POP/ROCK

Sheryl Crow, "100 Miles From Memphis" (A&M)

Crow sings with lots of heart, but not so much soul on this thematic album celebrating the traditional Memphis sound (Crow grew up not far away, in southeastern Missouri). Her voice simply isn't a comfortable fit for the buoyant arrangements.

Sonically, "100 Miles From Memphis" is impressive, a retro blast of horns and strings and major chords that balances '70s soul with roots music. And despite her atypical dependence on cover songs, Crow doesn't compromise herself lyrically, as she dispenses a blend of hopeful vibes, moody tangents, political jabs and seductive suggestions. Crow is also a sport about her vocal disconnect with the sound, smoothing out the awkwardness into something serviceable without resorting to unnatural crooning or belting. In addition, she eerily channels her former employer, Michael Jackson, on a rendition of the Jackson 5's "I Want You Back." She has guests, too, including guitarist Keith Richards on the reggae-lilting "Eye to Eye," Citizen Cope singing on his "Sideways," and Justin Timberlake on backing vocals for her simmering cover of Terence Trent D'Arby's "Sign Your Name."

No doubt "100 Miles From Memphis" is Crow's most ambitious release so far; it's also her least personal.

CHUCK CAMPBELL, SCRIPPS HOWARD NEWS SERVICE

HIP-HOP

Rick Ross, "Teflon Don" (Def Jam)

Associated Press
Rick Ross

Ross' fourth solo album establishes him as one of rap's most potent and creative forces. He's a ferocious character, an impressive rapper and, as heard on this strong album, a clever and loose thinker, willing to try out new poses.

There's "MC Hammer" the bombastic celebration of the rap good life. But that comes on the same album as "Tears of Joy," one of Ross' most striking songs. Following the clip of a Bobby Seale speech, Ross begins delivering lines in a measured fashion reminiscent of spoken-word poetry, the gaps between them adding heft to the emotion. Singing the hook, Cee-Lo taps back into the grit of his Goodie Mob days, delivering genuine ache. On the beat, oceanic drums and a wailing guitar, brought together by the producer No I.D., evoke a funereal mood.

It's a vast leap for Ross, who just a few years ago was compensating for his lumpy street talk with imposing personality. Now, he's grown. "Teflon Don" isn't the consistently sumptuous affair that his last album, the magisterial "Deeper Than Rap," was, but it's just as confident, a reminder that hip-hop social climbing isn't monochromatic.

He raps movingly about his parents on "All The Money in the World." "Live Fast, Die Young," featuring and produced by Kanye West, has the winning naivete of West's early work. "Aston Martin Music" has the seductive allure of quiet storm R&B.

And joining Ross is a smart selection of guests: T.I. and Jadakiss on "Maybach Music III"; a sinister Styles P on "B.M.F. (Blowin' Money Fast)"; and the always witty Gucci Mane on "MC Hammer."

JON CARAMANICA, NEW YORK TIMES