Favourite Colours is lovely and adventurous stuff that proves the Sadies are only getting better with each trip into the studio.

A stunning debut and one of the best records of 2002.

Children Running Through is Patty Griffin's masterpiece thus far.

It's no turning point in a field populated by dozens of elder space cadets and mood architects, from Massive Attack to Spacek to Sa-Ra. As a flawed first step from a young newcomer, however, it's impressive.

Random Access Memories is also Daft Punk's most personal work, and richly rewarding for listeners willing to spend time with it.

Like faith, these songs require patience, as their almost mantra-like arcs take their time to fully form.

Kala nearly makes "Arular" seem tame in comparison, magnifying most of its predecessor's qualities as it remains bracingly adventurous.

Ultimately, if there's any disappointment to be had with this near-perfect album, it's that it still towers above subsequent efforts as the unequivocal climax of Rage Against the Machine's vision. As such, it remains absolutely essential.

All the pieces here slot together beautifully, and using more voices creates more complex layers of vocals that only add to the pieces.

In sum, Spirit Moves is a welcome departure for Douglas, who has been working with his longtime electric band and more recently with his great Keystone group.

Phantom Power is a very good album (and, again, compared to many of SFA's peers in 2003, it is far ahead of the pack), but it does lack some of the things that made earlier Super Furry Animals so exhilarating -- the grit, the wild abandon, the absurdity, and the sheer unpredictability, where it was impossible to tell what would happen next.

The benefit of a comp is that it's totally possible, even welcome, to downplay dull lapses like Around the Sun--and, when combined with well-chosen highlights from the band's powerful first two acts, adds up to a thorough narrative of R.E.M.'s entire career.

It's an album that reveals its charms through repeat listens, and makes a listener wonder how the band can master so many different musical styles via so many vocalists while still maintaining a fiercely cohesive sound.

Those who missed these gems the first time around would be hard-pressed to find another dance disc in 2006 that rivals the level of quality found here.

As conceptually and contextually bold as Let England Shake is, it features some of Harvey's softest-sounding music.

Compared to the first LCD Soundsystem album, Sound of Silver is less silly, funnier, less messy, sleeker, less rowdy, more fun, less distanced, more touching.

Overall, though, Body Talk is more focused than Robyn, and just as bold in the intimacy it creates with listeners.

A set of electronica that's nearly as challenging as Autechre's relentlessly academic beat manipulation but just as funky and instantly gratifying as a Fatboy Slim flag-waver.

Welch and Rawlings are at the top of their form and continue to make the best Americana recordings without resorting to drenching their albums in guest stars, but by writing and performing heartfelt songs that speak with a clear and undeniable honesty.

Several of the songs here are top-tier extrovert post-punk, neatly organized threshings as invigorating as any material from Mission of Burma or their farther-flung counterparts.

She tosses jazz, folk, R&B, hip-hop and whatever else strikes her fancy into fascinating collisions that are as melodic as they are abrasive, and as globally minded as they are distinctly urban.

More immediately accessible and warm than "Cuckooland," more ambitious than "Shleep," Comicopera, in three acts, is the end result of Robert Wyatt looking around and examining the craziness and wild unpredictability in real life in 2007.

Mirrored is unlike any recording out there at the moment. It's loud, funny, and astonishingly sophisticated, and doesn't feel pretentious in the least.

While any new album from Shorter is an event at this juncture, Without a Net is special even among the recordings made by this outstanding group.

Perhaps if he were a more skilled producer and arranger, things would have been better. Unfortunately, his style comes off more like sub-Enya with a beard than a true studio wizard.

The blood doesn't really get pumping until the fifth track. Up to that point, however, the band creates some of its most downcast and alluring material, covering solitude, self-destruction, and just about every planetary ill.

Simple, subtle, and quite beautiful, the 37-minute album rewards during deep concentration and as use for background.

His aggressive but nimble flow is all over each of these songs.