Movement in Still Life is a wildly effervescent, effortless sonic bouillabaisse that works dance, rock, hip-hop, pop, new age, trance, house, you-name-it simultaneously and makes it look easy.

Trickle sounds-feels-smells like both artistic breakthrough and new millennial trip-hop watershed.

The Platform is one of those timeless long-players, like Run-DMC's Raising Hell or EPMD's Strictly Business, where you'll want to commit every track to memory.

What's most pure is Eminem's liberating fearlessness in taking hip-hop left turns and acting the fool. The best hip-hop stand-up comic since Biz Markie; all that and a bag o' chronic.

Probably the last good album we can realistically expect from Pearl Jam.

Ghosts & Flowers, like Sonic Youth's landmark Daydream Nation album, forces the listener to listen very carefully for subtle moments of beauty amidst the near silence and the absolute chaos.

Oops!... I Did It Again proves beyond a doubt that Britney Spears is The One.

A far darker, more turbulent kinda bop.... party music for the dedicated headphone-bobber, barstool shaker, chillout room-gesturer, living room couch-dancer.

That's right, we're talking stadium rock.

Amid R2D2-ish cutesy blips, pretty pulsing melodies, and lackadaisical effects, David rambles on about subjects he finds interesting, like a philosophical friend who's maybe had one too many glasses of wine.

Think of a universe far, far away, where Ministry, Raw Power-era Iggy Pop, Public Enemy, and Meat Beat Manifesto get together for a pissed-off, hyped-up jam. That's what XTRMNTR sounds like, and it's a downright amazing disc.

Smith retains the Lennon-esque simplicity and quirky lyrical phrasing that earned him critical praise in the past even as he digs deeper into his psyche and attempts to work through an off-kilter world.

One of the better pop albums of 2000, a multi-faceted offering that resists easy labeling while extending the band's mighty grip on the popular imagination.

Enlisting a heavy-hitting cast of helpers -- from the best unknown drummer in the world (Carla Azar) to one of the most creatively pure producers around (T Bone Burnett) -- Arthur has transformed a dozen of his best compositions from the skeletal coffeehouse-ready material they surely were at conception into richly-textured and deeply emotive mood pieces.

While the music is broader in scope than before, Konietezko has given no ground to his choice of lyrics.

Quite a few steps away from the "typical" girl-with-guitar record, this is the album that reveals Marshall to be quite a unique force.

Trembling Blue Stars construct gorgeously depressed, evocatively gloomy songs that rival anything the Cure or Lou Reed came up with in their blackest moments.

Gone is the sweeping piano and oozing horns of previous albums. Gone too is the pop sensibility that permeated Dusk, Mind Bomb, Soul Mining, and others. Matt Johnson has never been a pop artist, but he can craft amazing melodies. However, Johnson has hit a new level of menace here, like he's become a subterranean dweller since 1993. It's musically more free form and grittier. This takes some adjustment.

It's clear that Air didn't spend a whole lot of time on these tracks, since most of the music here revolves around a couple of musical motifs and none are as densely complex as their previous work. However, this reductionist approach serves its purpose and, although conceptually a far cry from Moon Safari -- for obvious reasons -- The Virgin Suicides nonetheless fits well within Air's modus operandi.

A beautifully seamless ambient work full of lullabies and dreamscapes?

The Night could very well be Morphine's best work to date. Sandman and company finish the thoughts of 1997's Like Swimming by adding rich, subtle layers to their trio's thick sonic weave without diluting the band's strengths.

With a heavier emphasis on funky bottom end and infectious loops, it could be said that Disco is a much more dancefloor-oriented record, and, to that end, it may very well be. However, resting atop these funky beats is some refreshingly insightful lyricism.

Think of this sultry record as the night to Odelay's day.

So ... How's Your Girl? ... mental infomercial, fashion Trojan horse, soundtrack to a movie we may never see, sheer genius ... uh huh, it's all that and so much more. Handsome Boy Modeling School is your ticket to a better quality of life.

Thickly constructed, melodically rich, and thoroughly well-conceived, Barlow and fellow Implosionist John Davis have concocted a true '90s guitar pop album.

Word had already gotten out about this debut LP: that for its genre, it's as seminal as London Calling and as well rounded as Sign of the Times; it avoids the monotony and facelessness of 99% of house records; and it's as funky as anything out there, past or present. Guess what: it's all true.

It's a well-thought-out, catchy, and complex body-rocker of a record from beginning to end, with only one or two minor missteps.

Despite all this experimentation, Blur still sneaks in perfect pop nuggets such as "Coffee & TV," where cheery harmonies share space with a squealing guitar.