Lauryn Hill

Alluringly unplugged: a guitar and Hill in song and conversation. Starts with a throaty laugh and builds to tears as she breaks open her soul in jams like "Mr. Intentional." Revel in rich acoustic guitar, poetry-slam lyrics, and intimate melodies that she admits are not fully developed (she even gets lost once). Play it through, let your soul wander, repeat as necessary.

Probably not the worst album ever released by an artist of substance--there are all those Elvis soundtracks. But in the running. Full-length double-CD of wordy strophic strolls that often last six, seven, eight minutes, accompanied solely by a solo guitar Hill can barely strum (the first finger-picked figure occurs on track 10, where it repeats dozens upon dozens of times, arghh). Unlike Hill herself, who during one of many spoken-word breaks tells the adoring multitude that her singing voice has been roughed up by a late night (but not how weak it is when she gets her eight hours), the melodies do not assert themselves. Inspirational Patter: "Every single one of these songs is about me first." Makes them realer, aight? (Grade - D-)