People, this has no right to be this good. In many ways, it’s what you expect from the return of David Lee Roth: goofy come-ons, yowls and whoops atop a pile of greasy riffs and crazy displays of prowess from the often-imitated-never-duplicated Eddie Van Halen. Several of these songs, in fact, contain music that was written even before the band’s 1978 debut. Somehow, though, Roth’s schtick is more endearing now, rather than as creepy as some might’ve feared. He’s now the crazy uncle who might look at you a little uncomfortably once in a while but always brings the party, so that without him the room feels dead (no matter who might otherwise bring the tequila).

On repeat listens, the most intriguing element of A Different Kind Of Truth is how dominant the rhythm section is. Alex Van Halen has long impressed his peers with the versatility of his drumming, able to play most any feel convincingly in a hard rock context. Now, with John Shanks producing, he finally has a weighty drum sound that suits his importance to the band. And most revelatory of all is Wolfgang Van Halen, making his album debut on bass. Wolfie is a speedy and skillful player, and this has led to a very different role for the bass in this version of Van Halen. Founding bassist Michael Anthony was of the school that locks directly in with the bass drum at all times, which created a huge amount of sonic space for Eddie to roam. By contrast, Wolfgang almost always doubles the slippery guitar riffs, making for a much thicker sonic brew. And while Anthony’s backing vocal presence is missed, the rest of the guys do their best to fill that void. The cover photo of an oncoming train is perfectly apt to illustrate the change in the sound.

So of course A Different Kind Of Truth isn’t going to replace the classic albums up to 1984; that’s not its job. They’ve updated themselves and proven that the reunion is more than just a cash-in. And, they’re way more fun than Chickenfoot. Mission accomplished.

Comparing anyone to J Dilla seems both lazy and unfair. The respected hip-hop producer became legendary in the saddest possible way, dying from complications of lupus just days after the release of his breakthrough statement of purpose, Donuts, and his acolytes are many. Mux Mool acknowledges the influence, and he continues the combination of chill attitude and surprising beats.

Two of the biggest country releases of the decade (let alone year) came out on February 7th, 1995, representing opposite poles of modern country. Alison Krauss, with and without Union Station, brought her considerable talent on fiddle together with her affecting and subtle vocals to bluegrass-informed country that earned her crossover respect. Meanwhile, Shania Twain was found by Def Leppard producer Robert John “Mutt” Lange and hit upon the formula that broke her through to a large audience and would eventually lead to the highest selling album by a female artist in history (20 million and counting in the U.S.), 1997′s Come On Over. The merely-12-million-selling The Woman In Me includes “Any Man Of Mine” and “Whose Boots Have Your Bed Been Under?” and took the Grammy for “Best Country Album,” while Krauss won the “Best Female Country Vocal Performance” Grammy for “Baby, Now That I’ve Found You”.