Where the debut sometimes resembled a psycho-ward jam session, System serve up some surprising melodies on "Chop Suey!" "Forest" and the haunting "Aerials."

The anthemic cries for getting your crap in order are flavored with dashes of sonic experimentation and the knowledge of when to slow things down.

Retro rawk doesn't come much ballsier than this--or get much better.

Over the years, it might not stand up to classics such as Nebraska or The River, but the The Rising gives us something more important right now: a reason to believe.

Veni Vidi Vicious literally explodes with frenetic guitar jangle and audacious hooks.

With Phrenology, the cool Philly troupe remain head and shoulders above the rest by sticking to their well-defined course of smoky live beats, serious lyrics, stunning guests... and not one ounce of production from the Neptunes.

The official return of the DMB shows them in full force and stretching way Up.

Cookie drips with R&B, hip-hop, Latin grooves, experimental jazz, blues and techno tidbits for yummy multilayered goodness.

[An] elegant mix of jazz, electronica and lush gospel choruses.

Her most far-out R&B work to date.

Combines Beach Boys harmonies, Pink Floyd-influenced orchestral rock and the lonely-heart vocal style of such '70s icons as Big Star and Neil Young.

The opening song, "First Wave Intact," is nine minutes of churning Led Zeppelin-size rock. And it gets stranger from there.

Here, Grohl consistently puts forth straightforward, stripped-down rock that is neither ironic nor pandering--a fine line between Cheap Trick and cheap tricks.

It's as gripping as N.W.A.'s groundbreaking Straight Outta Compton.

Simply striking.

You'll be left wondering why other bands aren't so daring.

[Stereo] is brimming with expressive, beautifully articulated songs that speak to both sides of his personality.

Sing-along melodies and breezy hooks are strewn throughout.

Diverse and constantly engaging.

It's a rootsy, honest album in the simple tradition of Hank Williams and Jimmie Rodgers.

It's the album you wish the Strokes would've made.

The audio equivalent of a warm bubble bath.

It'll charm the chaps off both diehards and the folks who've discovered these backwoods sounds because of the O Brother, Where Art Thou? soundtrack.

A sprawling, varied disc that's as laid-back as a cool summer afternoon.

It's a massive success.

Evokes Jamiroquai, Steely Dan and Curtis Mayfield--all at the same time.

If you haven't already pledged your allegiance to Radiohead, this isn't gonna turn you.

Keep an ear open for this solid effort's best moments: the soulful "Full Frontal Fridays" and jubilant "I Get Cravings."

Costello's most exciting album in ages.

Holland gracefully achieves the spookiness and timelessness artists like Tori Amos and Cat Power have been chasing for years.

Let's hope we don't have to wait until 2040 for something else this good.

The group cuts through style in pursuit of substance, using Fever to Tell's slow-burning hit "Maps" as a jump-off point.

Imagine a dance floor where Steve Reich raves, Talking Heads reunite and disco divas shake their booty with pierced punks.

In the tradition of Johnny Cash, Waylon Jennings, Woody Guthrie and even Bruce Springsteen, Earle has a knack for hard-nosed poetry.

Pawn Shoppe Heart is all sensational glam riffs and massive shout-along choruses.

It's killer stuff for any frame of mind.

Astronaut takes a few songs to warm up, but by the time the band hits naughty dance-floor fillers like "Bedroom Toys" and "Taste the Summer," it feels like 1983 all over again.

These are just good tunes, no matter what the window dressing is.

Another cool chill-out album.

Simply great.

Think of it as more of a mix tape because the British quintet's jam-band explorations dip into everything from Beatles-esque pop and Delta-blues-influenced ballads.

With dashes of Nick Cave darkness, surf-guitar twang, ugly '60s pop and Velvet Underground-y noise, the Raveonettes offer more variations on the dense tuned-down sound that's overtaking America.

The joyful "I Love the '80s"-style disc fans have been yearning for since she took up yoga.

The Killers sound like a delicious puree of Blur, Pulp and the Cure, loading Hot Fuss with stylish synth-pop effects and big blazing choruses.

[It] shows things are as loony as ever in Busta's camp.

Futures goes back to the band's roots, sporting 11 sparkling gems that carefully balance balladry with bombast.

A well-crafted mix of hardcore bluster, determined melody and anthemic grandness that boasts depth and texture rarely heard from the Warped Tour ilk.

Frontman James Walsh channels Jeff Buckley's soaring vocals so perfectly over those lovely acoustic guitars and pianos that you won't be surprised when you hear the band's named after a Tim Buckley album.

The Back Room is a fine album that proves you can look backward while paving the way forward.

This body of work will be a wonderland of hits in time.

Confirming everything that is great about Tom Rowlands and Ed Simons, Come with Us is equal measures driving rhythms and euphoric, widescreen melodies.

Bluesy, fragile and gorgeous.

A winning combo of thick club cuts, hands-in-the-air call-outs, pop ingenuity and a perfect balance of entertainment and realism in his rhymes.

Fans of the Icelandic wonder's more orchestral tunes might think there's something missing here. Well, unless they're too busy being totally blown away.

She might be unplugged--but she's still electrifying.

Z seems like just the beginning of a whole new phase.

The electric mood of Adams' sophomore disc definitely reflects his good fortunes and knack for solid songcraft.

The best tracks--"Crystal" and "Turn My Way"--sound like they were recorded in 1987.

Their whisper-thin, doo-wop harmonies, fuzzy guitars and barely-there percussion make the Strokes seem like Led Zeppelin. But that's not a bad thing.

Granted, Step doesn't have anything as effortlessly flawless as the classic single "Judith" from the band's last album, but it does have a number of songs ("Blue," "The Outsider") that are almost as bombastically beautiful.

More in line with his tighter debut, Pretty Hate Machine, With Teeth is made up of bursts of dark, scary and paranoid gut punches.

Rather than coming across as an unfriendly piece of self-indulgence--which may or may not have been the intention--her latest CD is quietly captivating.

While the trippy Scottish foursome's third disc may make a few nods to reality when it incorporates boring things like, you know, choruses and verses, songs like "Assessment" and "Liquid Bird"--all electronic gurgles and off-the-wall vocals--still wave the freak flag.

Amazingly solid.

The group sounds as wonderfully debauched, degenerate and dejected as ever.

Even if the divorcée flirts with being Sheryl Crow-y bland now, she can still let whip-smart lyrics flow with her potty mouth.

The results, much like last year's debut, Soul Sessions, are spine-tinglingly great--even if there is the slightest bit of bland Celine Dion balladry seeping in at the edge.

The end result is creative, inspired and, most important, individual.

The best he has sounded in years.

While St. Anger doesn't go back to the speedy, epic-crafting days of yesteryear, it's all balls: bad-ass rock and blistering, visceral lyrics.

Elvis Costello is back, bashing and clanging away at what he does best: delivering out vitriolic songs of curdled romance and sodden, soiled dreams.

The singer doesn't disappoint here, wringing out every strand of emotion in songs such as "Mississippi Girl," a strong return to her country roots.

Fans and Luddites will find much to treasure when dropping this platter on the Victrola.

But whether they're being snotty or serious, there is a constant thread at work: those catchy melodies.

With Musicology, the doctor of sexual funk puts the self-indulgence on hold and digs back into the enticing grooves and towering melodies of his glory years.

Interesting variations on classic pop music, delivered with fire and wisdom.

What sets Silent Alarm apart, however, is the presence of singer Kele Okereke, who has a dazzlingly elastic voice like the Cure's Robert Smith.

One man has made a beautifully subtle magic in his bedroom studio--and it will be heard on The O.C. in no time.

A darkly shimmering, intensely brooding and exquisitely melancholy trip.

Provides a mind-blowing nostalgic trip for those who grew up with these songs.

Happenstance is lush and brooding, the kind of record that makes most sense coming through the headphones late at night.

The originals are still the best, but this is pretty fly for a white guy.

Sounds like they had as much fun making it as you're going to have listening to it.

Hummingbird does not disappoint fans who like their R&B buzzing with a side of multitempo hip-hop.

The disc is all over the map, moving from booming dance cuts to gangsta fare, but it satisfies with crunk-tacular gems like "What You Know."

Instead of making any stupid concessions to her sudden celebrity... the Home girl plays it cool, carrying on with the same smooth vibes that made her a star.

Perfect pop fun for short attention spans.

Often funeral-march slow, but there are also flashes of passionate energy.

Whether the songs get a grimy edge or sweet touch, the textured album leaves Shadows as a bright spot in the singer-songwriter genre.

The simpler style allows the tense commentary to come through loud and clear, as the band keeps up.

The sturdy jams--decorated with Moog, powerful guitars and frontman Jakob Dylan's sexy purr--pour out of the stereo and stick in your head.

Singer Jon Bunch's vocals remain powerful and dynamic, while the songs ditch most of the weighty orchestration that slowed down previous efforts.

Per usual, the content is clouded in misery--the kind of soft, sad and touching tracks that'll have Dido fans rediscovering this Greenwich Village adult-alternative pioneer

Merchant has achieved a lovely balance of art and craft.

For a bunch of jokesters, these guys deliver some seriously good music.

Along the way, it scores a lot of points, thanks to Nigel Godrich's earthy but twisted production.

Has a few more production touches than his past crackling work.

The Nashville hottie shakes off some of her past cobwebs for slicker, bawdier rock and a collection of power ballads--most destined for a high school prom slow dance near you.