how we're all just "Dust in the Wind" and Styx exploring the isolation of a "Renegade" or "Blue Collar Man," a role Pearl Jam has taken over for the '90s.

Styx, in their time, were unstoppable; the only group that has since matched their propensity for epic arrangements, majestic balladry and guitar wank is another Chicago band, Smashing Pumpkins. So at first it seems strange that Styx lead singer Dennis DeYoung would dive headfirst into schmaltz with a solo album devoted solely to Broadway musical numbers. (DeYoung got the idea after playing Pontius Pilate in a production of Jesus Christ Superstar.) Moving from Gershwin chestnuts to blockbuster pap from Chess, DeYoung is game but a little overextended, phrasing awkwardly in "Someone to Watch Over Me" and overemoting on "Once Upon a Dream."

Still, he turns the Cats hit "Memory" into a perfectly adequate adult-contemporary slow jam, and his reworking of My Fair Lady's "On the Street Where You Live" as a cappella doo-wop is perversely intriguing. With this album, DeYoung has graduated from rock into a sort of woozy, high-class Muzak. But considering Styx's flair for theatrical rock opera – Paradise Theater, anyone? – 10 on Broadway comes off as an oddly honest career move for this aging pomp rocker.

With Kansas, Kansas' retrospective box set, the accompanying booklet is often more entertaining than the music. There are really great quotes about playing biker bars that "had puke-eating contests and [that would] put a rat in a pitcher of bear and pour rounds for everybody." Also, period photos depict precisely what was uncool about the '70s – handlebar mustaches, bad sunglasses, shirts made of decidedly unnatural materials. The music, especially on the first disc of early nonhits, isn't much better; the songs exude the decade's worst musical innovations – epic drum solos, endless Keith Emerson-style keyboard runs and ponderous violin filigree.

Disc 2 perks up with the driving hits "Point of Know Return" and "Carry On Wayward Son," yet these only demonstrate Kansas' thin contribution to pop culture. At their peak, Kansas managed to compact progressive rock's worst excesses into AM-radio friendly Top 40 singles, a dubious distinction at best. (RS 696)

MATT DIEHL