The set is essential to any fan, and these records are near-perfect documents of the roots of indie rock and D.I.Y. culture that started growing in the unheard music and handmade expressions of the early '90s.

Toujours is an album of true originality, executed with humor, warmth, and spark, and captivating from beginning to end.

With more memorable tracks and a slightly more accessible feel, the album is less distracted and more tuneful than before without losing any of the freewheeling spirit that made his songs and persona so attractive in the first place.

Miles at the Fillmore - Miles Davis 1970: The Bootleg Series, Vol. 3 is an essential addition to the Davis canon.

The 14 songs of Under Color of Official Right see an already incredible band moving even further forward in their development, approaching the same instant classic standards of their best contemporaries and turning in their most intricate work so far.

As displayed on I Am the Last of All the Field That Fell: A Channel, it's also simultaneously holistic, maddening, erotic, bleak, bright, and most of all, visionary.

While it remains almost impossible to dissociate Kelis and early collaborators the Neptunes, it's more difficult imagining a better creative alliance--at this point in her career, at least--than the one that shines here.

Fear of Men come all that much closer to the mastery of their uniquely conflicted perspective on pop music with Loom, offering a set of songs as effortlessly enjoyable as they are smart, as inspired as they are hopeless.

The loving layers of static, submerged guitar progressions, and effortless meshes of naturalistic themes and glitchy processing all play into a language of sound distinct to Fennesz and reaching some of their clearest articulations here.

Floor are that rare band that have managed to channel a decade's worth of personal and artistic growth into evolving their sound while somehow making the whole thing feel as though it could've been released the year after their landmark debut, making Oblation an album one that not only lives up to the band's legacy, but is a meaningful contribution to it.

It's an oddly nourishing album that's as big a step forward for tUnE-yArDs as W H O K I L L was from Bird-Brains.

Dave (of De La Soul) co-wrote "Mirror," as well as one of the other darker highlights, "Killing Me," a slowly swaying kiss-off in which Nagano seethes, "I'll take my rocket ship and get the hell outta this/Nothin' that I'm gon' miss." That song, along with the satisfying closer "Let Go," was co-produced by Robin Hannibal (Quadron, Rhye). Subtract those contributions and this would still be the group's most accomplished work.

Toth's gift for songwriting gives emotional resonance to the album's softly lit, somewhat dazed ambience, and the result is one of the more interesting chapters of Wooden Wand's always twisting oeuvre.

While Young Widows might not be as loud as they used to be, it's possible that the band's sound is as heavy, or heavier, than it has ever been, making Easy Pain the band's moodiest and most engaging work to date.

Holland not only delivers her most intuitively crafted and realized collection to date, but she expands the boundaries and possibilities for American roots music in the process.

A U R O R A is dark, dreadful, and dramatic; it is also a masterpiece.

Even at its most wounded and immediate, the cavernous "Riverbed" and the spooky yet oddly comforting "Passions," there is a rich vein of humanity that remains tapped into.

The band beautifully marries its dense and intricate compositions with Abraham's sledgehammer vocals to create something that feels like the next evolution of the genre.

Perhaps Platinum would've benefitted from a tighter construction, but its mess and lopsided sequencing wind up appealing: at its heart, this is a classic double-album where the misses enhance the home runs and, eventually, are endearing on their own terms.

Emma Jean even stands out from its excellent predecessors in performance, arrangement, production, and inspiration.

rouble & Love is unlike any other "heartbreak and healing" album; its hard-won, experiential, Buddhist-like wisdom borders on the profound.

They're more infatuated with Neu! and Kraftwerk or Public Image Ltd, but these jagged, difficult sounds are filtered through the trio's now instinctual arena-filling gestures and that tension is what gives Futurology a resonant richness.

This is, no doubt, one of the most flagrantly lecherous commercial R&B albums of its time. It also has sharp hooks and slick productions to spare.

On The Voyager, Lewis' characters live for today without ever thinking that the world might pass them by, and having her music flow so smooth and easy, she illustrates how easy it is to get sucked into that alluring stasis.

Luluc's attention to detail and careful songcraft are apparent yet the music slides comfortably by, revealing its true depth with repeated listens.

If anything, Freeman is a tighter record than McCartney--it's not homemade, it's all complete songs--but there's no denying it shares the same spirit; that it is the sound of breaking dawn of a new day.

Another Martin masterstroke.

This set is a massive leap forward, not only in terms of style but also in its instrumental and performance acumen; it is nearly unlimited in its creativity.