Honestly, none of it makes a lick of sense, but unlike, say, the Beta Band -- whose entire shtick was that the parts of their music never fit into a coherent whole -- there's a shapeliness to Zootime that suggests the record was constructed from some inscrutable blueprint that's just naggingly out of reach.

Even if this is familiar ground, an album so tight in theme and feel is refreshing in an era where most lyricists invite anybody and everybody.

The key to the album's potency and freshness is its differences from In My Own Words.

Human the Death Dance may be his most personal effort, but it's also an incredibly well-built full-length -- even when it borrows from a handful of genres -- and it's arguably his best lyrical effort, undoubtedly his best production-wise.

Tio Bitar is Dungen's most realized album yet and should resonate with anyone who likes rock music at all.

As focused as it is ambitious, Boxeris riveting.

Mirrored is unlike any recording out there at the moment. It's loud, funny, and astonishingly sophisticated, and doesn't feel pretentious in the least.

Send Away the Tigers never seem heavy-handed, which is something that even their best albums often are. So, this isn't merely a return to form, then--it's also a welcome progression from a band that only a couple of albums back seemed stuck in a rut with no way out.

Snakes & Arrows is one of the tightest conceptual records the band has ever released.

With its fuller sound and relaxed flights of fancy, Icky Thump is a mature, but far from stodgy, album -- and, as is usually the case, it's just great fun to hear the band play.

Spellbinding.

There's a delicateness to Golden Pollen, in the double- and triple-tracked vocals, the soft instrumentation.

It's a Bit Complicated proves that Art Brut are masters of writing pop songs about loving pop songs passionately.

Anyone who has already decided that jazz is dead, that the great innovators have come and gone, needs to listen to the Bad Plus to be proven dead wrong.

While Erasure certainly didn't need the "return to form" album at this point in their career, they nailed it and brought better songwriting along for the ride.

Three consecutive Timbaland productions, including one suited for a black college marching band and another that effectively pulls the romantically co-dependent heartstrings, enhance the album rather than make it more scattered.

Another beautiful record that stands right alongside the group's best work.

Sometimes it's electronic music you can rock to, sometimes it's neo-disco tech-house you can sing with, but it's always the fringe of dance-pop at its peak put together in a razor-sharp package.

Even with the band, what comes through most clearly is Votolato's voice, which is better than ever here, rough and emotive, honest to a fault.

It takes time to make music as effortless and elegant as this, to construct songs this finely detailed.

Admirably random samples dug up from underground sources like '70s Italian prog-rockers Goblin, combined with a reckless abandon and an adherence to melodic hooks, makes Cross one of the most interesting electro-crossovers since Ratatat, and the guys in Justice do an excellent job building on Daft Punk's innovative foundation.

Time on Earth a haunting yet comforting affair that is quite unique in Neil Finn's body of work, yet functions as an oddly appropriate, utterly worthy, comeback as Crowded House.

Goodbye is striking and rewarding in its own way; it just might take a little more time to sink into the murky new agey abyss.

This is a remarkably mature and impressive debut from an artist who seems like he's just getting started and his best stuff lies ahead of him.

Desire is a taut and focused work that energizes, packed densely with typically Monch-like quotables that might take a couple listens to catch.

Super Taranta! is the culmination of superb musicianship, endless energy, and an inborn sense of fun and a dedication to progression and innovation, and if that's not something to celebrate and dance to, it's hard to know what is.

New Wave is crisp, direct, and sharp. It's clean, but not glossy; it's defiant; it's brash; it's heartfelt.

It is a fetching 40-minute album, with each song supplying its own set of penetrating hooks, ear-ticklingly sharp guitars, moody synthesizer gauze, and mobile rhythms.

The songs on the album complement each other, play off the other's strengths, and make the record very much an entity, instead of simply a collection of tracks, setting it off as an impressive step forward in their already commendable discography.

It finds that the guys don't just still have it, but they sound goddamn rejuvenated, bristling with electric energy and undeniable fervor.

It's an orchestral record for those who prefer the simplistic, a darker one for those who prefer theirs twee, love songs for the scorned and sad songs for the content, an engaging and alluring combination that makes Marry Me nearly irresistible, and one of the better indie pop albums that's come around for a long time.

In all, it's a winner, a solid, consistently crafted "new country" record that wears rock & roll proudly on its sleeve.

The bottom line is that The Horseshoe Curve becomes--perhaps unintentionally--one of the finest moments of Anastasio's post-Phish solo career. This one is absolutely essential not only for his fans, but for anyone interested in any of the above musics. A must.

The production is still huge and full, although audiophiles may be disturbed by the overdriven acoustic guitars on certain songs that give an unnerving sensation of blown speaker cones. It's a forgivable stylistic decision, and doesn't detract much from the overall solidarity of the disc.

Sheff has proven himself again and again to be a gifted wordsmith, and Stage Names features some of his finest parlor room romanticisms and slacker-poet observations to date.

Eisley's mix of old and new, and accessible and unexpected, makes their music utterly charming, and Combinations is a blend of bewitching contradictions.

Challengers is their biggest grower yet, a dense collection of carefully constructed pop and brain power pop.

The talent, both of Rock and his guests (which, besides El-P, also include Ron Sonic, John Darnielle from the Mountain Goats, Breezly Brewin', and Cage) is impressive, and makes None Shall Pass an album that deserves a lot of attention, both inside and outside the hip-hop world.

What impresses the most about Made of Bricks are her deft sketches of deteriorating relationships.

Like the best divorce albums, it offers sadness, pathos, and the electric thrill of great music forged in the crucible of pain.

"It's fine if we are by our side," Genders sings, which, despite the triteness of the statement, provides a nice ending to the record, lighter and breezier, balancing the concern with enjoyment, and making Good Arrows a very complete album indeed.

It makes for an utterly compelling, even obsessive listen.

Graduation is neither as bold nor as scattered as "The College Dropout," and it's neither as extroverted nor as sonically rich as "Late Registration." Kanye still makes up for his shortcomings as an MC and lyricist by remaining charmingly clumsy, frequently dealing nonsense through suspect rhyme schemes.

Proof of Youth is a pretty spectacular continuation of some of the most exciting, innovative sounds around.

Across the album, there is not much advancement production-wise, yet there is just enough contrast that it does not make like Treddin' on More Thin Ice.

Drastic Fantastic a rare beast: a pop album with a songwriter's heart, and one that works on both levels.

Historical Conquests is above all a fun record. It's got all of the heartache, acute observation, and crushing truth that fans are used to, but it never preaches without a wink and, most importantly, sounds as good blisteringly loud as it does drifting out of a clock radio in the garage.

It rivals "Dance Hall at Louse Point" for its willingness to challenge listeners, but it's far removed from "Uh Huh Her," which was arguably more listenable but a lot less remarkable. In fact, this may be Harvey's most undiluted album yet.

Not only did Moore record Trees Outside the Academy with some of his closest friends, but the album's good-natured sprawl is so appealing that it makes its listeners feel like friends, too

Smokey Rolls Down Thunder Canyon is many things--perhaps too many things, but its successes outnumber its failures, and it essentially solves the problems inherent in confining a freeform singer to time signatures and arrangements and rhythms imposed by outsiders.

The whole album is a barn rattler from top to bottom. Play this for anyone who thinks rock & roll is dead and gone. Heavy Trash again prove that theory dead wrong.

Boasting the best album-length production of the year, will.i.am's Songs About Girls is a tour de force of next-generation contemporary R&B.

Even in this mellowed state, Gira's still never going to be a majority taste, but Angels of Light come up with a thoroughly respectable and diversely arranged vehicles for his vision on We Are Him, traipsing through an array of interesting moods without diluting the leader's offbeat visions.

It's as gorgeous a collection as "Bare," and pop music should be so lucky as to have more of this kind of thing out in the world.

Our Ill Wills is an impressive, depressive album that could scare away all but their hardiest fans in one 48-minute swoop.

Some fans will miss Múm's wispier, bygone days, but those willing to give the band a chance to change and grow will welcome the chance to get to know them all over again.

Ultimately, The World Has Made Me the Man of My Dreams, with its irony, sincerity, seeming contradiction, and elliptical paradox, is the most expansive, complex record yet released by this always provocative artist.

Musically it's imaginative, fresh, full of a more studied elegance and a leaner kind of pomp that we heard during her Geffen years.

Good Bad Not Evil isn't a major leap forward for the Black Lips, but it shows their sound is slowly but surely evolving, and they still rock with a nasty enthusiasm that's bold and compelling; this is quality stuff for your next black light party.

Last Light is an altogether different album from what we've heard before, as Matt Pond has rarely put himself in such close contact with his idols. Nevertheless, it's a leap forward for an artist who rarely, if ever, heads in the wrong direction.

The Markers strip away the most abrasive parts of their previous work, add just the right amount of melodies and structure, and somehow maintain the free-flowing, experimental heart of their music. It's not much of a stretch to say that the results are something of a revelation.

It's thoughtful and fun and sophisticated, utterly alluring, another fantastic success by Zach Condon.

Widow City's major accomplishment is how it captures the band's live power and sheds some of their mannered studio sound. It rocks hard, and often.

Rimes illustrates her range as a singer along with some true strength as a writer, and they help make Family a canny blend of the commercial and the confessional--an album that feels heartfelt, yet is as accessible and enjoyable as her best records.

Fans of "Blackberry Way"-era Move, Berlin-era Bowie, late-period Of Montreal, and the Danielson Famile will eat this up like the candy it is.

A sophisticated, mature, and altogether superior follow-up.

On North Star Deserter, the musicians working with Vic Chesnutt serve as collaborators rather than simple accompanists, and they've truly brought out the best in one another; this is powerful, adventurous music that's as challenging as it is beautiful, and ranks with Chesnutt's finest work to date.

Jourgensen's covers are usually all-party time, but this album holds no hope for and finds no joy in America and expresses it brilliantly.

Make Sure They See My Face, is a much more cohesive record, one that may have an easier time making it onto MTV and mainstream radio.

This doesn't make for an album that holds together thematically the way other latter-day Neil albums do, but its mess is endearing.

More immediately accessible and warm than "Cuckooland," more ambitious than "Shleep," Comicopera, in three acts, is the end result of Robert Wyatt looking around and examining the craziness and wild unpredictability in real life in 2007.

Sound and feel do mean a lot, but country records really survive on the strength of their songs, and the remarkable thing about Carnival Ride is that it's stronger song for song than Some Hearts, some of this due to Carrie herself, who bears four songwriting credits here, often in conjunction with some permutation of Steve McEwan and Hillary Lindsey, who pen a bunch of other tunes here.

It's an ambitious egotistical solo release, and one with the chops to pull it all off. The well placed spaces and lithe textural moments of delicate instrumental engagement and interlude prevent Elect the Dead from going by in a blur.

Canada's greatest contribution to Americana since Blue Rodeo have been consistently topping themselves with each new album, and their sixth, New Seasons, is another triumph.

La Cucaracha is the sound of Ween cutting loose, reveling in the lower budget and expectations an indie label brings, and playing music that simply sounds good.

Invitation Songs is a welcome, and welcoming, debut.

What seems to be an unlikely pairing in the duo of former -- and future apparently--Led Zeppelin vocalist Robert Plant and bluegrass superstar Alison Krauss is actually one of the most effortless-sounding pairings in modern popular music.

That's the magic and power of Sharon Jones & the Dap-Kings: their ability to convey passion and pain, regret and celebration, found in the arrangements and the tail ends of notes, in the rhythms and phrasing, and it is exactly that which makes 100 Days, 100 Nights such an excellent release.

It's hard to call an album this spirited and alive irrelevant.

The album is savvier still, crafted to evoke the spirit and feel of the Eagles' biggest hits.

These songs sound like they were written as she was fed chocolate-dipped strawberries while sprawled out on a bed cloaked with rose petals.

Crucially, all these nods to Blanche's influences end up enhancing the band's uniqueness; rooted equally in the traditional and more experimental sides of Americana, country, and rock, Little Amber Bottles expands what a Blanche album can be, and it's a joy to hear.

This is a very good Jay-Z album. He is, for the most part, doing what he has done before: what he does best.

Smoke never sounds dated or rehashed--instead, it's a fresh, consistently creative, and consistently listenable debut.

Winehouse's record has the feeling of being allowed to grow on its own--without being meddled with and fussed over.

As on their first two classic full-lengths, Thomas Bangalter and Guy-Manuel de Homem-Christo display excellent crowd control, pacing the record well, spacing the hits, and building the mood like the good crowd-pleasers they are.

These eight songs may not be able to be covered by anybody else, but they are wonderfully constructed, beautifully textured, and exquisitely played.

While not all of the remixes hit these heights, overall it's a fun set, and a good complement to the eclecticism of D-Sides' first disc.

With Intoxication, Shaggy has once again found that perfect balance of slick and streetwise, and added career-defining single number three as the cherry on top.

Carnival, Vol. 2 strives to give the immigration problem a face, turning those thousands of marchers seen on the news into a thousand personal stories of struggle and hope. It does so while pulsating with life and displaying an unabashed love of music that's rich, daring, and delightful.

So while the performance isn't perfect, particularly toward the end of the show (where, after two hours of performing swing tunes and jazz standards, Wainwright is understandably low on steam), it's still nice to hear the singer in his element, crooning about dinging trolleys and zinging heartstrings with flamboyancy that only he can muster.

Even with the amount of expectation-lowering context heavy on the mind, Free at Last sounds like a very strong follow-up.

Whether they love it or hate it. It is a departure from previous releases and it does focus on melody and guitars and strings, but it is also lush and well-crafted and smart and addictive.

She has been able to do what few others before her have: cater to her crossover audience without losing the essence of what she really is and where she came from, and so all of Growing Pains, from its upbeat beginning to its reflective, personal ending (though the last track, 'Come to Me [Peace]' is the only real miss on the entire album), doesn't seem forced or calculated.

If musical adventurousness and short attention spans are viewed as positive attributes, then these 13 short songs offer ample rewards.

Angels of Destruction! is an album that brims with joy, rage, and adventure, and deserves your attention.

Nimol's vocals are as beguiling as ever, Ethan Holtzman's Farfisa organ still swirls, Zac Holtzman's guitars still chime and chunk, and Paul Dreux Smith's drums clang happily along.

It's packed with stuff, but there's enough space here, and wonderfully warm atmospheres, to bring the listener right into the deeper sonic dimensions that Black Mountain is trying to create.