Remarkably, these songs not only retain their emotional core even after they've been cleaned up, but they perhaps even gain more resonance in this setting.

Fans of Led Zeppelin may not take to these stylistic changes well, but Plant's adventurous tendencies are well placed on the ten songs here.

Unlike many other pop postmodernists, the Vines never sound weighed down by all the influences they include in their music -- it's as if they're so excited by everything they hear, they can't help but recombine it in unique ways.

Funny, beautiful, and moving, Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots finds the Flaming Lips continuing to grow and challenge themselves in not-so-obvious ways after delivering their obvious masterpiece.

It's evident the Waxwings wanted a heavier, darker sound this time out, and even though several tracks are embellished with cello, violin, and horns, most of Shadows fails due to a murky, muddled production and mix, not to mention an uninspired track sequencing.

The band's best record in some time, and for anyone not a purist, it's possibly Morcheeba's best ever.

Yeah Yeah Yeahs cram more ideas and attitude into five songs than most bands express in an entire album.

Riff, vamp, timbral fractures, lyrical tension, splintered harmonics, and a constant, seductive sense of groove permeate this jazz album, opening up a door onto a brave new future for a free jazz with soul -- Spooky has exceeded all expectations here.

Stirring, unpretentious yet powerful, Halos & Horns effectively continues Parton's glorifying of her mountain roots.

Hard Candy is the sound of a band at a creative and poetic summit.

Sticking close to the synth pop influenced material of their debut, the album sports noticeably higher fidelity, catchier tunes, and an improved illustration of Dykes' vocals.

Overall, the album leans more toward the melodic end of their oeuvre, but they have grown into this kinder, gentler mode organically, progressively working toward this groove little by little, album by album.

It's fun, to be sure, especially for the fans who are the compilation's target audience, but everything here sounds like the classic definition of B-sides -- good and familiar, but not as good as what made the album.

It's hard not to find this album kind of disappointing, a confirmation that no matter what they do, Oasis Mach II will never have the sheer abandon or thrill as Definitely Maybe through Morning Glory.

Muzikizum is informed by a slim, spare aesthetic that sounds more 1992 than 2002, evoking simply produced, imperial-sounding tracks from Spooky and Leftfield; in other words, the glory days of progressive house.

For the most part, this is more of the same, which disciples will have no qualms about.

It's distinctly focused with an urban appeal while rooted in rock, and a bit comparable to the likes of Poe, Fiona Apple, and Beth Orton.

On the vintage foundation of simple, minimal patterns repeated to often-hypnotic effect, Wire builds a beefed-up, contemporary wall of sound.

Murray Street's first four songs rank among the most consistent, and consistently exciting, work in Sonic Youth's career, so much so that the album's shorter, more rock-oriented songs feel a bit anticlimactic.

At times, John Barry conducting the Buzzcocks; at others, EMF covering Petula Clark.

A release that seems to present a band on the verge of an artistic breakthrough.

In other words, he didn't take any unnecessary risks -- after all, the formula proved successful the first time around -- and that's partly why Nellyville isn't as exciting as it perhaps could be.

Universal Truths and Cycles shows the band has lost touch with the most important thing outside producers brought to their TVT albums -- someone to help pick, choose, and sequence Robert Pollard's over-abundance of songs.

It's not a splashy comeback, then, but a quiet return to something Gabriel does best -- creating soundscapes that are at once alien and familiar, eerie yet comforting.

Unfortunately, Oakenfold isn't much of a pioneer any more, and though it's clear his ear for a solid production hasn't deserted him, Bunkka sees him following the trends instead of pushing them.

Shaddix's woes connect directly to a large and equally confused audience, and that nobody this side of Kurt Cobain communicates them with as much power.

Anyone expecting the sharp, high-lonesome sound of "How Mountain Girls Can Love" and "Roll in My Sweet Baby's Arms" may be disappointed at the sound of the septuagenarian's old bones croaking together, but anyone who can appreciate the stark purity of honest American folk music will hold this album close to their hearts.

James' musical prowess on the anthemic "Born of Frustration" and 11-minute sonic storm of "Sound" are great representations of what made them a brilliant pop band in the first place.

Ultimately, No! is one of the group's most creative albums in years, and undoubtedly one of 2002's best children's releases, because it says yes to fun and individuality.

Though the lo-fi D.I.Y. production slows the momentum on a handful of tracks, when Slug's rhymes and producer Ant's beats click, the results are as good as underground hip-hop gets.

By cutting away some of the fat and finding new ways to deliver their trademark roar, the members of Korn manage to offer a strong and lean album that maintains their place as innovators in a genre with few leaders

A colorful, satisfying album that feels like a classic.

Ultimately, the disc is a mix of Afrocentrifugal explosiveness -- not only from the music, but also from her powerful lyrics that make the political personal and the personal political.

Archer Prewitt returns to the whip-smart pop sensibilities that defined his first two LPs, upping the ante to reveal an altogether new sophistication and complexity that spur his music to unexpected heights of brilliance.

This is the kind of debut that lurches into the grungy excess befitting trashcan fires, anachronistic outsider idolization, and massive Feeder collections assembled inside Southern Californian suburbs.

Anna is nothing revolutionary, of course, and that dog. fans have certainly heard this before. But that same audience will most likely want to hear it again, as will anyone who believes female rockers don't need to choose between being a folky riot grrrl (Ani DiFranco, Dar Williams) or a mainstream maven (Meredith Brooks, Sheryl Crow).

The problem is Lavigne is still so young she's listening to the radio hits of the '90s and early 2000s: she's Pink when she's bucking authority, Alanis Morissette when she's angry, and Jewel when she's sensitive.

As much as the vocals, however, the fault for Dirty Vegas lies with the unambitious production; Dirty Vegas make a crossover group like Underworld sound positively edgy in comparison.

An occasionally jumbled, yet undeniably pleasant, collection that unsurprisingly feels like a hybrid of a proper Belle & Sebastian album and a more traditional film score.

Shows a refreshing rawness that was absent before.

The depth of his production sense and the breadth of his stylistic palette prove just as astonishing the second time out.

Though they may be more focused, Enon will never be straightforward, but that's one of the band's, and album's, strengths.

The sheer joy of their music is undeniably persuasive, evoking the otherworldly brilliance of everything from Pet Sounds to The Soft Bulletin.

Taking disparate elements from their collective record collection, mashing them up, and spitting them out... the members of Silkworm nonetheless end up sounding like few other rock bands of their time while hardly sounding like a cover band revue.

Looper drops their bright playfulness for a sophisticated, darker counterpart which uses jazz, R&B, and trip-hop as its foundation.

Though Speedy J does pure techno as good as he did his earlier experimental productions, it's a shame he's gotten back to the kind of tracks that DJ Hyperactive could be knocking out in his sleep.

The Eminem Show is essentially a holding pattern, but it's a glorious one -- one that proves Eminem is the gold standard in pop music in 2002, delivering stylish, catchy, dense, funny, political music that rarely panders.

Cuts into raw indie rock with spells of country and folk, while allowing Brock to explore a varying scope of sounds.

A lounge lizard's idea of heaven.

Some listeners might suggest that an album this varied has an identity crisis, but with standout tracks as glorious as the Dylan covers and the Eno closer, Frantic is a fascinating addition to Bryan Ferry's accomplished discography.

It blends the stripped-down sounds of Pod and the Amps' Pacer into a collection of strangely intimate, feminine garage rock.

It's beautiful, weird, and difficult to love.

Heather Nova has ventured out on South, delving into the pop side for her own inventions. Fans who aren't accepting of such a move might be critical; new listeners might find South her easiest album.

He has created a record that might not be as wildly eclectic on the surface as Play, and it certainly lacks club-hits on the level of "Bodyrock" or "South Side," but it's a warm, enveloping, humanistic record with real emotional resonance, which surely is a noteworthy artistic step forward.

Just below the surface, all the quintessential Get up Kids qualities are there: melody, intelligence, and lyrical sincerity.

Vapor Trails does an amiable job of signaling the welcomed return of Rush.

So, it's essentially a harder-rocking version of the last album. But you know what? It doesn't matter because the band is at a peak.

One can't help but feel that this is still a transitional album in general, but at least they've overcome their Garbage fascination and seem to be delivering music more in tune with their attitude and style.

For the most part My Ride's Here is a misfire from an artist capable of much better work.

This balance of elements, along with Elf Power's ragged but insistent groove, make Creatures a study of harmonious contradiction and unlikely balance.

While the appealing rawness of their early material is occasionally missed here, the strides forward that the group makes on this album more than make up for it.

The melodies on Alice are easily the most direct Waits has written since Blue Valentine, but are more elegant than even those found on Foreign Affairs or Black Rider.

Thematically, this work -- with its references to German cabarets and nostalgia -- echoes Waits' other Wilson collaborative project, Black Rider. Musically, however, Blood Money is a far more elegant, stylish, and nuanced work than the earlier recording.

An overdone, unamusingly ironic '80s fetish dominates the first half of the album, dragging down tracks like "Molecules" and "Different Kind of Love" with slick synths and affected singing.

Transmission, while marginally stronger than the band's debut, forgets to bring along the same natural pop drive and offers more of the same well-honed faux iconic babble, and regularly stoops to the equivalent of a Love record with improper squelch control.

Plenty of fuzzed, struttin', propulsive guitar work on this disc to assault your ears.

While the artifact quality and live vibe of this music come as no surprise, the show band emphasis of Trey Anastasio suggests that this artist may be placing a little less faith in the voodoo of improvisation and more in the payoff guaranteed by musicians who can tear up the same charts night after night.

Dust is a stunning look into his exotic, sharp imagination and a vibrant effort for those who've watched him evolve.

In Our Gun has all the elements that made their debut so great, and then some.

It's difficult to imagine how Badly Drawn Boy could've improved on The Hour of Bewilderbeast any better than this astonishing work.

Outside of the Bacharach album, it's his best in a long time. But in order to know that, you will have to have dilligently listened to everything from Spike on -- and if you got off the bus around then, it's harder than ever to get back on.

As the program continues, it becomes clear that he has reinvented most of the tracks in pretty much the same way, and the limits of his low-key, almost whispery vocals can grow tiring.

Romantica charges out of the gate with a new vigor, brightness, and sensitivity that, in retrospect, hasn't really come together within one package for them since maybe Bewitched.

Stereo is the first Westerberg solo disc that captures the elusive feel and emotional resonance of his best Replacements tunes.

While their songs still maintain the loose intimacy that was apparent on their debut AM, the music has matured to reveal a complexity that is rare in pop music, yet showcased perfectly on Yankee Hotel Foxtrot.

This all flows well and is quite a good piece of mood music, yet there's no hiding that for all their political stances and past reputation, Cornershop doesn't really have all that much to say this time around, nor have they delivered more than a handful of songs to have all this stick.

The band's brash and passionate attitude is clearly defined and witnessed in the music of this indie release, keeping the best of indie post-rock alive and kicking.

On their stunning debut, the Richmond, VA, foursome can sound as crisp and ethereal as Portishead, as otherworldly as Tom Waits, and as atmospheric as Radiohead.

He's no Elliott Smith yet, but if he expands his songwriting and subject matter, he could be a future heir to the indie-wuss throne.

Armstrong layers on his string arrangements with alarming regularity, to the extent that each collaborator, other than Bono, has their contributions infringed upon or washed out.

A skillful synthesis of classic rock and modern sensibilities that's pretty irresistible.

If any one album can be said to pick up on the surreal funk explorations of latter-day Miles Davis, Uninvisible is it.

Instead of sounding like a refreshing change of pace, it's a muddled, aimless affair from an artist that's had too many middling efforts over the last decade.

Silver Lining is ultimately a showcase for exceptional singing and riveting backup work.

Imperial Teen is clearly evolving into a group of subtler, more nuanced songwriters.

A good, professional rock record, one that sells their sound as if it was as the most commercial imaginable, resulting in one of their most consistent albums.

Another 12 tracks of curiously beautiful but quite intense melancholy.

Like a long lost Fluid disc, Electric Sweat proffers primordial MC5 riffs with a healthy dose of soul as only four white guys in leather jackets with every Motown record in their collections could manage.

They're fresh and clean, delivering spiky cut riffs while lyrics are unpretentious about love and heartbreak.

An undeniably pleasant and ultimately rewarding, if not immediately accessible, listen.

It all blends together a little bit too much to be distinctive and, as such, it has a faint feel of product, a slow seduction record for the Timbaland-worshipping hipster set.

This is international music, not intended merely for Kinky's native Mexico. Actually, it's more intended for trendy music cultures such as those of Europe and the U.S. -- a sort of Spanish update for the early 2000s of the late-'90s electronica/rock sound associated with groups like Prodigy and Primal Scream.

Refreshingly simple and cleverly stupid, I Get Wet makes indoctrination fun again.

Though Variaciones Espectrales might be too noisy to work as background music for some listeners and too experimental for the dancefloor, it's another accomplished, fascinating slice of sound/beats exploration from this consistently pioneering artist.

Throughout this collection, Rye Coalition shamlessly worships at the altar of Kiss, Grand Funk Railroad, and Spinal Tap via weathered, punk-inspired chord progressions, muddy bass lines, lead-footed drum patterns, and hammer-handed guitar riffs that will shake, rattle, and roll hockey arenas until the end of time.

It's sporadically entertaining and intermittently interesting.

So, in a strange way, Loud is an extremely successful album for Maas: it rids him of the trance tag, has enough vocal dance-pop to win over even more admirers, and is so diverse that everyone will find at least one enjoyable track.

This French-Swiss duo pumps out retro-'80s-style disco beats and silly lyrics, creating a fun, goofy, ironic vibe that is sure to be a hit in Europe and perhaps in America.