Spoon's 1998 album, A Series of Sneaks, was a near-perfect blend of elementary rock, sharp lyrics, and hooky melodies. On the band's just-released follow-up album, Girls Can Tell, the group manages to build upon the greatness of its previous effort.

Dolly Parton has at last returned to her musical home and, boy, are the neighbors ever grateful. That "home," of course, is Kentucky bluegrass music and the melancholy acoustic strains of the Appalachian Mountains.

The essential internationalism that characterizes this global showcase of a disc is mind-blowing in both scope and quality.

A 72-minute haul into a cold, stirring, private space where the post-punk isolation of Joy Division is redefined and softened with mesmerizing doses of melody and romantic longing.

After fifteen years of continually blossoming brilliance, the Flaming Lips can count themselves among the most essential American bands in rock history.

Injecting the best aspects of Americana to Bragg's inherently British approach makes this one of the early contenders for folk-rock album of the year.

Mogwai has moved past relying on Slint-like soft/loud dynamics to get attention. Now it garners attention for the detail of its songwriting, the majority of which can now be heard without turning the volume to 11, only to receive a rude awakening at the crescendo.

With Vespertine, Bjork has constructed a whispering wall of wonders, and instead of forcing everyone out, has invited the world to look through the cracks.

Her sharpest offering yet, and one of the better live albums in recent memory.

Although it may appear frantic, Play is an eclectic and coherent work where Moby accesses an array of sounds from his milieu of influences.

The album has no filler, no played-out skits or weak collaborations. Instead, Crown Royal exhibits the energy, grooves, and phatness of a future hip-hop classic.

Both sober and celebratory, The Rising makes a strong case for the transcending power of rock and roll.

Although they were written as early as 1996 and recorded in 1997-98, the songs on Old Ramon (like most Red House Painters material) have a timeless, dreamy quality to them that prevent them from sounding stale. An album this beautiful can never come too late.

An album that's as complex and mature as De La Soul has ever done, but also smooth, polished, and downright soulful enough to capture a whole new audience for these enduring hip-hop legends.

Boy George's Essential Mix certainly is unsettling, but only because of its sheer, unexpected brilliance -- which perhaps should not be so surprising, considering George is now a veteran performer on the decks.

Formula or not, with Invincible, Jackson reclaims his pop crown and wears it well.

The merely wonderful arrangements pale next to the songs themselves.

Rarely does a relative unknown come across with an album as fiercely confident and fully formed as this.

The group's most gorgeously crafted album ever.

Throughout, the music (produced almost exclusively by the group and its DJ) shines with the glint of successful experimentation. However, it never outshines the words, which is where the group has as much to offer, if not more so.

Dirty might not have been worth the nine-year wait, but it's one of the finest and most colorful dance-oriented discs of the year.

O Brother, Where Art Thou?, features some of the finest bluegrass and old-school twang to be assembled in one place in recent memory. Put together by a team that includes production maestro T-Bone Burnett and singer Gillian Welch, O Brother is carefully -- almost encyclopedically -- compiled, with an emphasis on the sort of gospel-like, acoustic-and-harmony-reliant country once popularized by the Carter Family and other such groups.

Thievery Corporation sets a new standard in the downbeat discography.

Throughout Standards, Tortoise takes the listener on mini-journeys into sound that alternately shimmer, contort, seduce, and confound...

Certainly his most personal record, arguably his best.

Low has crafted a recording that exceeds its own high standards of creativity, harmony, and subtlety.

The aptly titled Stories from the City, Stories from the Sea plays like an almanac of her adventures of the past few years, and reflects a newfound sense of self. Her songs once again reek of sexuality -- sometimes frustrated, sometimes satisfied -- resulting in alternating episodes of blistering, trashy, gutter guitar rock, and keyboard ballads of sheer melodic grace. She also reveals a greater command of her vocal abilities (with all the shrieks now in just the right places), and inspired new lyrical dashes.

As a pop record, Stripped is practically flawless.