tearing through not-so-subtle songs about sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll like "I Live For Speed" and "I Don't Wanna Be Crazy Anymore." Sure, it's funnier than a Hanoi Rocks reunion concert, but at the right points it's also just as thrilling. (AIDIN VAZIRI)

Ocean Colour Scene North Atlantic Drift (Sanctuary)

On their sixth studio record, Ocean Colour Scene don't stray far from the mode of their pleasing 1996 Brit-rock breakthrough Moseley Shoals. The band still practices the same retro naturalism and love for soul and psychedelia, but amid the trad modness it gives increasing attention to breezy pop ditties and neo-folk melodies. The guitars are either huge (as on Big Star nod "Golden Gate Bridge"), funky (on the Faces-esque "I Just Need Myself") or rustic and jangly (on the narrative "Second Hand Car"). Either way OCS's soaring choruses swing for the cheap seats without pandering too often. Outside of some horns and tabla accents, and the Van Morrison-esque bonus "Will You Take Her Love," this is territory well-covered. But generally Steve Cradock's R&B-soaked riffs and stylized vintage guitar sonics remain magnetic and Simon "Foxy" Fowler's passionate crooning retains its own brand of allure. (JOHN DUGAN)

Loudon Wainwright III So Damn Happy (Sanctuary)

Even after thirty-five years of poignant songwriting and terrific live performances, Wainwright is still best known to the mainstream for "Dead Skunk," his 1972 Top Ten novelty hit, or for fathering Rufus and Martha. His daughter makes an appearance -- along with Van Dyke Parks and Richard Thompson -- on this highly entertaining collection of California shows from January 2002, which, by mostly concentrating on his 1990s output, could serve as a brilliant introduction to what that uninitiated mainstream has been missing all these years. In Wainwright's world, every funny song has a great punch line ("happy," after all, rhymes with "crappy"), including perhaps the best songs ever written about music downloading, or "Heaven," the latter a place where one can enjoy all the hedonism denied in life. But it's when he gets deadly serious, on songs like "The Picture," about the special love between a brother and sister," or "A Year," ditto between father and daughter, that Wainwright fully reveals what a wonderful, under appreciated American treasure he truly is. (BILL HOLDSHIP)

Matt Suggs Amigo Row (Merge)

On his second solo album, singer-songwriter Matt Suggs continues to sound uncannily like Ray Davies, albeit with an indie Americana slant. His vocals are soaked with wry humor, his tunes laid back but richly arranged. Yet the agreeably melodic, relaxed vibe coats an uneasily, oft-worried state of mind, even if takes a while for the more disturbing words to penetrate the pleasing surface. A romantic ode to a "Tehachapi Girl" turns out to be a fantasy based on a real estate ad; a New Year's celebration quickly turns into sour self-recrimination; intimations of unfaithfulness and affairs gone bad permeate even the love songs. Judicious use of ominous piano, creepy organ, and fleeting rural landscape imagery gives an updated American sheen to a record that otherwise often resembles the better kind of melodic British singer-songwriter rock of the early '70s. It's another strong effort from an enigmatic talent who deserves wider attention. (RICHIE UNTERBERGER)

Broken Social Scene You Forgot it in People (Arts&Crafts)

The Canadian collective Broken Social Scene play for the indie gourmet, as their remarkable sophomore effort You Forgot It in People covers a range of catchy, art-rock weirdness. The songs are as varied as the rotating musicians, all fifteen hailing from Toronto's experimental rock circuit, who play them. Which means nothing is straight here. Masterminds Kevin Drew and Brendan Canning, along with their hipster friends, race through frantic rockers only to pause at their most frenzied and then seduce again with slower, spacier numbers. From top to bottom People . . . is packed with unexpected treasures. There's the starry, ascending "KC Accidental," the groovy, horned instrumental "Pacific Theme," and the delicious mock-lullaby "Anthems for a Seventeen Year-Old Girl." Yet at the slightest hint of normalcy, a fog of grating guitars, haunting strings, and eerie moans deconstruct it into a noisy, masterful slop. And it is precisely this atmospheric mania, coupled with a tingling pop sensibility that gives People . . . it's backbone, as if daring you to enter. (BENJAMIN FRIEDLAND)

Consonant Love and Affliction (Fenway Recordings)

After a two-decade musical break, Clint Conley has not only returned to periodic action with post-punk icons Mission of Burma (with whom he wrote the Moby-covered "That's When I Reach for My Revolver"), but strikes another compelling chord with Consonant. The Boston quartet's second album is more fully realized, reflecting the chemistry that's grown between singer-guitarist-bassist Conley and guitarist Chris Brokaw (Come), bassist Winston Braman (Fuzzy) and drummer Matt Kadane. They shift gracefully from grungy crunch to ethereal pop melodies, evoking Sixties psychedelic rock, shoegazer guitar washes and folky indie-rock. Conley mulls love's frustrations over delicate picking in "She's Driving Fast," and the band assumes a country lope in "Night for Love," while guitars churn and propel "Mysteries of the Holiday Camp" and "Cauldron." Both lyrically -- in streamlined collaboration with poet Holly Anderson -- and musically, Conley has sidestepped mid-life crisis for appropriate rebirth. (PAUL ROBICHEAU)

(August 18, 2003)