Much has been made of Elton John's recent return to his songwriting roots, and Peach Tree Road continues this approach. Much like predecessor, Songs from the West Coast, the flabby excesses that dogged his musical output in recent times have been tucked away, sent home, and vanquished. What we have now, at least for the most part, is a somewhat muted affair: weary, with some fairly creaking production (the seventies style watery vocals, for instance, on opener "Weight of the World" are actually quite effective). It's been a long journey, on a long road, and even the man himself is "amazed that [he's] still around. "Elton's made no secret of the ear he holds out to the present competition, Ryan Adams in particular, and "Turn the Lights Out When You Leave", with its edges singed with country twang shows his admiration as inspirational. He slips up, with the pomposity of "Answer in the Sky" and the melodies seem to have run dry for the second half, but gems such as the rousing and rasping "They Call Her the Cat" are pleasantly reminiscent of his hipswinging, boogie days. More of these, and less bland tinkling would have pushed this further, but it's still a refreshing change that he'd be wise to continue. -Ben Johncock.

Not his best record-then again, none of them are, though every single one ought to be. Vandross was the first one to come down with Whitney's Syndrome, meaning he's got the chops, but not the taste. Not that he's got the chops to be Al Green (or, for that matter, Barry White), but Vandross on this disc is more frustrating than exhilarating. The man's got it in him, and sometimes, you wonder if he'll ever find it. -Robert Wilonsky.

What you make of Bon Jovi's seventh album largely depends on whether you believe Jon Bon Jovi really knows what it's like to be "two paychecks away from living out on the street". These Days is the songwriter's leap towards Springsteen immortality. He fails, but that isn't to say the album isn't the band's most interesting, diverse and artistically rewarding of their career to date. The first recorded without bassist Alec Jon Such, it needed the characteristics of a "second album", following as it did the professional and artistic renascence of Keep the Faith. What they've produced is a side-step, a progression, and not necessarily an obvious one. The title track is possibly their most mature effort, where "even innocence has caught the midnight train" and "there ain't nobody left but us these days". The dusty Americana of "Hey God" and "All I Want Is Everything" deal (almost successfully) with what can only be termed "social issues", whereas "This Ain't a Love Song" is one of their finest ballads. The hitherto unencountered diversity continues in the form of the highly charged brass of "Damned", which charts the anguish of infidelity, and in an ongoing religious theme, strangely absent from previous work. At 14 tracks it suffers, with the plodding "Diamond Ring" being an inexplicable and unforgivable inclusion, just as "Always" and "Someday I'll Be Saturday Night" were tacked needlessly on to their best-of Crossroad. Jon Bon Jovi might not be the Boss, but he sure is a king. [+]

Much has been made of Elton John's recent return to his songwriting roots, and Peach Tree Road continues this approach. Much like predecessor, Songs from the West Coast, the flabby excesses that dogged his musical output in recent times have been tucked away, sent home, and vanquished. What we have now, at least for the most part, is a somewhat muted affair: weary, with some fairly creaking production (the seventies style watery vocals, for instance, on opener "Weight of the World" are actually quite effective). It's been a long journey, on a long road, and even the man himself is "amazed that [he's] still around. "Elton's made no secret of the ear he holds out to the present competition, Ryan Adams in particular, and "Turn the Lights Out When You Leave", with its edges singed with country twang shows his admiration as inspirational. He slips up, with the pomposity of "Answer in the Sky" and the melodies seem to have run dry for the second half, but gems such as the rousing and rasping "They Call Her the Cat" are pleasantly reminiscent of his hipswinging, boogie days. More of these, and less bland tinkling would have pushed this further, but it's still a refreshing change that he'd be wise to continue. -Ben Johncock.

The first album of the loose trilogy that also includes Rain Dogs and Franks Wild Years, Swordfishtrombones marked a radical departure for Waits, whose avant-garde ambitions became plain not so much in his lyrics or subject matter-the songs here deal, as do his older albums, with hard life on the wrong side of the tracks and dreams of escape and transcendence-but in the music, a sound somewhere between German cabaret music from between the wars and contemporary Manhattan rush hour. Odd time signatures, unusual instrumentation (glass harmonicas and brake drums, among others), and Waits's barked vocals make this one of his most individualistic and challenging albums. -Daniel Durchholz.