One By One
Foo FightersCA/Roswell
Even though most of One by One was penned before Dave Grohl took his turn drumming for misanthropic heavies Queens of The Stone Age, it's pretty obvious that the former Nirvana skinsman already had The Rawk on his mind. The fourth Foo full-length is built on a foundation of thick distortion and heavy rhythms, at times augmenting the pop hooks of 2000's There Is Nothing Left to Lose, but most often digging something rather catchy out of a pile of seething riffage.It doesn't seem like a return to the eclecticism and pummel of The Colour and the Shape, which many consider their best effort, so much as a reaction to the constrained, traditional structures and light dynamic of Nothing Left to Lose. One by One presents all of the elements the Foos have dabbled in over the length of their career, excepting the occasional fast, punky dashes of their early albums.
The throbbing anthem ("Halo," "Come Back"), the upbeat crescendo (first single "All My Life"), the swinging light touch ("Disenchanted Lullaby"), and the infectious modern rock/pop hit ("Times Like These," "Overdrive") are all represented here, albeit with a heavier hand than we've heard in a while from the foursome.
One by One is undoubtedly the most cohesive Foo Fighters album yet; unfortunately, it's also the closest to mediocre, at least upon first listen. While "All My Life" and "Times Like These" stand up to their best work, little else here really demands attention and memory space right off the bat. Repeated exposure breeds the kind of admiration we're used to giving them, in terms of detail and musicianship, but it seems like a bit too much of the disc's material trades songcraft for muscular execution.
Having said that, it must be added that the Foos have set a pretty high standard — a less-than-stellar Foo Fighters tune is still a pretty good one, and One by One is certainly worth repeated listens. It just seems to lack some of the timeless, immediately engaging quality that has characterized their previous efforts. 
—Scott Harrell
Shaman
Santana
Arista
Why mess with success? Carlos Santana spent decades slipping in and out of varying degrees of commercial achievement and then blew the roof off with 1999's Supernatural. Gazillions sold. Shaman follows essentially the same pattern: It's built on star vocal cameos (Musiq, Michelle Branch, Macy Gray, Seal, Dido, P.O.D., even Placido Domingo), along with myriad producers and writers (including two by Rob Thomas). At least the tunes were set to Santana specs — lotsa Afro-Cuban grooves and call-and-response vocals. Most of the stuff is pretty listenable, in a Latin-pop sorta way, but, in all, Shaman comes off as prefabricated and shallow. (The disc's most honest and appealing track is the unabashedly poppy Branch vehicle 'The Game of Love.") Santana's trademark wailing guitar licks pepper all the songs, but only a handful of moments really crackle with six-string commitment. It's like Santana's a guest on his own album. 
—Eric Snider
Focus
Arthur Blythe
Savant, www.jazzdepot.com
In the late '70s, alto saxophonist Arthur Blythe was part of a grand gesture by Columbia Records to provide a major label voice for edgy jazz. The whole campaign got swept aside by mediocre sales (what did they expect?) and Wynton Marsalis' early '80s neo-conservatism. Blythe quickly found himself underground again. His occasional albums since have been hard to find. Focus is a revelation of sorts, especially for past fans who'd lost track of him. Working with a unique ensemble that includes tuba player Bob Stewart, drummer Cecil Brooks and Gust William Tsilis on concert grand marimba, Blythe has managed to make an album that's both challenging and eminently listenable. Blythe's sax tone has always been built around a razory rasp and coiled vibrato, but he's loosened it up over the years, imbuing it with a hint of the mellifluous. His sharp, darting phrases are countered now by legato musings. The disc's selections run the gamut: Monk's lullaby 'Children's Song," a jaunty romp through the blues 'C.C. Rider," a fragile take on Duke's 'In a Sentimental Mood." As for originals, there's the loping 'My Son Ra," the simmering 'Bubbles," the stripper blues 'Night Creeper" and others, all with distinctively appealing melodies that are enhanced by the band's rich, unique blend of sonic colors. 
—Eric Snider
The Only Blip Hop Record You Will Ever Need, Vol. 1<
Various Artists
Luaka Bop, www.luakabop.com
Luaka Bop label head David Byrne declares in his extensive (and slyly funny) liner notes, '(Northern Europeans) are the first people on earth to create and live in complete harmony with their machines." It has to do with the weather, mostly, but we won't get into all that. What's important is that this compilation of computer-generated music made by mostly Northern European acts (Mouse on Mars, To Rococo Rot, Schneider TM, Pole, Mental Overdrive and others) is so surprisingly digestible. The pieces revel in their own chilliness, their terse rhythms, their looped computer effects. Some selections are more song-oriented: Mouse on Mars' 'Mykologies" features faux horns and a Prince-like vibe. Trineo's 'Humorosso," by comparison, artfully interlaces a series of robotic blips and bleeps, as does Skist on 'Shift." Blip Hop does not constitute every-day listening (for most of us, at least), and despite the 'Vol. 1" in the title, it'll indeed probably be the only blip hop record you'll ever need. —Eric Snider
This article appears in Oct 30 – Nov 5, 2002.