The most personally felt, universally inclusive record of her career.

A vital document of Led Zeppelin's formidable legacy.

Madlib creatively melds electronic and jazzy elements, entertaining voiceovers akin to the kind heard on Batman or Superman cartoons, and snippets of Sun Ra to fashion a wildly diverse yet coherently executed tableaux of brainy, original noise-art.

The second disc... is the sound of a band at the height of its powers, employing a ten-piece band and backup singers, and exhibiting an absolute mastery of its material.

Granted, those who have the David Byrne-endorsed Everything Is Possible sampler of Os Mutantes' hottest cuts will find less value here, but Tropicalia serves as a decently comprehensive introduction to an essential period in music history.

Orphans is a bravura showcase for the instrument of Tom Waits’ voice.

One of the most refreshing hip-hop records in quite some time.

[Speakerboxxx:] A worthy addition to the impressive OutKast catalogue.... [The Love Below:] Unfortunately, Attention Deficit Disorder just isn't a workable substitute for craft, nor is a preoccupation with sex quite the same as art.

What could be utterly pedestrian, so-what material in the hands of a lesser talent is instead imbued with cheeky mythic significance by Skinner -- blessed with an uninhibited gift for gab and a willingness to reveal all facets of his character, grotty warts included.

But if the album feels less personally tied to Illinois than Michigan was to Michigan, the cost is worth paying: The style and overall sentiment of the new album are more sophisticated than those of its predecessor.

In terms of sheer ambition -- and the realization that if you're going to use strings, you might as well go completely over the top with them -- The Arcade Fire is a promising, unapologetically melodramatic sure bet.

Yes, it may not hew faithfully to past MMJ records, but its wide-open range perfectly exemplifies the group's adventurous spirit.

Rather than lose control of his programmed loops, Hebden sounds completely in control, the conductor of an invisible digital orchestra, changing gears on a whim.

If Time Out of Mind is the weathered, death-obsessed uncle who drinks too much and broods over things unchangeable and distant, and Love and Theft is the rakish cad gleefully dancing on the edge of the apocalypse, then Times is Theft’s clean-shaven, less-interesting brother, with a bit of schooling under his belt and a professional spit-and-polish finish.

There's an unwavering confidence and muscular focus behind the music that holds from start to finish.

Last Exit is noteworthy for taking on a sound that's easy to screw up (emoting over synthetic beats) and actually making it work.

Faultless sequencing, an array of clever (and comfortably familiar) beats, and a refreshingly optimistic, apolitical vibe make We Are Monster a keeper.

In addition to simply being a package for the band's more obscure tracks, the album nicely spans its shift from folksy, melancholy introspectiveness to light summer-pop.

The Pernice Brothers' strongest effort yet.

Chutes Too Narrow proves the Shins have more on their minds than singing the perfect harmony or writing the ultimate couplet, and it's that deeper sense of introspection that makes it a keeper.

For the initiated, there’s true primal joy to be heard in this mammoth creation. You’ve just got to be willing to shed those tightly guarded notions and listen.

Ejstes is a remarkable talent, and it will be worth listening to hear if he leaves his ardently retrograde Dungen identity behind and pushes toward more forward-leaning concepts.

Return to Cookie Mountain validates the promise of TV on the Radio, an outfit that heretofore had displayed more potential than actual returns.

With Up in Flames, the sound of post-electronica has arrived.

Rubies is one of the most enjoyable listens from Bejar’s solo catalog and comfortably stands with 2002’s This Night as his best effort.

Rejoicing in the Hands is a remarkable album, and Banhart displays a range and gift for melody that belies his twenty-three years.

Hill feels more like a retrospective than a steady gallop toward the next stage in Smith's artistic advancement.

The fact that a band spawned over ten years ago is so willing to try new things is refreshing, but with The Woods, Sleater-Kinney has surpassed even its most ardent supporter’s expectations as to the artistic heights the trio can attain.