Love and Theft is a strange trip through Dylan's personal relationship with the blues, whether it's the silly story-song "Tweedle Dee & Tweedle Dum," the mandolin lament "Mississippi," or the solid blues-rock of "Lonesome Days Blues" and "Summer Days."

A lush cruise through the Caribbean's romantic songwriting traditions with some additional stops in South America.

Waits' voice has always been an acquired taste, but those on the bus will appreciate the way he throws himself into every track as if haunting the characters like some sort of lunatic guardian narrator.

What dignifies her from the pack is her ability to blend accessible and likeable arrangements with messages that are simultaneously straightforward and enigmatic, jovial and pained.

The merely wonderful arrangements pale next to the songs themselves.

Wicked Grin is a rousingly successful experiment. The album's best moments equal -- and often surpass -- anything in both artists' consistently creative careers.

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.

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.

13 tracks of the kind of confident, effortless wordplay that made him a household name in the first place.

Remedy is not only the best dance record of the year, but maybe one of the best ever.

Unlike the band's earlier material, which echoed with thunderous volume, Leaves Turn Inside You is textural and sedate, combining the hazy urgency of Sonic Youth's Daydream Nation with the creativity of Yo La Tengo and the ethereality of Slowdive.

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

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.

Like so many great fuzzy rock albums, from the Rolling Stones' Exile on Main Street to R.E.M.'s Murmur, it takes a few listens to seep into your bloodstream.

A record that's certain to be name-checked by pop savants 20 years from now.

Sometimes beautiful, sometimes disquieting, Time (The Revelator) is something short of revelatory, but it's entrancing nonetheless.

Fixed Context is a prime example of mutable sound, which is to say, songs that are less about structure than direction.

Transcendental Blues measures up to the tough artistic standards Earle has set for himself since 1986's Guitar Town.

Though nothing new -- instrument-wise -- is added to the mix of drums, guitar, and piano, the White Stripes' recipe cooks up heavier overall on White Blood Cells, while still retaining some of the cheeky, barroom brashness that has become their stock in trade.

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.

All Hands on the Bad One may not be as spiritually cohesive or accomplished as the band's classic 1997 outing, Dig Me Out, but none of that matters when you turn it up and play it loud.

As savvy and sophisticated as the movie itself.

A feast of post-punk and seminal house.

May be the Coup's tightest album yet.

Okay, call it a comeback, because it ought to raise Burke's profile higher than it's been in decades.

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.

His rhymes often approach the immediacy of raw, street-level reportage, like CNN with a better soundtrack.

This is the stuff of pure comic genius.