**James Blunt — “All the Lost Souls” (Atlantic Records)**
Aside from the impressive cover art, English singer James Blunt’s new album, “All the Lost Souls,” provides much of the same sound as his surprise 2004 hit debut. Although the overt sappiness that marked “You’re Beautiful” makes a return visit, Blunt can still write some decent folk pop.
Sept. 18

p. **KT Tunstall — “Drastic Fantastic” (Virgin)**
Scottish folk singer-songwriter KT Tunstall’s sophomore album sports a quicker pace than her previous work. Tunstall’s sound progresses somewhat, exemplified by her use of lead guitar and ukulele to expand her style. The album has been accused of overproduction and drowning out Tunstall’s exceptional voice.
Sept. 18

p. **“Silk” (New Line)**
Michael Pitt and Keira Knightley star as a French silkworm smuggler and his wife in this novel adaptation. The trader starts a secret romance with a Japanese concubine, but appears to be happy with his wife — who may suspect something. “Silk” spins a tale of love and appreciation in marriage.
Sept. 14

p. **“Back to You” (FOX)**
This new sitcom, created by Christopher Lloyd, stars Kelsey Grammer and Patricia Heaton as squabbling Pittsburgh news anchors Chuck Darling and Kelly Carr. In the pilot, Darling returns to Pittsburgh from another job and discovers he is the father of Carr’s young daughter — the result of a one-night stand.
Sept. 19

p. **“Kid Nation” (CBS)**
This new reality show places 40 children between the ages of eight and 15 in a town together and forces them to form a government with minimal help from adults. The show has been mired by questions of legality and morality, especially considering that parents gave CBS the right to make medical decisions.
Sept. 19

Kanye West and 50 Cent, two of the hip-hop scene’s most arrogant rappers, are battling for the number one spot on the music charts. Both uber-stars dropped new records Tuesday, so now we have the most hyped showdown in hip-hop history as we wait to see which album blasts from the most headphones of yeah-sayers and comes out on top.

p. This beefed-up feud is a little less daunting than, say, 50 Cent vs. Ja Rule or Kanye vs. Bush; it is more of a healthy competition and a clever marketing ploy to get listeners to actually spend money rather than ripping it online (we’re still going to download regardless). It’s fight night, and each contender is preparing for the all-out, no-holds-barred war that will smash the airwaves. It’s Chi-town alpha-producer-turned-rapper versus NY’s hustler and entrepreneur, both stretching out their collaborations, greasing down their lyrics and making sure their songs are up to par for the hip-hop world.

p. They both have nothing to lose and so much to gain from this star-prized night, but I wouldn’t necessarily be handing out the superior title anytime soon. “Best Rapper Alive” still belongs to the Muhammad Ali figurehead, Jay-Z, and it is difficult to say otherwise. Another title might suit these two ego-tripping lyricists, such as “The Rappers Best-Known for Throwing Tantrums” or something else more appropriate. But enough low-blows — let’s get to the significant part of the battle: the music.

p. Kanye’s third album, “Graduation,” is a true illustration of what it means to be a musical genius, production-wise. He still obsesses over Louis Vuitton (which I find very odd for a grown man) and flashes childish, over-sized teddy bear sunglasses; but when he finds time to stop whimpering about losing awards, he can instantly create utopian sounds which pulsate the dance floor and the streets. With this album, he uncovers his secret weapon to crush opponents through samplings of Michael Jackson, Steely Dan, Daft Punk and other eclectic musicians.

p. In contrast to his previous albums, “College Dropout” and “Late Registration,” one can see the progression in his lyrics, form and technique. The skits are gone (he’s no longer broke-phi-broke), and he cuts his number of collaborations in half. Everything is more polished on this new album — just as he wants it.

p. With the release of his first single, “Can’t Tell Me Nothing,” Kanye has challenged anyone who tries to steal his shine with blunt jabs and overzealous assertions, such as “I’m in between but way more fresher.” With the haunting voice of Connie Mitchell (lead singer of Sneaky Sound System) and Young Jeezy’s rumbling laugh reverberating throughout the record, Kanye dares anyone to say one word of opposition toward him, as he is ready to attack and devour his distraught naysayers.

p. His second released track, “Stronger,” is purely a club-banger, borrowing from Daft Punk’s “Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger,” and challenging Timbaland’s “Way I Are.” Kanye amps and layers bass-heavy beats on top of Daft Punk’s mechanistic, robotic sound, infusing electronica/house with hip-hop.

p. The small number of collaborations he adds to the album, are hit-or-miss. Kanye and T-Pain’s (correction: Teddy Penderazdoun) song, “The Good Life,” is definitely a hit. In another sampling track, this time taking a slice of Michael’s Jackson’s “P.Y.T. (Pretty Young Thing),” Kanye and T-Pain sing it up about living like George and Weezie with fast cars and fast women and even give a nod to 50 Cent while popping some champagne bottles.

p. However, on the slow-churning track, “Drunk and Hot Girls,” Mos Def and Kanye self-destruct with this laughable, idiotic mess of poking fun at intoxicated women who are ready to be taken advantage of. As Kanye babbles about real-life experiences, the sluggish, chopped-up, skewed track teems with high-stringed violins and Mos Def’s missed notes and muffled, almost inaudible sounds.

p. The rest of “Graduation” ranges in its subject matter from nostalgic testaments to Chicago to self-righteous boasts that parade through well-crafted, addictive productions. Ultimately, Kanye demonstrates progression as a producer and lyricist who is still stuck on childhood fantasies, but who has certainly graduated from the class of learning to one of teaching.

p. 50 Cent, on the other hand, stagnates on his self-titled album, “Curtis.” Looking at his album cover, weeks of stress seem to be packed on his discouraged face; there’s a lack of confidence in his swagger and his hands are on his head in confusion, as if asking God, “Why did I make another depressing album?” Maybe some Vitamin Water would revitalize him.

p. 50 Cent has always been a confrontational competitor, ready and willing to shoot off his nine and ask questions later. He’s like Kanye — self-righteous lyconceited, but in a way that is meant to scare his enemies and leave them running to buy some Teflon, too. He’s a successful businessman, building the G-Unit empire (whatever’s left of it), creating a fashion line, making an autobiographical film and having Dr. Dre and Eminem as sidekicks. He is charismatic with an angry streak, a teddy bear with a bipolar disorder (watch out, Kanye). He pleases the ladies with his previous songs, such as “Magic Stick” and “21 Questions,” but lacks the flair of LL Cool J.

p. “Curtis” is just another rendition of his past albums. He still talks about dollar signs, his gun is still unloading bullets and he still finds time for his baby mama. But the problem is not repetition, it’s lack of creativity and depth. His first single, “Straight to the Bank,” is a disappointment, as he raps about excessive stacks of paper, while Tony Yayo laughs so heartily it sounds more like hiccups. The record’s first track, “My Gun Go Off,” is merely an interjection for Cent’s enemies, with barrel-loading, gunshot sounds lurking under scratching guitar licks, as the song builds into ’50s-style climactic rage in the chorus: “You see the barrel turnin’ / You feel the hollows burnin’ / N— now you learnin’ / N—, my gun go off.”

p. I do give him points for branching out and working with other producers (DJ Khalil, Havoc), but the majority of his songs sound like Scott Storch remakes with the same piano riffs. His musical guests save the album, with the likes of the producer/singer duo, Timbaland and Justin Timberlake in “Ayo Technology.”

p. Timberlake, who is one step away from flashing a pimp cup, takes over the song with the provocative chorus: “Ayo, I’m tired of using technology / Why don’t you sit down on top of me / Ayo, I’m tired of using technology / I need you right in front of me / She wants it, uh, uh, she wants it / She wants it, so, I got to give it to her.” Timbaland busts out his cyborg yaps and video-game beats to boost 50 Cent’s stamina for this striptease track. Nicole Schrezinger is also featured in a Dre-produced, ferocious and saucy track “Fire,” and the R&B twin of Justin Timberlake, Robin Thicke, slows down the album with a mellow, silky love song, “Follow My Lead.” Still, not every guest succeeds. Akon is a letdown on “Still Will Kill,” as he sounds like a constipated Young Jeezy.

p. Overall, both artists hit below the mark — more so for 50 than Kanye — but it’s to be expected in such a high-charged face-off. Musically, 50 Cent keeps chipping away at the tip of the iceberg while Kanye goes under, but not nearly deep enough to need an oxygen mask. The winner will be Kanye, hands down, but go decide for yourself.

“Lifeline,” Ben Harper’s second studio album with the Innocent Criminals, adds soul to the folk, blues and funk star’s repetoire. The album was recorded on a 16-track tape machine over a period of seven days at Studio Gang in Paris. The Innocent Criminals contributes to this album to an even greater degree than on their first collaboration with Harper, “Burn to Shine.” Coming at the end of a nine-month tour, the album creates a solid background for Harper’s vocals and sounds fluid, as if it comes from a cohesive unit and not a solo artist with his session band.

p. Recording with The Innocent Criminals on “Lifeline” brings the energy of Harper’s live performances to the new material. Most of the album is made up of tracks like “Fool for a Lonesome Train,” in which the combination of the band’s complex sound and Harper’s heartfelt lyrics create a soulful mix which proves that emotion doesn’t have to be delicate.

p. Despite the album’s focus on a soul aesthetic, it certainly integrates some of the funky sound that makes Harper so much fun. “Say You Will” stands out as an energetic, get-out-of-your-seat-and-dance track, complete with back-up singers and fun, witty lyrics: “Our chances are slim and none / And I’m afraid slim just left town.”

p. “Lifeline” also finds room, if not quite enough, for quieter, simpler songs. The instrumental “Paris Sunrise #7” is a delicately affecting slide guitar piece that would be perfectly at home beside Indian sitar music and Appalachian folk music. The track’s five minutes leave you breathlessly awaiting each subsequent note, while the soft finger-picking gives the song a soft quality. As it ends, it seamlessly transitions into the closing track, “Lifeline,” a simple and intimate song about the difficulties of love, which proves the most intimate song on the album.

p. As good as “Lifeline” is, it’s a little disappointing with the knowledge of just how good Harper can be and has been in the past. With the exception of “Paris Sunrise #7” and “Lifeline,” Harper fails to do what he does best: infuse his passion into his songs. This album lacks the fiery political statements as well as the intimate acoustic numbers that define Harpers’ best work. There is no song on this album that resembles the political statements made by “Black Rain” or the delicacy of “Morning Yearning” found on Harper’s most recent solo album, “Both Sides of The Gun.”

p. There is not a bad track on this album, but it feels like a disappointing album from a spectacular artist. This album may be a step forward for Ben Harper & The Innocent Criminals, but as a Ben Harper album, it’s only mediocre.

For those fans of more “normal” Clive Owen films, put this review down for a second — I want to address a special section of his fan base. For those of you that enjoyed him delivering a baby in the Alfonso Cuaron masterpiece “Children of Men,” start salivating now because Mr. Owen has done it again. He delivers another baby, but this time with a special twist. And don’t worry — you don’t have to wait until an hour into the movie to watch the uterine goodness; this action takes place in the first scene, setting the pace for the entire movie.

p. “Shoot ’Em Up” is a rare film for which the stunts were conceptualized before the film had even began production. However, that means even less time went into the development of the script, which may or may not be a bad thing depending on your cup of tea.

p. The story is about the carrot-chopping Mr. Smith (Owen), who claims to be a “dangerous British nanny.” He’s waiting for the bus, minding his own business, when a pregnant woman runs by him followed by a few shady characters. Naturally, Smith’s good guy tendencies take over and while his attempt to save the woman is unsuccessful, he saves her baby, and that’s where the real fun begins. Smith enlists the services of the renowned prostitute, Donna, played by Italy’s finest export, Monica Belucci (“The Passion of the Christ”). Smith is also being chased by Hertz, a professional hitman, played by a very game Paul Giamatti (“Sideways”), who is hired to gun down the baby. Mayhem, sex and blood ensue. Giamatti seems to be getting his machismo back.

p. The film is directed by not-so-new but not-so-famous Michael Davis, who is best known for directing Cinemax films. However, this work is certainly miles ahead of anything he’s done before, rightfully crediting John Woo’s 1992 Hong Kong actioner, “Hard Boiled,” as his main source.

p. The acting is fluid, to say the least. Everyone seems to be having a lot of fun in the film, which is good for the movie, but apparently bad for Owen. He’s been on the brink of superstardom, and there shouldn’t be any reason for him to be held back — but he is, and I can’t figure out why. “Shoot ’Em Up” is a prime example of Owen’s charisma and charm with which he carries the entire film. He has the one-liner-toting-badass part down. Meanwhile, Belucci is scorching as Donna, and hopefully we will get to see more of her Stateside in the future.

p. While the acting is good, the script is quite awful. The concept is simple: a man doing whatever he can to save a baby. The film starts losing steam toward the end as it tries to add a political message (why does every movie need to have one of these anyway?). Still, it doesn’t really matter; this isn’t the kind of movie you come out of scratching your head.

p. The good news is the action is top notch, and rightfully so considering all the development that went into it. The many pulse-pounding scenes include one wherein Mr. Smith and Donna get their freak on while Smith is shooting bad guys. The final aerial sequence may seem to many a little ridiculous, but honestly, anyone who takes a movie titled “Shoot ’Em Up” needs to seriously reconsider why they are watching the film in the first place.

p. ‘Shoot ’Em’ is a film that puts all its marbles in the action and never switches gears. Even fans of ultraviolence will feel jaded by the end of the movie; there are only so many ways a man can kill someone with a carrot. Call up the boys and keep the kids and women at home for this one because it sure does get messy.

Continuing their streak of hard-core touring, Stephen Kellogg and the Sixers, the Massachusetts-based quartet of self-proclaimed rock ’n’ rollers, delighted a tightly packed and energetic audience Friday night at Matoaka Amphitheater. Theirs was the first concert of the new school year in the recently renovated space, and the highly enjoyable, if not highly polished performance of the four musicians did the spiffy new surroundings justice.

p. Ironically, the year’s first show at Matoaka would be the last show for one band member. Frontman Stephen Kellogg announced early in the show that Chris Soucy, the mustachioed, trucker hat-festooned guitarist would be hanging up his Sixer mantle after the night’s show. Kellogg proceeded to explain that, in honor of the occasion, he had let Soucy compile that night’s playlist — a playlist which, coincidentally, called for the bandleader to change guitars after every song. “Well played, sir,” Kellogg remarked with a grin on his face as he changed his instrument yet again.

p. Despite the frequent changes in instrumentation, the band played a rollicking set which brought the audience out of its seats and up to the edge of the stage halfway through the show. “Now it’s a rock concert!” an obviously delighted Kellogg exclaimed. In fact, there were few things which did not seem to delight the rockers, who laughed and joked and jostled each other across the stage all the way through their two-hour set. This enthusiasm, oddly enough, was the source of the scattered, rough-hewn technical moments which pestered the band, such as when a power jump led to the entanglement and disconnection of a keytar cord. Still, the band never lost its momentum or its spirit and continued undeterred, even allowing their frontman to indulge in his frequent, seemingly out-of-nowhere tangents. These included a particularly amusing anecdote about a boyhood trip to Colonial Williamsburg “to see the pilgrims.”

p. But ultimately, the night belonged to Soucy, and when the time came for the Sixers’ traditional lap around the stadium at the end of the show, Kellogg offered to let the guitarist do the honors, on the condition that he do so shirtless. Soucy was quick to oblige, prompting Kellogg to joke, “Okay, now the pants.” Soucy, again, was quick to oblige. After a speedy circle around the pristine rows of grass that provide the new amphitheater’s upper seating — clad only in boxer-briefs and socks — Soucy returned to the stage to play the rest of what is arguably the band’s biggest hit to date, “Thirteen.” The song, like most songs dedicated to 13-year-old girls and French kissing, is inherently blissful and innocent. It marked a fitting end to the band’s good-natured, good-hearted and thoroughly adorable set.

p. The audience was quick to call the band back onto the stage, and the quartet readily obliged. An obviously moved and overjoyed Kellogg thanked the crowd for the encore before launching into one more original song, followed by a superlative cover of the Billy Joel classic “Piano Man,” dedicated to a once again fully clothed Soucy. The guitarist was even given a portion of the song all to himself, before being rejoined by his band mates for a reprise of the enthusiastic comradery which had been the theme of the show. Music aside, it was this sense of jovial brotherhood and the accompanying ear-to-ear grins that ultimately carried the show. Nothing makes a concert better than a band in which every guy on stage is truly enjoying himself.