With Beast Moans, Swan Lake has married the talent and off-kilter intelligence of all three of its members with something more abstract, more visceral, something that sets it apart from all of their individual work.

Far from being a bold reinvention, a Beatles album for the 21st century, the Martins didn't go far enough in their mash-ups.

Orphans is a major work that goes beyond the origins of the material and drags everything past and present with sound and texture into a present to be presented as something utterly new, beyond anything he has previously issued.

The Devil and God Are Raging Inside Me is the completion of their pop-punk molting process and one of the best surprises -- that isn't really a surprise at all -- to come out of 2006.

A house party celebrating Snoop's whole career.

There are moments of quirky holiday splendor -- moments akin to some of the best material on Greetings from Michigan and Illinoise -- that make plowing through the entire five-EP set a pleasure.

If you have the 2002 LTM reissues, there's no need to obtain the disc; it would be completely redundant. If you don't have them, you'll be getting the vivid gist of a sharp and short-lived band -- one that delivered brief, spastic shards of over-caffeinated post-punk with skittish vocals on the verge of spinning out of control.

Yes, Ys is a demanding listen, but it's also a rewarding and inspiring one.

So Divided's remarkable balance between the band's grandeur and power makes it far from a disappointment.

There's no precedent for an album that worships a no-show so hard on one hand, flips the bird to hip-hop protocol with the other, and knowingly refuses to push things forward, even flaunts it.

A minor but pleasantly unexpected surprise.

9 is by no means a failure, or even bad, but it dulls in comparison to what Rice can really produce, which makes it disappointing overall.

This may not be a concept album, but it's structured as a narrative, mirroring the plot of the movie. Unfortunately, this doesn't give The Pick of Destiny the weight or grandeur of a true concept album, because a lot of the music sounds as if it serves the movie, and doesn't stand tall when separated from the film.

Even with its flaws, When Your Heart Stops Beating possesses a surprising vulnerability, which gives the album an understated strength and makes it such an enjoyable listen.

[A] fascinating detour.

The man writes honest, beautifully crafted songs that are adult enough to ponder, tough enough to rock, and tender enough to pull -- not tug -- on the heartstrings.

The Evens' first disc was pointed and protesting, to be sure, but here, on Get Evens, the raw feeling of the record makes the message here more pointed, more specific, and more meaningful.

Here, as with most of her career, Harvey doesn't go for the easy choices.

An exciting introduction to an extraordinary artist captured at just the right time.

Ultimately, Saturday Night Wrist is satisfying, though it may take a few listens given all the changes in individual cuts that tend to blur together the first time or two through.

Pretty Little Head sounds like a record from a woman coming out of girlhood -- more confident, more wise about love, and more focused about her concerns, if no less passionate.

His easy delivery, contrasted with Adams wiry production, creates an emotionally honest, deeply moving recording with the best traits of both men shining forth.

No, Endless Wire is not perfect -- its parts don't quite fit together, and not all of the parts work on their own -- but it is an endearingly human, impassioned work that more than justifies Townshend's and Daltrey's decision to continue working as the Who.

That he fails is not the fault of his individual performance; it's the fault of botched execution.

The worst thing about Playing with Fire is that it's too stale and inept to inspire laughter: it can only elicit weary groans.

In the Absence of Truth is as solidly explosive and as adventuresome as Panopticon, but their elemental control over the music is greater, therefore creating a more even production.

While Once Again might not get as much attention as its predecessor, it's more assured and sounds nothing like an experiment to see what sticks.

It makes for a record that's their strongest, most cohesive yet, even if it isn't quite as weird or compelling as it should be given the group's lofty ambitions.

Sparta... sounds like a beast that's broken its chains and is fighting between the road ahead and going back from whence it came.

This captures a less self-conscious Oberst, which is often a better Oberst.

A little messier than its inspiration but with the same freewheeling spirit, the Walkmen's Pussy Cats feels like a musical wake, rooted in just having fun making music with friends.

This is by far +/-'s most mature work to date.

Calamity is slightly inconsistent and could be described as a hit-or-miss affair, but the hits outnumber the misses.

The softly spooked-out acid folk of The Pirate's Gospel is a captivating debut from Alela Diane, whose enthusiasm and ability for a then-extremely-fresh learner on guitar is quite something.

Too often, his words and melodies end up drowning in their busy surroundings.

Enigk sounds like a mixture of Peter Gabriel, U2, Sarah McLachlan, and a little bit of Elf Power, and tries too hard to be profound and meaningful.

All told, the number of memorable hooks on display here is surprising.

He is writing and recording music that is profound, funny, topical, worldly, and ultimately, necessary.

This is Gill's masterwork.

One of the livelier and better country records of 2006.

Barnes' accordion playing has grown leaps and bounds since Noon.

Young Machetes is occasionally exhausting, but it definitely won't disappoint fans of either the band's earlier or more recent sounds.

The songs themselves are easy to approach if difficult to decipher, and the production details reward repeated listens.

A quietly compelling album, this will please not only fans of Hinson's other solo work, but those who were introduced to him through the Earlies and the Late Cord as well.

The feel is late night, on the edge of quiet, and full of pathos.

Normal Happiness is more in the tradition of his best work with GBV -- sixteen short songs (only one over three minutes, seven under two), with plenty of hooks, lots of guitar and no more fuss than necessary.

Merritt doesn't deviate from his signature lo-fi synth pop and brooding vocals, but he certainly sounds like he's having a whole lot of fun.

Be Still Please is another hidden treasure from one of the truly important bands, and persons, in pop music today.

The highlights are way high, but the album as a whole is "fans-only."

Though some might find it on the meek and lightweight side, many more will likely revisit Long Island Shores again and again.

Ultimately, the band has arrived with a poppier-sounding album while their signature sour earnestness remains intact.

For the most part, the ladies have chosen not to stray too far from their plainclothes rootsy sound, and while that may disappoint some fans, there's enough quality stuff here to light a fire in every train yard oil drum from Vancouver to Halifax.

This mixture of clattering, ramshackle arrangements and smartly put-together tunes... is an intriguing new direction for a band that previously seemed more interested in artsy, diffident post-rock.

On most of Inside In/Inside Out, the band sounds like a more energetic Thrills or a looser Sam Roberts Band, maybe even a less severe Arctic Monkeys at times.

It's filled with sophisticated yet welcoming changes in texture, dynamic, and form/genre that seem effortless, not forced or idiosyncratic for its own sake.

If you give it time, The Information eventually reveals itself as Beck's tightest, most purposeful album yet.

But even if the music doesn't really work, it's hard not to listen to it in slack-jawed wonderment, since there's never been a record quite like it -- it's nothing but wrong-headed dreams, it's all pomp but no glamour, it's clichés sung as if they were myths.

This is a smoking little record. Its focus is small, its reach is large; it's a winner.

While the tracks are longer and more realized, they're still distinctly remixes instantly recognizable as DFA output -- a mark of individual distinction many remixers strive to attain but few reach.

They're a little less baroque, they're a little less depressing... but they're just as emotional and affecting, which makes Gang of Losers very good indeed.

Some cuts, like the English murder ballad "Shankill Butchers" and "Summersong"... sound like outtakes from previous records, but by the time the listener arrives at the Donovan-esque (in a good way) closer, "Sons & Daughters," the less tasty bits of The Crane Wife seem a wee bit sweeter.

Given Brown's talents, it could have been much more.

Sonically, it captures the Evanescence mythos better and more consistently than the first album... but without the songs, it doesn't resonate.

Shine On is a good album that avoids the sophomore slump, but has enough moments of rote rocking to make the next record a worrisome prospect.

It's that perfect balance of sadness, vitriol, and absurdity that makes Hitchcock (when he's on) such a legendary social commentator.

Friendly Fire has the same feel as Into the Sun: namely, it's a pleasant but forgettable arty pop record made by a guy who has some promise but little discipline.

A deeply poetic record.

Part experimental rock, part electronica, and part hip-hop, Subtle's For Hero: For Fool is a complex, innovative, sometimes bizarre, and usually utterly confusing journey into the minds of lyricist Doseone and his five bandmates.

It is, thus far, his masterpiece, and as beautiful a pop record as can be made these days.

Live a Little sounds more open and roomy than the past few Pernice Brothers efforts.

It's one of the most mystical indie-pop surprises to arrive in 2006.

Like Homesongs, this record reveals more with each listen, burrowing its way into your consciousness and becoming a welcome part of your musical DNA.

What really differentiates the album from its predecessors is that there's almost no trace of tension to be heard. It's all about fooling around and being in love.

The best thing that can be said about The Lemonheads is that it sounds like the album Dando and company should have released in 1995.

Similarities to their debut are much easier to find than differences, although the songs aren't quite as memorable (except the single "I Don't Feel Like Dancin'") and Ta-Dah is slightly samey in comparison.

Peaceful and undeniably pretty, this is an album that should please many Sparklehorse fans, even if it doesn't challenge them the way Good Morning Spider and It's a Wonderful Life's best moments did.

It's understandable that Ludacris wanted to show off different parts of himself, but in doing so he didn't have to forget about what fans already knew.

One hell of a live record.

An uncommonly rich and moving album.

This is a keeper, one of those records that you'll still be listening to in ten years.

The Outsider is a carefully crafted, artistically elusive mess -- far more scattershot than even his first UNKLE record (Psyence Fiction), but much more interesting for its excellent productions.

Sometimes Darkel seems in danger of floating away on its flights of fancy, suggesting that Godin gives some of Dunckel's more whimsical ideas some grounding when they work together as Air. Nevertheless, this is a lovely working holiday, full of songs as shimmery and delicate as bubbles, and their slightness doesn't make them any less enjoyable.

This is by far their most accessible and cohesive record yet, and despite a couple of well-meaning but ultimately derivative hiccups in its second half, Awoo should bring a much larger audience into the fold.

Lost in all this is the instantly grabbing songwriting of Kasabian's debut, and to some extent, the bandmembers themselves, who often seem to be riding this swirl instead of guiding it.

Ben Kweller treads the same path as Kweller's other work, but fortunately, it still sounds genuine, not formulaic.

Truth to tell, since the quality of Oldham's songwriting has rarely wavered, the excellent arrangements and McCarthy's contributions make The Letting Go the best of his career to this point.

Without it ever deliberately going for the jugular, Nuclear Daydream is nevertheless an album that is difficult to shake out of your ears; moreover, it's one that only grows stronger with every repeated play.

There is no commercial slant on this music, but it's more relevant than anyone dared expect.

It might not quite seem like what a Fantastic sequel should be -- in fact, it seems more like a sequel to its direct predecessor, 2004's Peachtree Road -- but that's hardly a bad thing.

Mildly entertaining but tremendously taxing.

Hoodstar only makes it all the more apparent that the St. Louis MC's overnight popularity was like lightning in a bottle.

Food & Liquor just might be the steadiest and most compelling rap album of 2006.

Super Extra Gravity matches their previous record, Long Gone Before Daylight, for its dour mood and sour attitude, its lack of discernible hooks, and the unappetizing flavor of the Cardigans' performances.

While she's always been a pleasant presence on album, Krall has developed from a talented pianist who can sing nicely into an engaging, classy, and sultry vocalist with tastefully deft improvisational chops.

At times, Return to Cookie Mountain threatens to become more impressive than likeable -- a complaint that could also arguably be leveled against Desperate Youth as well -- but fortunately, TV on the Radio reconnects with, and builds on, the intimacy and purity that made Young Liars so striking.

The album is little different than their two previous atom bombs, De-Loused in the Comatorium and Frances the Mute -- tense and anxious, continually pushing the boundaries of extreme production, with long periods of dynamics that rise ever higher, followed by an explosion of release (usually screaming hard rock with storms of atonal brass and horns).

At this point, it's impossible to imagine them topping themselves; an album that is merely deeply engaging and wildly entertaining cannot be considered a flop in any way.

Jeremy Greenspan and Matt Didemus depart completely from 2-step and late-'90s Timbaland twitter, polishing their sound to such an extent that absolutely no detectable scuffs are left.