Van Lear Rose exceeds all expectations, a bold collaboration in which artists from two different musical universes forge a memorable work that neither could have created alone.

Zep faithful will welcome the belated release as evidence for enduring loyalty, but younger fans may find its diversity and dynamics even more enlightening.

His unsentimental, voluptuously masculine, spirit-guided magic is captured at its best, for all time, in this magnificent farewell.

This set stands alongside Waits's finest work.

Hell Hath No Fury isn't as well-assembled as Lord Willin' or as spontaneous as Clipse's lauded mix-CDs from 2005 but it is coldly efficient in knocking out 12 songs backed with superbly dark and sparse tracks by the Neptunes.

An adventurous meeting place between the Smiths' guitar-driven anthems, the Zombies' vocally intricate garage-pop, and melt-in-your-mouth '70s Quaalude rock.

On every tune, Mercer packs more hooks and melodic invention than most bands do on one album. As a whole, it's an even better record than Inverted World.

Almost wholly brilliant.

In drawing on the theatrical, macro-orchestrations reminiscent of Scott Walker and expanding on the slapdash, quirky, musical humor of the Red Krayola's Mayo Thompson, this album reaches another peak for Bejar and is one of Destroyer's best works yet.

A smoldering rock and roll record that rivals John Lennon’s Plastic Ono Band and Nirvana’s In Utero in terms of unexpectedness.

This is his best since [Supreme Clientele].

West magically sledgehammers home his opinions on taboo topics over beats that are equally daring.

The album boasts a handful of crowd-pleasing, party-starting cuts.... Yet more common are moments of startling beauty... and heavy doses of recrimination and regret.

There's more Patti Smith in her than there is Patsy Cline.

Perhaps only the fantasy duo of King Kong and Bambi could be a more bizarre pairing than Robert Plant and Alison Krauss. Yet on Raising Sand, their haunting and brilliant collaboration, the Led Zeppelin screamer and Nashville's most hypnotic song whisperer seem made for each other

Truly remarkable... Fans of Fela and the Ethiopiques discs will dig this, as will fans of the Notwist, Prefuse 73 and Aphex Twin.

She is still in the forefront of genre-transcending artistry.

There's an emerging depth and pensiveness to their songwriting, a growing sense of spirituality and drama.

Her most musically diverse and accessible album yet.

Sure, it's a jumble, but, like the Beatles' White Album, it hangs together.

True, LCD's music is not for everyone, which may have something to do with why their fans love them as they do. If you fall into the latter category, however, Silver is gold.

An impressive album in the best tradition of the Clan... Had this album come out in 1998, people might have hailed it as another Wu classic.

While [Finn's] odd and humorous rants are essentially compelling, they wouldn't be half as engrossing if his backing group... didn't smack up such a glorious din, scabrous punk rock swagger dolled up with classic hard rock power chords.

Minimum-Maximum is essentially a greatest-hits album with an audience applauding and occasionally shouting.

This album solidifies their standing as one of the most endearingly idiosyncratic bands on the American scene.

The result is an CD that sounds like it's aspiring to be something far more ambitious: a DVD, a theatrical production, even a time machine.

If the lyrics generally lack the literary precision of Zevon’s best work, the songs take on greater weight given the circumstance under which they were recorded.

Rootsy and undeniable, The Intercontinentals is yet another Frisellian work of genius.

Her uncanny, often eccentric lyrics have always been delivered with an inherent passion behind the impulse, but rarely have they approached the boldness of these dozen.

Late Registration can't replicate the novelty of last year's College Dropout, but otherwise, this is an impressively more mature and labored-over album.

Like all of the band’s best work, Thief requires more than a few listens to fully appreciate, but those who stick around will be richly rewarded.

The Flaming Lips' particular and peculiar genius comes to full fruition on the stupendous The Soft Bulletin.

The more Nastasia withdraws into her own world, the more attractive her music becomes.

An album that sounds unlike anything else.

A knockout punch.

Without a doubt the most challenging collection of music she has ever released.

Top to bottom, this may be Chesnutt's best effort since his 1996 disc About to Choke.

Even in its duller moments--the flaccid ballad 'Shirk,' the truncated sax solo that closes 'Virgo,' rainbow messages from God ('Elliptical')--this record fails to depart from the serious verve that has kept this artist relevant and refreshing for years.

Spoon's loosest, most eclectic effort yet.

Black Cadillac is darker than its predecessor, but with melodies often more complex and lyrics more stunningly poetic than anything its creator has conjured before, the album is more transforming than depressing, and exquisitely beautiful.

Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga is the mark of men confident enough to give their album one of the world's goofiest titles.

While it probably won't be remembered as his best album, The Black Album is his most personal to date and features some of his most compelling writing.

With Extraordinary Machine, she shatters already sky-high expectations.

Depending on your partiality for mid-’70s macramé culture, this is either a gift from the gods or the worst thing that could possibly happen to pop culture since bellbottoms made a comeback.

Characteristically classy tunes that will thrill Thompson's fans, who have been waiting for just such a set of literate and challenging music from a musician who never delivers less.

Make up for lost time and embrace these wonderful smartypants-es today.

More definitive than ever, the rhythm and percussion complement Beam's voice, a lulling, almost eerie tone that occasionally recalls John Lennon's early solo work

The results are richly satisfying throughout.

Whether you’re a newcomer to Chasny’s sublime psychedelic folk or were a fan from the get-go and own all the limited editon vinyl, no one could possibly be disappointed with this album.

Out of Season creates a dreamily sinister otherworld that's both vintage and timeless. [Amazon UK review]

If there's a downside to this brilliant, if unlikely pairing, it's that Krauss's somber program could benefit from something a tad more libidinous or uptempo.

Everything about this album moves the duo up a level.

It's difficult to think of a more compelling sophomore record by a young singer-songwriter, Norah included.

While Albarn still has an ear for a melody, without Coxon's guitars to subvert them, most of these songs sound like the work of a new band.

It's a stunning, confident piece of work that suggests the band is merely getting started.

You might think that an album about child abuse would be hard to listen to, but as always, hearing Darnielle's lyrics is an honor and a privilege.

This is the kind of album that clicks right off but continues to grow on you.

DeVaughan simultaneously sounds like every soul singer who has raised bumps on your arms and none of them at all, which is to say he's an artist no matter what banner he flies.

The songs have a measured, elegiac intensity, the sound of musicians choosing their notes carefully and making just the right choices.

Bright Yellow, Bright Orange is further proof that the second half of the Go-Betweens’ career is one well worth following.

Not so much a series of songs as it is a musical mood.

Woman King subtly opens the sonic palette up to include more percussion, piano, and wait is that an electric guitar?

Demon Days actually is even better than its predecessor.

Her readings of the Hank Williams classic, "Cold Cold Heart" and Hoagy Carmichael's "The Nearness of You" alone are worth the price of the CD.

There's not a weak moment on this dark-horse gem of a disc.

For elder listeners Fear probably won't serve as the powerful statement it wants to be--its themes have been explored to more exacting impact before and, musically, it's fairly standard progressive fare--but it is a strong and intelligent album and for a generation that's grown numb from three-minute ditties about life at the end of the country club cul-de-sac that embrace rather than rage against the dying of the light, it may serve as a wake up call and provide hope for a brighter and more color-infused tomorrow.

Why Should the Fire Die? is certainly the trio's boldest and most creative album, albeit one that might not appeal to their earliest fans.

His talents and the heart he puts into his writing, singing, and picking remain at their peak. This stellar collection proves it--four times over.

Get Behind Me Satan is the strangest and least focused effort by these unlikely garage rock superstars to date. It's also their finest, an Exile on Main Street-ish mish-mash where the sum is greater than the parts.

Justice does appear to be that rare breed of dance artist equally capable of stimulating the body and the mind, though neither Richard James nor the Basement Jaxx need fear this act.

A diverse and engaging work.

Making no palpable effort to crack the conventional with overflowing melodies and love songs, Bird instead latches up the intellect to create tiny packages of literature that make always leave you thinking--and snapping your fingers at the same time.

Positively radiant.

The darkest, most mysterious album of his career.

Amidst all the fun is a dynamic record that holds your attention.

Longtime fans might take it like a kick to the head, but this band is clearly moving toward bigger things.

Unable to pen and record a clunker amidst his handsome ballads and cascading rockers, McCaughan coalesces sugar-coated melodies with personal, often uproarious lyrics that can make his 40-something voice sound half its age.

Not since the days of The Tom Tom Club, Bananarama, and "Lucky Star"-era Madonna, has dance-pop been this fun, this bouncy, this unabashedly optimistic.

A record that is wholly satisfying: not too overwrought and never self-assuredly slick.

Ignore it at your peril. [Amazon UK]

Fortunately, this spare approach serves Thompson well because he's such a strong and varied songwriter plus a remarkably distinctive guitarist.

Everywhere on Icky giant riffs leap and shout, with Flamenco horns and those eerie bagpipes and rhythmic shifts and Jack's impatient vocal kinetics, marking new territories even as the White Stripes again populate them with vintage ideas.

Despondent and furious by turns.

Frayed, fuzzy and undeniably excellent.

Helm takes material from a variety of sources and makes it all his own.

As a whole, the album stands as a benediction to an artist whose integrity and success has prevailed in the face of endless trends and fads that have swept away many lesser talents.

It's a more pensive presentation--dare I say it: more mature.

AMC’s second second-life album (recorded with L.A. musicians on bass and drums) is as gorgeous and disorderly as any in its nine-album catalog.

It's a consistently intelligent and daring record, yet remains enormously listenable.

It's not likely this music will age spectacularly well, but so what?

On this album, GB make the Dead Kennedys seem subtle. And it would be nice if there were more variety to their sound.

The Con skillfully packs its instant hooks in so tight, virtually every line becomes the one you want to sing along to--and the twins' lyrics aren't your typical pop pabulum.

Hitchcock has made a return to garage rock not heard since 1989's Queen Elvis.

Strange, alluring, and disarming.

Lush, impossibly mature.

A perfect gift for the Christmas-inclined indie rockster.

Unglamorous clearly shows that the 36-year-old has graduated.

Fans of Norah Jones should gobble up this album, but Peyroux is no mere imitator: She's her own, very real thing.