Remarkably varied, lush, and fascinating from start to finish, #1 is a great album.

In the end though, Ladd's too good at producing a realistic commercial rap record; Beauty Party falls prey to the same faults, and the occasionally bland material never rises above its satirical value.

Though Giraffe is definitely Echoboy's most immediate and cohesive work, it's not perfect: the album takes a misguided turn toward the dark and overwrought on songs like "Lately Lonely" and "Wasted Spaces," both of which recall the harsher moments of Primal Scream's Evil Heat.

Freeway delivers a strong album that should lay to rest the speculation that his unique vocal style -- alternating between a scratchy crack and an anything-but-gruff shout, filtered through a consistently high pitch -- would have difficulty remaining tolerable across a full album.

The intricacy of the band's sound remain[s], but with less experimental desperation and considerably better ideas.

It's a decent second album and longtime Verve enthusiasts should leave it at that.

The Music is an incredible effort and a brilliant example of where rock could be headed.

The album is always fantastical and innocent, a meeting of magic and technology.

Thrives on its mixture of fuller-sounding productions and relatively traditionally-structured songs with vocals.

There is a successful degree of experimentation on the songs that is not only tolerable but helpful for an act to constantly remain on top of its game and be relevant with fans.

The band's tendency to start a song quiet, loose, and lovely and then slowly sweat it into a faster, intensified crescendo is familiar by now, but somehow remains vividly evocative.

The fireworks do not ignite the way they might have, but that is the nature of experimentation. Nevertheless, this is all great fun, a function of Shipp's slippery mind, and the results are not only danceable but disconcertingly so.

The Beauty of the Rain is Dar Williams' first recording that truly expands upon the sound of the album before it.

It doesn't scale the heights of either of their main projects, but it's far more consistent and enjoyable than might be expected.

Go-Betweens fans should be very happy with Bright Yellow Bright Orange and glad the band has decided to stay together and continue to make smart, exciting adult pop music.

In the hands of a lesser band, all the different sounds Calexico explores on Feast of Wire could result in a mish-mash of an album, but fortunately for them and their fans, it's one of their most accomplished and exciting efforts.

Aereogramme combines abrasive guitars, feedback, and distorted vocals into rock that, in its own way, is as crunchy and dynamic as Weezer, though as decidedly outsider as Mogwai.

The Datsuns re-create the sound of a beer- and weed-fueled Saturday night in 1973, borrowing and blending the revving guitar riffs and choked, macho vocals of Thin Lizzy, Bad Company, .38 Special, and on occasion, the hornier side of Led Zeppelin.

You Are Free may take awhile longer than expected to unfold, but once it does, its excellence is undeniable.

Still dour and humorless, but pruned of its experimental tendencies, Ministry delivered its first solid record in a decade.

Solid and pleasing, if somewhat predictable.

A significant departure from the band's previous works, marking a new approach to songwriting.

By not taking the easy way out, Ready for Love is a successful experiment that nudges at John Hammond's limitations while satisfying his recently acquired, larger fan base.

Lyrically it's so strong and vulnerable that it works, leaving the listener haunted with the notion that something special has occurred, that he or she has born witness to a man becoming aware of the preciousness of his own life.

Satisfaction enough for those who kept Mezzanine near their stereo for years on end, but a disappointment to those expecting another masterpiece.

What is impressive is that the trio manages to sound contemporary using only piano, bass, and drums, and without resorting to electronic gimmicks.

Life on Other Planets is a smashing return to form, an album giddy with the sheer pleasure of making music.

Save for the unfortunate hip-hop slip-up of "Prego Amore," this is an excellent set of mellow electronic pop.

Everything is predictable and sounds like something Cave has done before. The Bad Seeds' edges are smoothed over by the too-slick production; Cave's lyrics are not provocative or funny or much of anything worth hearing.

In the vein of Kevin Rowland or Elvis Costello, Ted Leo writes lyrical rock songs that sprawl out and rarely depend on a chorus.

Though most of his career highlights also appear here, a parade of Paul Van Dyk productions is not what most listeners need to stave off boredom; his productions all work from a similar framework, and work best in the context of a broader mix set.

Get Rich isn't quite the masterpiece 50 seems capable of, impressive or not. But until he drops that truly jaw-dropping album -- which you know he will -- this will certainly do.

The real problem is that Lupine Howl doesn't really do enough here to distinguish itself from other bands, drawing from such obvious influences as the Rolling Stones and the Doors, and in a lot of ways the album sounds like a tour of '90s retro-influenced bands like the Charlatans, Oasis, or even the Black Crowes.

The group's finest creation yet.

Layer after layer of preconceived notions and excess noise are stripped away to unveil both soft-spoken charm and intense newfound confidence.

The album's laid-back, off-the-cuff experiments are just enjoyable instead of brilliant, but they nevertheless display the undeniable creative chemistry that the trio shares.

Televise is an impressive and adventurous -- if occasionally mopey -- collection of songs.

More often than not, they connect with the material in unexpected ways.... Problems occur when they can't find a convincing way to graft their highly identifiable sound onto the song.

[Corgan's] joyful spirit surges throughout Mary Star of the Sea, even during its many intricate instrumental sections, and it's hard not to get swept up in the momentum, especially since it's married to his best set of songs since Siamese Dream.

The good stuff is strong enough that anyone who cares about Lou Reed's body of work, or Edgar Allan Poe's literary legacy, ought to give it a careful listen.

Oldham concentrates on crafting unremittingly introspective and confessional material in a spare, old-timey format. As sometimes happens on the recordings of his kindred spirit Cat Power, such unstinting uniformity can be a curse as well as a blessing.

Their familiarity with vintage instruments and addictive laid-back swagger help them avoid the pretension that sometimes follows the Beta Band.

An impressive look at Malin's musical maturation.

Sometimes it sounds like Ennio Morricone, sometimes the Penguin Café Orchestra. Mostly it sounds like its own thing.

Selling Live Water follows the Anticon party line (double-timed, singsongy half-sensical ramblings countering slow, lumbering beats) through to conscious hip-hop's most logical dead end.

Shipp, whose restless vision is never clouded by grandiosity or pretense, has become the most important pianist on the scene today. Equilibrium is soul music for the mind.

[Kyle] Fischer is normally a quite capable guitarist whose antics and energy have been noticed for some time by fans at live shows. However, it seems here that his guitar work is merely meant to tread water, biding time for some big explosion that never seems to come.

Red Devil Dawn is a welcome masterpiece of emotional subtleties -- the great record that Crooked Fingers missed the mark on with 2001's drunken, bluesy and somewhat disappointing Bring On the Snakes.

Too often, Airs Above Your Station feels scattered and fades into the background too easily.

A delicate, contemplative union of indie rock, country, and electronica.

Where The Great Eastern was a fairly gentle and tentative record in a lot of ways, this one is bigger and demands your attention. The good news is that it's one of those rare records that actually deserves all of the attention it demands.

While the accompaniment is always thoughtful and inventive, Prekop's vocal idiosyncrasies tend to be a double-edged sword, delightful on the good songs but only accentuating the dreariness of failed experiments like "Le Baron" or "Try Nothing."

Lovebox takes them much too far down the path of production gloss, right on into the field of bland MOR electronica.

Mt. Eerie is a truly stunning album, managing to be deeply beautiful and unnerving, as well as deeply thoughtful, without ever seeming pretentious or heavy-handed.

Best of all, it all feels effortless, from the production to the songwriting.

God's Son isn't quite the masterpiece is could be -- mostly because Nas is so self-involved, sometimes seemingly intoxicated by his kingliness -- but it's surely one of the most remarkable albums of the Queensbridge rapper's highlight-filled career, just a notch or so below Illmatic and Stillmatic.

Electric Circus does suffer from that which ails many contemporary hip-hop albums -- too many guests and a generally lengthy program drag this one down a tad. Nonetheless, Electric Circus is a brave and ruthless statement wrapped in sincerity.

It would be a good standard-issue Whitney album if it wasn't for her disarming, defensive attempt to defuse every rumor hurled in her direction.

A truly lovely album.

Her voice is damaged, and there's not a moment where it sounds strong or inviting. That alone would be disturbing, but since the songs are formless and the production bland -- another reason why the hip-hop announces itself, even though it's nowhere near as pronounced as it has been since Butterfly -- her tired voice becomes the only thing to concentrate on, and it's a sad, ugly thing, making an album that would merely have been her worst into something tragic.

Thankfully, Kevin Shields puts together some great guitarscapes in Evil Heat -- maybe the best work he's done post Loveless. It's what saves this record, since Bobby Gillespie (as usual) tries to ruin some of these tracks with some pretty silly lyrics.

Twoism features the same exquisitely spooky, textured emotronica that fans will want to hear, all at as high a level as the brilliant Music Has the Right to Children to boot.

for a few overblown performances and quasi-epic productions, It Ain't Safe No More finds Busta Rhymes with the same sure grip on his distinctive personality.

Though Snoop Dogg never slipped from the charts, Paid Tha Cost to Be Da Bo$$ smacks of a comeback, and it's a great one.

Phrenology is the hardest-hitting Roots album to date, partly because it's their most successful attempt to re-create their concert punch in the studio.

Redemption's Son achieves a sophisticated marriage of traditional songwriting craft and avant-garde production.

Brainwashed isn't just a success, it's one of the finest records Harrison ever made.

If there's any problem with More Than a Woman, Toni Braxton's fourth album, it's that its so consistent, so much a continuation of its predecessor, Heat, that it may be hard to pinpoint distinctive characteristics.

A less than engrossing record from Piano Magic was bound to happen at some point, but few could have predicted something as dull, drab, and ultimately powerless as Songs From the Chronic Fatigue Ward -- er, Writers Without Homes.

Equally cerebral and hip-shaking, with pulsating grooves and webs of intricate adornments tangling for an otherworldly type of psychedelic dance music.

Slicker Than Your Average is stronger than the average sophomore effort, and it proves that Craig David's abilities are innate.

The feel is sexy, stylish, and fun, and there are numerous highlights, all feeling effortless.

If it's difficult to focus in on what FC Kahuna does best, it's probably because it's all done well.

The Last Temptation isn't going to surprise anyone familiar with what Murder Inc. is all about, but their trademarked balance of the rough (Ja Rule) and smooth (Irv Gotti) has rarely sounded better than it does here.

Quality is proof that intelligent hip-hop need not lack excitement, soul, or genuine emotion; it's one of the best rap albums of a year with no shortage of winners.

Many of the songs sound like they're just on the verge of achieving liftoff, never quite reaching their potential.

The songs lack hooks, as if melody would be too commercial, while the production has its sights on the radio, resulting in tuneless songs that are polished for mainstream consumption.

The Pretenders' eighth studio album, Loose Screw, is their first on an independent label after 20 years with Warner, but the switch hasn't made any difference in the group's style.

In some ways, Riot Act is the album that Pearl Jam has been wanting to make since Vitalogy -- a muscular art rock record, one that still hits hard but that is filled with ragged edges and odd detours.

One of the best rap LPs of the year.

Both technical enough for scholastic jazz ears and organic enough for acoustic traditionalists.

Ikara Colt creates an edgy, electronic/punk-inspired sound with Chat and Business, and the end result is impressively slick.

Though his raps can't compete with the concentrated burst on The Blueprint, there's at least as many great tracks on tap, if only listeners have enough time to find them.

Perhaps 3D doesn't blaze trails like their other albums, but it never plays it safe and it always satisfies, and it's one of the best modern soul albums of 2002.

It is more than the sum of its many parts, as the Warlocks whip up a '60s of the imagination, making you hear the sounds anew while resurrecting the old before your very eyes.

He sticks with simple acoustics and subtle string arrangements; however, A New Day at Midnight doesn't possess the heavy heart of White Ladder.

The album simply powers its way through 16 tracks of seamlessly mixed high-velocity drum'n'bass.

We Are Science sees Dot Allison going beyond even the highs of One Dove and crafting an accessible, evocative masterpiece that consistently surprises and thrills.

It is a relief to hear that although Cash's voice is clearly older and not the booming powerhouse it was in the earlier Sun and Columbia days, he's still got some punch left in him.

It's not that Have You Fed the Fish? is vastly inferior to Gough's debut so much as it's an unbalanced and ultimately frustrating album.

You Can Feel Me is a genuinely funky, finely produced album that often bypasses white b-boy cheekiness.

Justified is just sound and posturing, with no core.

It's hard not to wish that the album had a bit more of the quirks and muscle that gave Breach its backbone. Without it, Red Letter Days isn't quite as forceful, but it is accomplished, melodic, and attractive.

The band is making the finest music in the history of its collective.

The fact that the emotional extremes are few and far between makes the album difficult to wade through -- its impact would've been tripled with about half an hour lopped off, but where to begin?

A truly twisted masterpiece that offers new rewards with each new listen.

Perhaps the strangest twist about this record is how much of it sounds more crude and antiquated than the duo's first two albums, which were released over 20 years prior to this one.

Sure, there's a couple of tracks that fall flat - Young Zee and Obie Trice feel strained - but it all flows well, and it's all strong.