POP/ROCK

Justin Bieber, "My World 2.0" (Island)

This much is clear from the rise of this 16-year-old pop-R&B phenom: We have the technology, the means to chisel a bona-fide American singing star from a Canadian sprite with a gorgeous swoop of hair, an emphatic grin and only the rudiments of vocal control and power. That cleanly humming machine has streamlined the creation process, outwitted it really. Bieber's debut EP, "My World," released in November, was the gateway purchase: a handful of songs, each more sugary and sticky than the next. What initially appeared to be a trifle of a release quickly swelled to a force filling a teen-dream vacuum.

The crucial Bieber innovation is to feed the fire before it has the chance to wane. Given that, "My World 2.0" is far sharper than it needs to be, an amiable collection of age-appropriate panting with intermittent bursts of misplaced precociousness. "Baby" captures puppy love gone sour. (Ludacris, who is featured on the song, sounds disorientingly old, like a blubbering uncle.) Bieber's fumbles are easily muffled by his production -- more technology -- which, while less ambitious here than on his debut EP, is still brutally effective. There's charmingly toothless R&B on "Stuck in the Moment," European dance-pop on "Somebody to Love," and on "Runaway Love," there's a winning amalgam of New Edition and Depeche Mode's "Policy of Truth."

There is one more stroke of technology that shouldn't be overlooked: apart from T-Pain, few vocalists in American pop are more processed than Bieber. When he makes an unlikely jump between notes, you can almost hear the software at work.

Bieber performs June 29 at Target Center.

JON CARAMANICA, NEW YORK TIMES

Titus Andronicus, "The Monitor" (XL)

"I never wanted to change the world / but I'm looking for a new New Jersey / because tramps like us, baby we were born to die," Patrick Stickles declares, deftly merging Billy Bragg and Bruce Springsteen on Titus Andronicus' second album. The shredded vocals, buzz-saw guitars and defiant attitude signify punk rock. But the northern New Jersey band favors messy excess over concision. "The Monitor" is epic -- 65 minutes, with half of its 10 songs surpassing 7 minutes -- and exhilarating, with unflagging energy and momentum.

"The Monitor" is full of battle-cry choruses but Stickles is just as likely to turn to self-recriminations and make "You will always be a loser" a cathartic sing-along. Like Bright Eyes' Conor Oberst, he's an impressive writer skilled in metaphor and multilayered narrative. Titus Andronicus knows history, but would rather recontextualize it than simply repeat it.

STEVE KLINGE, PHILADELPHIA INQUIRER