It's a happy, bright trance, not necessarily to be avoided. C'mon. Dive in.

Despite how often he churns out work, this is steadfast and cohesive.

It feels like a declaration of purpose instead, made all the stronger for having passed through the crucible of Bachmann's doubts, through the armor breaks, and straight into-and from-the heart.

Eitzel and Butler work so well together one hopes that this collaboration doesn’t end with the remarkable Hey Mr [sic] Ferryman.

The album’s arrangements and standout musicianship--including pedal-steel and slide guitarist Greg Leisz and Henry’s son Levon on clarinet--is a reminder that Henry’s extraordinary production work is second to none.

Methinks come the end of the year, a lot of people will have adjudged it a keeper.

It is not one thing (folk) or the other (post-rock, post-classical experiment) or even, really a blend of the two, but rather something fresh and idiosyncratic and worth exploring.

These eight songs are indeed everything you'd expect from this reconfigured version of Comets on Fire with Chasny at the controls. It's a purely transcendental synthesis of heavy folk meditation and interstellar overdrive.

[Swing Lo Magellan] is instantly likeable. It makes perfect sense, but unravels into nonsense and complexity on second glance.

At any rate, Behind the Parade lobs another handful of Keene klassiks into the katalogue.

Locrian proves itself expert in simultaneously exploiting the warm blanket of beauty and the cold ice water of noise.

An exceptionally strong debut record, Soul Power will make you believe in the title concept.

Eleventh Dream Day acknowledges its past and could fit in comfortably with the big dogs.

Golden Sings both celebrates and transcends ordinary existence, finding revelation in small, perfect turns of song.

I like the tumult and ferocity of the album’s first half, though I’m not sure the world needs another “Everybody do the [insert dance move here]” song or anything else entitled “Rock and Roll Baby,” ever again.

From start to finish, God’s Problem Child is a quintessential Willie Nelson record and there are few things in the world better than that.

Wainwright has a true gift for turning heartbreak into brilliant folk rock.

Like most prolific artists, Willie can be hit or miss with his offerings. This latest one lands the target dead on.

Biophilia is a delicate and highly tactile treat, a unique gem of innovation (pipe organs driven by computers, the mallet-tickled gameleste) and gentle real soul whose breathy endearing heights Bjork hasn't touched in a minute.

Bettie Serveert have always trafficked beautifully in lovely melancholy, and this melodic, varied and rocking collection joins a long list of fine records from the Dutch band.

Nobody has ever really sounded like Chrome but Chrome, and that makes Feel It Like a Scientist sound as fresh now as it did back in the bad old days.

Mick Harvey deserves every accolade that will certainly be festooned upon this album for not only showing us Gainsbourg’s brilliance but his own as well.

Small Town is a master class in chemistry, creativity and the joy of making music for no other sake.

It is great to hear them testing out other feels without losing an ounce of the consistency that has made them to toast of Chicago for all these years.

For those of you not so enamoured of the lo-fi, early ‘90s garage/punk crud the Memphis trio so brazenly and brilliantly pioneered, feel free to plug in your own “1” or “0” stars.

Some of the names here will already be known by fans, including White, Charles, Gentry, Dale Hawkins, Link Wray and Larry Jon Wilson; while others, such as Dennis The Fox, Gritz, Cherokee, Jim Ford and John Randolph Marr, may only be familiar to collectors. It's all great, though.

Father, Son, Holy Ghost contains some of the deftest songwriting of 2011, and is more than a worthy successor to the group's debut.

With The Westerner, Doe’s reached another milestone, a rugged, reliable individual who reflects the sturdy independence that characterizes the west at its best.