The Else, another collection that ranks with any in their memorable discography.

Just a Little Lovin' achieves the unlikely: a tribute to an immortal artist which both glorifies its subject and elevates the worshipper kneeling at her altar.

It's a consistently intelligent and daring record, yet remains enormously listenable.

This album blows the doors off its predecessor. Save a pair of disinfected ballads ("The Last Fight," "Gravedancer"), Libertad is all about hand-grenade chords, drag-racing riffs, and circus-tent choruses.

For elder listeners Fear probably won't serve as the powerful statement it wants to be--its themes have been explored to more exacting impact before and, musically, it's fairly standard progressive fare--but it is a strong and intelligent album and for a generation that's grown numb from three-minute ditties about life at the end of the country club cul-de-sac that embrace rather than rage against the dying of the light, it may serve as a wake up call and provide hope for a brighter and more color-infused tomorrow.

As far as standard Celine fare goes, in fact, Chances is likely her strongest non-French outing since 2002's "A New Day Has Come;" nobody unfolds a lyric with more care or nuance.

Stirrat and Sansone revisit the immaculate production of their previous work, but with greater cohesion and broader instrumentation.

Unglamorous clearly shows that the 36-year-old has graduated.

The first studio release by the Sadies in three years represents a big sonic advance.

Amiina enchant like a peek inside an elven gathering under the roots of Yggdrasil.

Add 3121 to the mounting pile of evidence: Prince is the black Beck.

An album that's smart at every level.

The results are richly satisfying throughout.

Brave may not be the most groundbreaking record ever to climb the pop charts, but it's enough to convince you JLo's discs don't stint on substance.

If the lyrics generally lack the literary precision of Zevon’s best work, the songs take on greater weight given the circumstance under which they were recorded.

Lead single 'Rainin in Paradize' alone should propel Chao (née Oscar Tramor) into the kind of stateside fame he's long enjoyed in Europe and South America.

While the raw, raging blues of 'Red Is the Color' ranks with Earle's most powerful music, 'Satellite Radio' could well be the slightest (as well as perhaps a plug for Earle's own radio show), but the artist's willingness to take chances attests to a restless creativity that refuses to be corralled.

It's pretty dour stuff on the whole, but delivered with playfully melodic wit and a certain poetic resignation usually found only in the hearts of forgotten souls and madmen (and maybe Tom Waits).

A truly remarkable progression, and a great album to boot--Antenna is the work of a band that's constantly moving forward.

These 50 minutes of music are as cohesive as they are conquering.

The entire album is seamless and offers new facets with each listen.

Her sing-songy tunes are honest and earthy, her diction intense and mannered but never pretentious.

When standards are done like this, there's just nothing like 'em.

By and large this is a delightful power-pop excursion.

Another accomplished collection that adds richer arrangements and instrumentation to Cary's mix of rock, folk, and country tunes.

In time-warp fashion, the band plays as distinctively and playfully as ever.

The black-clad New York quartet still sounds inflexibly menacing, grasping tighter than ever to its doomy post-punk influences and delving further into frontman Paul Banks's emotional unrest.

An arrestingly epic and assured debut. [Amazon UK review]