Naked brothers, moon parties and boyshorts factor into this Worst of 2008 prelude.
All-American Rejects and Fall Out Boy converse with Spirits using their own lyrics, but only one band emerges alive.
In the first installment of the Christmas Carol Compactor, a ghost haunted by Saliva's appalling career gets his revenge.
Amazon's personalized recommendations can be terrifying, if you're in the bad-music business.
Are random bar bands better than Hinder and Winger, even if they're striving to be Hinder and Winger? Why, yes they are.
T-Pain, The Killers, and other possibly UNDEAD artists, armed only with their lyrics, try to charm Bella.
'American Idol' stars David Cook and David Archuleta continue their rivalry by simultaneously releasing unenthralling albums. This time, Archuleta "wins."
Is there anything of value to glean from the latest Nickelback and Hinder albums?
"High School Musical 3" gets an infusion of actual teenage topics to prepare the franchise's fan base for their real future.
Hello, Snow Patrol. Hello, Robert Smith. I have heard your new albums. I would like to play a game.
After the surreal retardation of mandatory Wal-Mart music shopping, listening to AC/DC's 'Black Ice' proved anticlimactic.
With Hollywood Undead, Garbage Day finally reaches the bottom of the barrel.
Feist fails to charm this column's readers.
Blessed by a Broken Heart and Semi Precious Weapons repeat the worst stylistic and musical mistakes of the '70s and '80s.
The phrase "Big Bad World" will never ever be the same, and Plain White T's are to blame.
On 'Black Butterfly,' Buckcherry filthies up the Aerosmith formula.
Metallica ends its lengthy sabbatical from tolerability with "Death Magnetic," an album that's not quite perfect enough to earn the band a full acquittal for its decades of musical crimes.
MTV's Video Music Awards salute the few clips the station sees fit to air, most of which deserve a mooning more than a Moonman. Here's a guide to the bad, the worse and the ugly.
August's worst noise polluters include Family Force 5, Blues Traveler and Trapt, but not Beeda Weeda's tummy. Also, a tribute to Arabian "Something 2 Dance 2" Prince.
Timbaland accepts his toughest challenge: Yielding dance-floor gold from Chris Cornell's scorched throat.
Afraid of alienating millions of magazine-buying pre-teens, critics strained to depict the Jonas Brothers as a legitimate musical force instead of a neutered power-pop starter kit.
The first installment of the Educational Series briefly chronicles the history of R&B, from the genre's tragic pioneers to New Jack Swing to the current crap.
July's installment of The Compactor savages disco darlings Black Kids and crunk-rapping clowns 3oh!3.
The mini-column Glossy Archives examines forgotten bands as well as recognizable groups that weathered forgettable phases. GA's first subject falls into the former category (at least in America), partly because it chose to christen itself "A."
With Amy Winehouse suspended in a permanent state of slow decay, record labels race to create British soul-singer clones.
In an interview promoting its new Guitar Hero game, Aerosmith said game publishers are "the new record companies." If that's true, and all the "new records" are this dull, God help us all.
For seekers of musical nourishment, Warped Tour 2008 is like eight hours of exile in an arid, vulture-picked desert. Weep for the youth of today! More importantly, mourn any mature, sane people who get stuck attending as chaperones -- or critics.
The Compactor dismantles June's dumbest releases, including tap-dancing Tilly, Bush-less Gavin and the insipid Ting Tings.
If you enjoy latter-day Metallica, professional wrestling and car chases, you'll love Rev Theory's video "Hell Yeah" (but you'll probably hate this article).
Katy Perry aims for controversial and sexy, but instead she's annoying and potentially dangerous, given her proclivity for ruining enjoyable Internet phenomena.
Weezer's single "The Greatest Man That Ever Lived" combines at least ten different forms of music, all of which are played poorly. The song also provides a panoramic overview of Weezer's most off-putting traits while serving as a bloated testament to the band's precipitous decline.