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.

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

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.

From the double album's first echoes of guitar and strings to its droning denouement, godspeed you black emperor! creates a musical soundscape that alternates between flashes of sonic brilliance and moments of quiet ecstasy.

A too-long, languid mess of Hoboken groove.... a thoroughly disappointing affair.

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

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.

Remarkably mature and absorbing.

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.

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.

Yes, as with OK Computer, stark minimalism marks this effort, and the carefully plotted layers of instruments and machine-generated blips only add to the feeling of emotional emptiness. Seemingly stripped bare of all adornment, however, the new album beats with a loud, persistent, sometimes unsteady heartbeat.

An absolutely amazing mainstream pop album.

Concise and compelling, Bootleg Detroit is a sonic snapshot of Morphine basking in its best virtues.

The seamless integration of acoustic strumming, post-collegiate lyrical references, crystalline ambiance and overall etherealness of the entire album make With Ghost an album that certainly stands on its own.

But unlike the band's overbearing forays into trip-hop and dub before, a new level of soul and texture emerge from Saint Etienne's neo-modernist stylings.

A real piece of art, with an unmistakably original sound and incisive storytelling.

Somehow these fragments instantly assemble themselves into a gorgeous whole, and there's not a piece you could imagine replacing.

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.

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

Beaucoup Fish is 74 non-stop minutes-worth of next level disco inferno.

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

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.

More than justifies the hype.

Immaculately recorded and mixed, the set (all classics, from "Pearls Girl" and "Born Slippy" to "Juanita" and "King Of Snake") presents all of the improvisatory and visceral excitement of an Underworld gig without (as is the case with most live recordings) losing any of its sonic intensity.

Spare as the overall sound of the album is, the interplay between the rhythms, samples and voices is vibrant and eloquent...

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 record of both disappointments and welcome surprises.

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