Testing the limits of what people might want to hear at first, Fisk arguably re-educates us on what music is, and where it comes from, finding rhythm and melody in what many now call Intelligent Dance Music.

God Bless The Blake Babies is more refined, more textured, and more produced than anything from the band's heyday.

This is more of simply Hersh and an acoustic guitar than her last effort (1999's Sky Motel), but that just gives the appearance of other instruments greater effect. The emotional weight of her often unorthodox sentiments comes from subtle mastery of dynamics.

The result of all this glorious epiphany is a record that remains on par with the last few DMB albums, filled with laid back grooves that beg for volume.

A collection of near perfect (and brief, yes!) lo-fi pop tracks that openly mine the sonic groundwork laid by The Cars, Squeeze and even Led Zeppelin.

Frank Black has dug in deep for this one, and come up with an album that captures the essence of his roots while expanding the realm he's been entrenched in over the last few years.

Rainer Maria still sit solidly in the emo-core genre, yet avoid producing music that is maudlin or obvious. In fact their graceful approach to music is exactly what disguises their insightful and detailed lyrics.

This of course is the power of mountain music, the weight it gives to simple instruments and simple folk, and for all of Parton's talents, singing in this medium may very well be her best.

Restless isn't about explicitly depicting the good, bad, and ugly of street life. It's more like a hip-hop carnival, with Xzibit acting as both ringmaster and main attraction.

Even the ample cast of guests on The W seems less like a blatant attempt to boost its first week sales than simply a welcome attempt to add to its stylistic diversity. The result is something almost as rare as getting the entire Wu-Tang Clan together: a mainstream rap album that actually sounds like an album instead of a long-playing single.

Holy Wood is strictly derivative, but done with enough skill to stay entertaining. Even when the borrowing is more blatant (the guitars of "The Fight Song," for example, sound like a cross between Hole's "Plump" and Blur's "Song 2"), the album doesn't suffer noticeably.... As hard rock albums go, this one's a keeper. The problem is, Marilyn Manson aspires to something greater than that. He's plenty articulate next to the competition, and plenty adept at selling his message with powerful imagery and catch phrases. But strip away those ornaments, and what he's saying seems a bit too obvious.

Refreshing and ultimately brilliant premiere.

What is most striking about The Sophtware Slump, besides the band's resonating compositions, is its subtle approach towards invoking a strong cathartic response. It's at times a sleepy record with songs that only work as an afterthought, or only make sense when you can focus enough attention on what the band is actually saying. But it has just enough on the surface to strike an initial interest that unfolds, sometimes slowly, sometimes quickly, into the many brilliant aspects of this album and band.

As the tracks shift from smooth R&B to frantic, drum machine driven beats, Outkast prove able to pull from a big enough bag of tricks as rappers to remain unpredictable. The problem is that they come out of it all without having left any defining mark on the songs. It's almost as if Stankonia would be more memorable if the duo stuck to one sound, one rhythm, and one train of lyrical thought.

Lyrically, Haunted progresses from timid to defiant, and ultimately to triumphant. Musically, Poe drifts confidently from trippy beats and spacy sounds to straight ahead rock and mellow, melancholic numbers, though not always in such a way as to strictly parallel the dramatic flow of the album's lyrics. All that means, though, is that this is a dynamic collection of songs and not merely the kind of high-minded rock opera that quickly goes from interesting novelty to pretentious joke. Ignore everything but what comes out of the speakers, and you've got a pop treasure that is as innovative and insightful as it is immediate and unforced.

The good thing with Mascis is that, even without straying in the least from his recognizable sound, he can maintain some degree of unpredictability in his songs.

The combination of bombastic musings and ethereal compositions is not simply a grab bag of past accomplishments, or a recycling of what works, but a record that yields a wholly different result: An easy sounding album, upbeat and surprisingly positive with not much forced.

Furtado occasionally comes off sounding like a modern day Billie Holiday with her crisp, yet subtle vibrato filtering through a slick production that holds the record together. But while one can easily detect a smattering of her worldly intentions, it's the big one eyed pop monster that seems to win out in almost every instance.

In The Mode is far from an innovative lyrical masterpiece. But then, it's not supposed to be. The rapping, singing, and general noisemaking of vocalists Dynamite MC, Onallee, and guests Method Man and Rahzel serve a far more critical purpose than merely adding hollow words. Unspectacular in their own right, the vocals here are what bind together the bursts of musical thought into a fluid whole.

The modern touches in particular - set in such sharp contrast to the rawness of the more human elements - make this an artistic statement worth hearing. If it can't quite match the cathartic experience of listening to some of the early masters, it still beats the increasingly slick face much blues music has taken on in recent times.

So at 68 he's still able to churn out songs that are immediately likable, if not instantly classic. For a man who's seemingly suffered from every ailment imaginable in the past few years, his signature baritone remains as strong and expressive as ever, too.

The addition of remixed or alternative versions of favorites like "78 Stone Shuffle," "We Haven't Turned Around" and the complete Gomez rendition of "Getting Better" (featured in the first wave of the Phillips ad campaign) makes this project something for the fanatic to salivate over. As for the casual listener, ASTH could possibly leave you wondering what all the fuss is about, but at the very least gives a slight glimpse into the future and of things to come.

Yes, they tried something different, but they kept it accessible. Just as with the last album's guitar-rock-on-tranquilizers, if Kid A's mood music changes the world it will be precisely because it is mainstream, not because it is revolutionary.

If there is one drawback to this album, it is its somewhat overproduced nature. A little too clean and a little too short, Milk Cow Blues shows glimpses of what could have been, an all-star cast jamming to Willie classics and traditional blues like "The Thrill Is Gone" and "Ain't Nobody's Business."

The tight focus on craft and detail within the simple compositions and deep emotions Mojave 3 display on their third album, Excuses for Travelers, is something to take note.... Halstead's writing compares closely to Wilco, and Hank Williams on occasion...

Teddy Thompson is able to distinguish himself from the crowd on his self-titled debut. Not all the way through, mind you: he has his moments of tedium like any other. But when he has his mojo working, it's not to be missed.

This is decidedly not for those who require slick and flawless recordings. It's not particularly an album for those who demand sheer brilliance every step of the way, either. For all its sonic oddities, The Golden D doesn't always have songs that rise far beyond mere ambition.

Alvin injects these historic tunes with his own modern flavoring that keeps them fresh in light of their aging repose.