"Get On Your Boots"

by U2

(Interscope)

This one is a Frankenstein monster. There's a sleaze-stomp groove of the sort I haven't thought about since the last time I accidentally heard My Life with the Thrill Kill Kult's "Sex on Wheels" (hey, U2 can start wearing cowboy hats again, as long as they're accompanied by black dusters, wallet chains, and leather pants), the verse structure is borrowed from Elvis Costello's "Pump It Up," Bono asks to be let into "the sound!" à la the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. Mostly it makes me wonder for which leg of the inevitable world tour U2 will ask Franz Ferdinand to open. My favorite moment: Bono mumbling, "I don't want to talk about wars between the nations," flagrantly defying the public record and more photo-ops than if they'd been stuck in the desert for a year with Anton Corbijn and a lifetime supply of Gatorade.

"Working on a Dream"

by Bruce Springsteen

(Columbia)

You couldn't ask for a more Springsteen-by-numbers song than this title cut from his new album, which got an instantaneous five-star Rolling Stone review like he was solo Mick Jagger or something. Judging from this worn-out slog ("I feel so far away," he sings; dude, you sound it), maybe it would be better if it were solo Jagger.

"Prom Queen"

by Lil Wayne

(Cash Money)

Proof positive that listening to modern rock radio is bad for your health. Music blogs have had a field day: "I probably wouldn't want to jack anything from his iTunes or give him control of the CD player in the car on a road trip, at least unless he promised to not play that Staind song again" (Marathonpacks); "What Engrish is to international communication, this is to genre crossovers" (Attackerman); "Something to be heard and never experienced again" (SoulBounce).

"My Life Would Suck Without You"

by Kelly Clarkson

(J)

Proof positive that listening to modern rock radio can actually be good for your health: Clarkson's "Since U Been Gone" consciously modeled itself on the Strokes if they dealt more blowout choruses à la Foo Fighters, and it was better than anything by either band. (And I like the Strokes, as well as the first couple Foo albums.) Then, Clarkson insisted on making a moody, personal album over the objections of label-head Clive Davis, and it bombed. This song is a bright-and-clear "Boss Knows Best" bumper sticker set to 50,000 megawatts of echo. As psychodrama, it's a solid A; as a recording, more like a B-minus. recommended