The band socks away the adventurous experimentation that dogged some of its most recent records to investigate a post-September 11, war-ravaged world overflowing with urgency and significance.

Each [song] is epic (and not in the bad Creed "arms-spread-on-the-mountaintop" way): packing in more drama, billowing guitar solos and stealth pop hooks than the Strokes' entire back catalog.

All in all, this is a calmer Truckers set, less ragged and more polished.

Garcia and company wear their '80s influences proudly throughout, yet bring enough fresh ideas to the mix to avoid being mere slaves to precious retro-fashion.

By and large this is a delightful power-pop excursion.

Positively radiant.

It's what Sigur Ros might sound like if they came from Arizona, and it's truly excellent.

More skilled than the debut, Lunatico is no sophomore slump, though hardcore house music fans may want to wait for remixes.

Coyne is a shrewd observer of human nature, and an even shrewder songwriter and this album stands as his greatest and most varied work yet.

Where this translates, then, is with those willing to man up and embrace what makes Pink Pink: her spellbinding ability to render rebelliousness in all the many colors of the rainbow.

Fabulous.

This is his best since [Supreme Clientele].

Add 3121 to the mounting pile of evidence: Prince is the black Beck.

It takes a few listens to sink in, but Everything is transcendent, shimmering, layered, and smartass emo-pop fully ready for stadium saturation.

Grand National's main skill lies in their ability to twin their fine songs to tight electronic productions, striking the perfect midpoint between live organics and cool digital sequencing.

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.

His most consistently compelling release in decades.

Pay the Devil reiterates Morrison's own musical diversity and flair for making any song his own.

Although this isn't the masterpiece that the self-titled Black Mountain disc was, it certainly gives devotees lots more music to listen to until their next disc comes around.

A moving, eloquent gift to Jackson's entire audience.

Despondent and furious by turns.

Reverberate[s] with the wistfulness and introspection that have forever been his trademark.

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.

You'd buy this album for the same reason you buy Robyn Hitchcock, for the observations, sardonic-ism, and sarcasm--not to mention Eef's singular, strained voice.

Both her most musically spare and artistically complex [album] to date.

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.

He continues to take chances and not all of them pay off.

Blige, never far from the thoughts of the lovelorn, didn't need a breakthrough, but anybody with an ear for artful confession will be glad she's given us The Breakthrough anyway.

Oral Fixation Vol. 2 finds Shakira reclaiming some of the bite she showcased on 1998's smashing Donde Estan Los Ladrones?

Their songs are infectious, silly and often weirdly beautiful.

Sweaty, head-spinningly good dance music.

The amazing thing is not that there are still so many unreleased tunes in the solo Pollard/ GBV vaults, but how engaging this stuff is despite fidelity that at times is atrocious.

A fabulous collection of delirious, dizzy alt-pop.

This is music you listen to when drugs don't work anymore.

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

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

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

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

His most straightforward country music to date.

Wildflower moves Sheryl Crow one step closer to Hall of Fame status.

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

The album isn't without its problems––come the halfway mark ("Sons of Plunder") vocalist David Draiman and his mates lapse into the expected, with a series of songs that are good but rarely as remarkable as those found in Act I.

A little more subdued than the songs on its firecracker debut, Make Out?, yes, but hardly lacking brains or bite.

The band parlays its tuneful edification into an experimental collage, bouncing between art school rock, guitar-heavy psychedelia and keyboard hippiedom, yet interconnected by lyrics that are both shrewd and satisfying.

While previous releases have found the pride of North Mississippi exploring various manifestations of their musical identity, on Electric Blue Watermelon they pull everything together and bring their artistic progression full circle.

Some of their best work in nearly two decades.

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.

The Outsider may be a cut below its predecessor, the artistic, critical, and commercial breakthrough that was Fate's Right Hand--perhaps the element of surprise is gone, perhaps the songs aren't quite as sharp, perhaps it's just not possible to catch lightning in a bottle twice in a row--but that was a tough act to follow, and this one's none too shabby.

Even when he turns down the volume, he never tones down the creative intensity.

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.

If there's one thing the R&B phenomenon demonstrates on Grown & Sexy, is that growing up is sexy.

A few songs are experiments that should have stayed in the studio; "Left-Handed Dub" is dreadful and the remixes by Flowchart and Two Lone Swordsmen are a bit dated--too ‘90s-sounding. But that's still only one tenth of the album, the rest of which is a pleasure.

[The] consistent quality belies any notion of the extraneous.

Brit-leaning space-pop that switches rhythmic gears with pleasing regularity from dreamy to driving.

The time apart has made the Posies come back fiercer, louder and heavier.

Somewhere Down in Texas could have benefited from the addition of an irresistible rhythm tune or another example of the western swing that Strait embraced so fervently early in his career.

His richest and most consistently satisfying release since the late '80s.

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.

Another Day on Earth is a more personal album from the ambient avatar, a recording of rare and meticulous maturity.

No one can breath breezy, sun-splashed melodies into three-minute fits of aggravation and despair quite like songwriting maestro Joe Pernice.

While the material seems to document the end of a relationship and the hope for romantic renewal, there's a freewheeling playfulness to the arrangements.

Out of Nothing is a truly exceptional album.

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.

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.

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

Shakira's bleating, biting voice is in fine form, and it gives the material an electric urgency.

Once J.A.C. is in your player, it may be awhile before you take it out.

Demon Days actually is even better than its predecessor.

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

This destined-to-be-classic release will please a wide variety of his fans.

Spoon's loosest, most eclectic effort yet.

Live at the Fillmore showcases her raw wound of a voice and the rough edges of her band in all their unvarnished glory, as the music cuts across conventional categories of country, blues, folk, rock (and rap) to strike a distinctly personal chord.

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.

These are heartfelt songs: sometimes cheeky and occasionally heartbreaking.

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.

Emancipation works the kind of pure-pop magic that sets us all free.

Meltdown is easily Ash's best album since 1977; this is the sound of a band becoming interesting again. [Amazon UK]

The drifting chords and soft voice are still in place, only now Johnson's instinct for melody has sharpened alongside his ability to self-edit.

The Beekeeper returns the quirky singer to the same whimsical terrain of 1992's Little Earthquakes, but with much stronger storylines, and a much more assured and nuanced voice.

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

It’s an unpredictably bipolar record with plenty of mood swings and emotional shifts that will ultimately leave listeners with feelings of euphoria.

The drawback is a lack of diversity which keeps those sunny, delicious moments from having the impact they should.

Happiness in Magazines is riddled with glorious pop songs, and in a sane world would yield several hit singles. [Amazon UK]

Frayed, fuzzy and undeniably excellent.

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.

It doesn't even matter much that he's a B minus rhyme spitter, or that he spends way too much studio time name dropping.

The disc is truly beautiful on the ears, filled with gorgeous dynamics, crisp, discordant playing and impressive production to boot.

Red Light District has its share of filler, but, track for track, Ludacris still delivers satisfaction.

Few bands in bluegrass can match the virtuosity of Union Station's interplay, but the artistry of Alison Krauss transcends genre.

Those who are intrigued by electronica but find it's too chilly for their tastes would be wise to check out Psapp.

At once new and old, familiar and fresh.

Hope of the States pull off the commendable trick of twisting avant-garde apocalyptica into bona fide pop songs. [Amazon UK]

Turns out those hypothetical comparisons to Sgt. Pepper's weren't so far off the mark.

The wide array of musical reference points show rap's sonic possibilities.

A denim-clad, riff-heavy beast of a rock album. [Amazon UK]

Tears for Fears skirts the has-been trap impressively, translating years of experience into play-it-again, sophisticated modern pop worth paying attention to.

An album that should appeal to fans of Weller and the original legends alike.

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.