Taking Chances : Celine Dion

Taking Chances is not without its daring moments--we'll get to those--but the first order of business in any review of this much-hyped record, on which Celine Dion is said to have slunk away from her songbird instincts in favor of embracing her inner rock & roll wild child, should be fan reassurance. Therefore: fear not. Taking Chances has its share of poignant, pretty ballads (both "A Song for You" and "Right Next to the Right One" are goosebump-raisers) and love songs (the hopeful, heartfelt title track, which unfolds into an anthemic power ballad midway through, may be the best one). As far as standard Celine fare goes, in fact, Chances is likely her strongest non-French outing since 2002's A New Day Has Come; nobody unfolds a lyric with more care or nuance. And, as the subtle "My Love" deftly proves, any early-career instincts to over-sing have gone poof along with her '90s-era, sweet-natured-kook persona. Because it's a generous 16 songs long, it may even be possible to ignore the non-Celine-like moments on Taking Chances and just enjoy the more fan-faithful tracks. But that wouldn't be any fun, would it? There are songs here--"Can't Fight the Feelin'," "Fade Away," "That's Just the Woman In Me"--that will astound diehards and make fans of those who've dissed her for more than a decade. If you didn't think the diva behind Disney's "Beauty and the Beast" had it in her to screech from the bottom of her soul, a la Janis Joplin, flip to track 15 and guess again. --Tammy La Gorce

Carnival Ride : Carrie Underwood

While most country stars go forward and reach for mainstream pop records, like Faith Hill, Carrie Underwood went in reverse. Her first disc had more than a few pop elements but this disc starts off with a foot stomper, "Flat on The Floor" and doesn't let up with fiddles, twang and chorus after chorus that will make you want to shout them out of your car windows. To say she has made a solid country disc in the vein of vintage Reba or Dolly is an understatement.

Underwood has even learned some new vocal tricks, as if she needed more, "Get Out of This Town," builds from an already assured vocal into a firestorm. Underwood isn't afraid to just go with the vocal and give a stronger reading as well. That was evident in her cover of "I'll Stand By You," which was simply stunning.

"Carnival Ride," is void of any weak tracks and this day and age that's a rare finding, some are stronger than others but, Jebus, the girl is giving her all to prove that she's a more than just a pretty face who sings country, she's trying to prove it's in her blood. And when you hear "You Won't Find This," that brings about that sing songy chorus that Shania Twain loves so much, you'll be a happy camper with your purchase

As I Am : Alicia Keys

By the time this long-awaited album saw its release date, most fans had probably read at least a couple of interviews with Alicia Keys in which she explained that first single, "No One"--a firestorm of a song clearly born of a sore heart and steeped in serious soul-searching, was about her decision to retreat from the obligations of stardom when she found out a loved one was in need of her care. The anecdote sticks not just because it explained the song so well--you can actually hear the pain, commitment, and determination in her sultry voice--but because it gets at what makes the woman behind the music so appealing. There's only one way R&B artists grow to become legends, and it's by drenching the words they sing with feeling (think Gladys Knight, Roberta Flack). The skeptical listener might have had her doubts before As I Am, but there's no mistaking it now: Alicia Keys is well on her way to sharing a category with them. This record radiates not just old-soul maturity, the kind Alicia fans say makes her modern rarity, but real soul. Vintage-leaning hooks and horns grab hold on "Where Do We Go from Here" and an assortment of other songs, but Keys can also get by just fine without them, as she proves on more pop-flavored numbers like "Lesson Learned," with John Mayer, and "Superwoman." The genres may be smearing, she seems to say, but bring them on: she won't shrink back. Her commitment is not to a single style but to what's stirring her soul. Because of it, she's moving R&B, or something like it, from the hips back to the heart. --Tammy La Gorce

Raising Sand : Robert Plant and Alison Krauss

Perhaps only the fantasy duo of King Kong and Bambi could be a more bizarre pairing than Robert Plant and Alison Krauss. Yet on Raising Sand, their haunting and brilliant collaboration, the Led Zeppelin screamer and Nashville's most hypnotic song whisperer seem made for each other. This, however, is not the howling Plant of "Whole Lotta Love," but a far more precise and softer singer than even the one who emerged with Dreamland (2002). No matter that Plant seems so subdued as to be on downers, for that's one of the keys to this most improbable meeting of musical galaxies--almost all of it seems slowed down, out of time, otherworldly, and at times downright David Lynch-ian, the product of an altered consciousness. Yet probably the main reason it all works so well is the choice of producer T Bone Burnette, the third star of the album, who culled mostly lesser-known material from some of the great writers of blues, country, folk, gospel, and R&B, including Tom Waits, Townes Van Zandt, Milt Campbell, the Everly Brothers, Sam Phillips, and A.D. and Rosa Lee Watson. At times, Burnette's spare and deliberate soundscape--incisively crafted by guitarists Marc Ribot and Norman Blake, bassist Dennis Crouch, drummer Jay Bellerose, and multi-instrumentalist Mike Seeger, among others--is nearly as dreamy and subterranean as Daniel Lanois's work with Emmylou Harris (Wrecking Ball). Occasionally, Burnette opts for a fairly straightforward production while still reworking the original song (Plant's own "Please Read the Letter," Mel Tillis's "Stick with Me, Baby"). But much of the new flesh on these old bones is oddly unsettling, if not nightmarish. On the opening track of "Rich Woman," the soft-as-clouds vocals strike an optimistic mood, while the instrumental backing--loose snare, ominous bass line, and insinuating electric guitar lines--create a spooky, sinister undertow. Plant and Krauss trade out the solo and harmony vocals, and while they both venture into new waters here (Krauss as a mainstream blues mama, Plant as a gospel singer and honkytonker), she steals the show in Sam Phillips' new "Sister Rosetta Goes Before Us," where a dramatic violin and tremulous banjo strike a foreboding gypsy tone. When Krauss begins this strange, seductive song in a voice so ethereal that angels will take note, you may stop breathing. That, among other reasons, makes Raising Sand an album to die for. --Alanna Nash

Noel : Josh Groban

The Grammy-nominated, twenty-something, pop-classical phenomenon's fourth studio album is an expertly accomplished entry to the holiday marketplace. Noël tackles the familiar sounds of holiday music with a charmingly eclectic array of guest vocalists and a wide range of material. The songs range from the sacred to the secular, while Groban--buoyed in spots by none other than the London Symphony Orchestra--soars in his duets with Brian McKnight, Faith Hill, and the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. There's even a song with a gospel choir directed by Kirk Franklin. Produced yet again by crossover maestro David Foster, the arrangements never overwhelm the songs. Groban's smooth and supple vocals can be hard to categorize--seeing how his range is somewhere in-between a high baritone and a low tenor--but he always finds and emphasizes the emotional core of these songs. And whether they have origins in pop or classical music seems not to matter. The addition of messages from troops stationed in Iraq on top of "I'll Be Home for Christmas" is undeniably heart-wrenching, while the album's highlight is its most spare song, "It Came Upon a Midnight Clear," which finds Groban alone at his piano, sounding very much like some kind of angel. --Mike McGonigal