Love and Theft is a strange trip through Dylan's personal relationship with the blues, whether it's the silly story-song "Tweedle Dee & Tweedle Dum," the mandolin lament "Mississippi," or the solid blues-rock of "Lonesome Days Blues" and "Summer Days."

A lush cruise through the Caribbean's romantic songwriting traditions with some additional stops in South America.

Waits' voice has always been an acquired taste, but those on the bus will appreciate the way he throws himself into every track as if haunting the characters like some sort of lunatic guardian narrator.

What dignifies her from the pack is her ability to blend accessible and likeable arrangements with messages that are simultaneously straightforward and enigmatic, jovial and pained.

The merely wonderful arrangements pale next to the songs themselves.

Wicked Grin is a rousingly successful experiment. The album's best moments equal -- and often surpass -- anything in both artists' consistently creative careers.

The aptly titled Stories from the City, Stories from the Sea plays like an almanac of her adventures of the past few years, and reflects a newfound sense of self. Her songs once again reek of sexuality -- sometimes frustrated, sometimes satisfied -- resulting in alternating episodes of blistering, trashy, gutter guitar rock, and keyboard ballads of sheer melodic grace. She also reveals a greater command of her vocal abilities (with all the shrieks now in just the right places), and inspired new lyrical dashes.

With Vespertine, Bjork has constructed a whispering wall of wonders, and instead of forcing everyone out, has invited the world to look through the cracks.

13 tracks of the kind of confident, effortless wordplay that made him a household name in the first place.

Remedy is not only the best dance record of the year, but maybe one of the best ever.

Unlike the band's earlier material, which echoed with thunderous volume, Leaves Turn Inside You is textural and sedate, combining the hazy urgency of Sonic Youth's Daydream Nation with the creativity of Yo La Tengo and the ethereality of Slowdive.

Low has crafted a recording that exceeds its own high standards of creativity, harmony, and subtlety.

A 72-minute haul into a cold, stirring, private space where the post-punk isolation of Joy Division is redefined and softened with mesmerizing doses of melody and romantic longing.

Like so many great fuzzy rock albums, from the Rolling Stones' Exile on Main Street to R.E.M.'s Murmur, it takes a few listens to seep into your bloodstream.

A record that's certain to be name-checked by pop savants 20 years from now.

Sometimes beautiful, sometimes disquieting, Time (The Revelator) is something short of revelatory, but it's entrancing nonetheless.

Fixed Context is a prime example of mutable sound, which is to say, songs that are less about structure than direction.

Transcendental Blues measures up to the tough artistic standards Earle has set for himself since 1986's Guitar Town.

Though nothing new -- instrument-wise -- is added to the mix of drums, guitar, and piano, the White Stripes' recipe cooks up heavier overall on White Blood Cells, while still retaining some of the cheeky, barroom brashness that has become their stock in trade.

Dolly Parton has at last returned to her musical home and, boy, are the neighbors ever grateful. That "home," of course, is Kentucky bluegrass music and the melancholy acoustic strains of the Appalachian Mountains.

All Hands on the Bad One may not be as spiritually cohesive or accomplished as the band's classic 1997 outing, Dig Me Out, but none of that matters when you turn it up and play it loud.

As savvy and sophisticated as the movie itself.

A feast of post-punk and seminal house.

May be the Coup's tightest album yet.

Okay, call it a comeback, because it ought to raise Burke's profile higher than it's been in decades.

Spoon's 1998 album, A Series of Sneaks, was a near-perfect blend of elementary rock, sharp lyrics, and hooky melodies. On the band's just-released follow-up album, Girls Can Tell, the group manages to build upon the greatness of its previous effort.

His rhymes often approach the immediacy of raw, street-level reportage, like CNN with a better soundtrack.

This is the stuff of pure comic genius.

The group's most gorgeously crafted album ever.

Callahan has a gift for expressing complex human issues -- death, depression, retribution, separation -- through uncomplicated language.

One of the most stunning and gorgeous records of this young decade.

Central Reservation finds Orton's unique, husky voice glowing within her assured, slowly simmering tunes. With her voice, which aches and yearns, caressing the ears like a worn, wool mitten on a winter day, Orton beguiles as a '90s natural woman.

Although they were written as early as 1996 and recorded in 1997-98, the songs on Old Ramon (like most Red House Painters material) have a timeless, dreamy quality to them that prevent them from sounding stale. An album this beautiful can never come too late.

Although it may appear frantic, Play is an eclectic and coherent work where Moby accesses an array of sounds from his milieu of influences.

It's great for kids and parents, because TMBG, like former Del Fuego Dan Zanes, are among the only children's musicians who recognize that real rock and roll has always been goofy and childlike.

The Hives seem to have approached Vicious with one aim in mind: to rock – hard -- for 27 minutes straight. Even more impressively, they actually pull it off.

The effect of the combination of all these elements is stunning and profound, and ranks among Waits' finest albums, albeit his most depressing by a long shot.

After fifteen years of continually blossoming brilliance, the Flaming Lips can count themselves among the most essential American bands in rock history.

Piled high with elegant strings, horns, and vibraphone, these 10 tracks mark a new sophistication for this talented group.

Isolation Drills may not match Bee Thousand's magical, mystical tone (not many records can), but it's as melodic and powerful as the best of GBV's vast catalog. It also firmly cements Pollard's reputation as one of rock's all-time greats...

The group studiously avoids the hackneyed synth-slabs that propelled their ascent up the hip-hop production ranks. In doing so they reveal an unforeseen musical sophistication, healthily cleansing themselves of all familiar bling-bling excesses, and reinventing themselves by delving into the realm of live instrumentation.

The arbiters of mellow have turned the fully realized indie pop of their last and most accessible effort, I Can Hear the Heart Beating As One, inside out, exposing a softer, fleshy side that's more akin to some of their earlier outings.

Rarely does a relative unknown come across with an album as fiercely confident and fully formed as this.

Unlike Odelay, the mix-and-match pastiche of Midnite Vultures doesn't show its seams.

His latest album manages to find a middle ground between mindless crowd-pleasing and progressive sound manipulation.... Unreasonable Behaviour is obviously Garnier's attempt to push the creative envelope, with entirely satisfying results.

O Brother, Where Art Thou?, features some of the finest bluegrass and old-school twang to be assembled in one place in recent memory. Put together by a team that includes production maestro T-Bone Burnett and singer Gillian Welch, O Brother is carefully -- almost encyclopedically -- compiled, with an emphasis on the sort of gospel-like, acoustic-and-harmony-reliant country once popularized by the Carter Family and other such groups.

Sharing with Marvin Gaye and D'Angelo the ability to sing in forceful anger while seducing you with sweet talk, this 22-year-old Philadelphia singer positions himself to become the next great soul man.

Indulging in various vices, imagining exotic locales, and pining after the bad boy, he is now more worldly and wise; it makes for a more textured -- if not as immediately winning -- album.

As a result of Bragg and Wilco's increasing ease with Guthrie's enormous legacy, this album sees both more experimentation and a stronger contemporary feeling than its predecessor.

Call it urban ethereal, grounded in gritty raps and coiled funk rhythms, bolstered by jazz keyboards, soaring vocals, and synthesizers.

An angular art-punk record that twitches as if in the throes of electroshock treatment.

But, despite the added highlights of obscure noise effects and spaced-out keyboards, you can't help but notice that the music seems, at times, to lose a bit of momentum on certain tracks, serving as merely a backdrop for Malkmus' spontaneous bursts of guitar improvisation and catchy hooks.

Ray at last gives full voice to her riot grrrl urges, and if the CD isn't exactly combustible, it does evoke the spirit of such Ray heroes as Husker Du and mid-period Replacements.

Both sober and celebratory, The Rising makes a strong case for the transcending power of rock and roll.

His music remains lively and contemporary even when he reworks traditional songs old enough to have their copyrights lapse into the public domain.

Secret South may be an even stronger work than its predecessor, 1998's exceptional Low Estate

Their playing is loaded with the confidence of established veterans.

One listen to Asleep in the Back's "Newborn" invokes a feeling of unmistakable contemplation and a sense of beauty entirely absent from the repertoires of the Oasis and Verves of Brit rock's last generation.

But, due to poor track titling and a rather wishy-washy sound (first it's Rusted Root, and then the Pixies, then Frank Black and the Catholics), the album ultimately doesn't have much of a solid impact.

There are no real surprises on Figure 8, just the same gorgeous, soft vocals and acoustic guitar heard on his previous releases...

Nas has compiled an imaginative State of the Union address to the streets.

Unlike most acts who tend to get over-hyped and fall far short of expectations, Norway's Röyksopp does not disappoint.

The debut offering from England's Broadcast cascades over the listener like a lush film score.

Double Figure further fuses the themes fans have come to expect, but feels even more warm and organic than past efforts.

A reaffirming celebration of small details.

The Covers Record is for the daring music fan; Marshall's quiet journey and its rich, emotional rewards are not for the faint of heart.

Built around mellotrons, bowed saws, and other odd sonic devices, All Is Dream's arrangements often recall the prog-rock heyday of bands such as Can and Yes, albeit with more somber hues.

Sexsmith's most underrated asset is his most obvious: that voice. The way he slides into a line, pauses, and then delivers for maximum effect… No histrionics, just truth.

With Kid A, Radiohead has made the ultimate 3 a.m. stoner-headphone album, one that marks an entirely logical progression from -- if not necessarily an improvement upon -- the techno-but-not-really O.K. Computer.... Occasionally, it feels less like a rock record and more like a museum piece, and as a work of art, it's laudable. As an actual, listener-friendly offering, it leaves something to be desired: It's precisely the sort of record a band makes when it has endless amounts of time and money, and has spent long periods of time being told what geniuses its members are.

Music is a weaker record than its predecessor, with only a few tracks possessing the strength, pop sensibility, and hooks that made Ray of Light such a success.

A reminder of how great the band could be when its members put their minds to it.

There are a few saccharine missteps, such as "I Surrender," with its smarmy smooth-jazz guitar harmonies. And certainly this isn't the most varied album, especially by compilation standards -- Sylvian's instrumentals are unfairly slighted, and some more energetic tracks were left untapped. But the flipside is that this is a remarkably coherent collection that largely sets a mood and sticks to it, with the lush productions and Sylvian's charmingly tremulous, attractively reedy singing soothing casual listeners, yet revealing greater depths should one choose to listen for them.

Sounds like a tighter, more focused version of past glories.

All the big Wu dogs are here -- Ghostface Killah, Method Man, Raekwon, Genius, etc. -- and it sounds like they've been sharpening their skills like knives. They toss rhymes back and forth with the precision of a machine -- they're so good it's almost scary.

Mama's Gun wisely doesn't stray too far from the free-flowing R&B of Baduizm: Almost every track here is slinky, scat-influenced soul with rich female backing voices, seeded with the occasional string section, trumpet, or sample (most notably Dr. Dre's "Xxplosive"). Lyrically, most of Mama's Gun rings true, with "Bag Lady," the somewhat draggy first single on which Badu dispenses soulful advice to a homeless woman, as the sole exception.

Occasionally, Yang's sugary, torchy vocals are too heavy-handed for this ethereal drone pop.

The most disappointingly safe alternative album of the year.

There are few big drum samples or disco beats on Sound of Water; as its title suggests, it's far more fluid and sensuous than any music the group has made before.

It's sort of beautiful in its ugliness, a metal record lovingly buffeted by details and white noise.

The Contino Sessions is one of the more interesting, well-crafted albums of late 1999. Death in Vegas partners Richard Fearless and Tim Holmes have packed as much interest and emotion into each of the album's relatively short 48 minutes as they possibly could.

Built to Spill's combo of wry phrasing and explosive sound is more honed on this album than ever before.

Certainly his most personal record, arguably his best.

Although devoted fans will welcome this straight-down-the-middle approach with open arms, those on the fringes who were intrigued by their tinkering will find it lacks some of the vibrancy of their recent artistic adventurousness.

Still walking that tightrope between seductive soul and fearsome BPM counts, Size and crew grab you by the earlobe and drag you along, whether you like it or not. This time, though, they've polished their sound to a liquid smoothness and brought some friends along, namely Method Man and Rage Against the Machine's Zack de la Rocha.... At a time when drum-and-bass has lost its momentum and focus, In the Mode glimmers with brilliance simply because it's everything that drum-and-bass isn't.

Weaving fragmented elements of hip-hop, folk, and bossa nova, Whoa, Nelly! is one wildly entertaining multicultural jam.... Though her lyrics are a lot smarter than today's average pop offering, they do wear the more common clichés of hippy-chick wisdom a little too proudly at times. But that's OK: If she's got to get her cosmic ya-yas out, the first record's the place to do it.

So … How's your Girl is more an experiment in possibility than a cohesive album -- hip-hop rubs up against various other forms of digital noise, and the frictional frisson is both pleasant and surprising. Luckily, Handsome Boy Modeling School has lessons well worth learning.

The best results are in the vein of Low-era Bowie. The duds turn up, surprisingly, in the area that Blur is strongest -- songwriting.

Artistically, Beaucoup Fish lives up to its advance billing, crisscrossing the genres of rock, techno, ambient, disco and jazz to create a rich, multi-leveled listening experience.

Framed in delicate, candlelit arrangements that beckon like distant ghosts, Phillips addresses matters of faith, love, and spiritual connection in such a way that questions are as important as answers.

While the band's sound is unique, too many of the remaining ten songs play like slight variations of each other, and few of them stick.

Like her two previous solo records, Merchant's stately gloom is the stuff of pretension and precision, and her serviceably beautiful voice comes off as either darkly charming or annoyingly lilting (sometimes both at the same time).

Brion girds Apple's elastic melodies with off-kilter beats, giving her music a more rhythmic feel than it has previously had, while the singer herself runs the spectrum of grim emotions.

With Night Works, the gung-ho Layo and Bushwacka! have made an intelligent album that doesn't stray too much from it's shadowy overall mood, aided by determined breakbeats and drawn-out orchestral sounds.

Beautifully constructed pop songs, reminiscent at times of the Go Betweens, the Red House Painters, and even Brian Wilson in his more ambient mode. Broken by Whispers is a quiet album, then, but its intelligence, taste, and daring vulnerability hit hard -- whispers with all the impact of screams.

The eclectic, pan-genre disc opens -- as did 2000's Transcendental Blues -- as an unabashed rocker, but this time around Earle uses the heavy artillery to underscore weightier worldly themes.

Might already have an inside shot to be the best record of 2002 here in the states.

De la Rocha's rabid diatribes occasionally go overboard, particularly on the tracks (Eric B & Rakim's "Microphone Fiend" and Minor Threat's "In My Eyes," for example) that feed into the band's sometimes one-dimensional rap-metal groove. But when the band steps out of character -- as it does during its rudimentary take on MC5's "Kick Out the Jams" or its pacific reading of "Beautiful World" -- the results can seem truly transcendent.

As cohesive and potent as Everyday or anything else in the DMB's catalog