Helpfully rounds up 18 of these guest appearances, including a cut by the Jones-fronted country cabaret outfit the Little Willies, and what impresses is the range of collaborators and the consistency of the music.

The Tallest Man on Earth, keeps it sparse with a summertime EP of fingerpicked acoustic guitar and vocals, written on the road just after the release of The Wild Hunt.

They're playing at full strength, with the rhythm section pumping hard on the opening title track and the three that follow it.

Uptight types who want him to save hip-hop will hate on this one, but this ain't nuthin' but a party y'all, and a fun one at that.

Most of these songs are not quite up to Hart's usual caliber. His inherent charms are hard to deny; they just feel slightly threadbare this time out.

Olympia doesn't feel fussy; it's unruffled and casually elegant, its pleasing familiarity reflecting the persistence of an old master honing his craft.

A fitting final studio effort.

Things start to slow down toward the end of Progress, when Mark Owen, Howard Donald, Jason Orange, and Barlow get their own track to write--each revert to type, Barlow stultifyingly so on the sticky "Eight Letters"--but for seven tracks, Progress is the hippest and best music Take That has ever made.

Winner Stays On will undoubtedly continue their stratospheric rise from the ghetto to the mainstream, but despite flashes of ingenuity, it's a strangely formulaic and over-familiar listen.

The big difference on this two-disc set, however, is the occasional, recognizable drum pattern, mostly snare strikes or cymbal crashes, that give the rest of the music a wider dynamic range.

He may have lost the plot for a bit, but Page is back and his pop sensibility remains sarcastically, unsparingly intact.

Tidelands takes the Moondoggies in some glorious and unexpected directions, and you'd have to go back to Wilco's Being There to witness a group upping the ante on the potential of their second album with this much success.

DIRTY BABY is a singular accomplishment, presented in a fashion that demands more of the listener's attention but buy pays off handsomely.

Silver is the work of a band with a very clear vision and the skills to make it work like a dream.

Fantastic Explanations (And Similar Situations) makes something fresh and powerful from Novak's influences, and if the ingredients to this cocktail are pretty simple to figure out, that doesn't mean it's not strong enough to knock you out.

Heard as a whole, this set doesn't sound nostalgic but revelatory, for the simple fact that its slow, deliberately restrained brutality is not only engaging, but hypnotic, doom-laden, serpentine, even beautiful.

Like their Chicago contemporaries the Handsome Family, Cotton Jones feels a kinship to the country-folk tradition, but is not bound to it, and with each new collection of songs, they add another couple of lines to the genre's weathered face.

Flockaveli has enough hooks and attitude to keep those bottles poppin' all night long, and whether or not you remember any of it the next day, it does serve its purpose.

Valentine's lyrics are delivered with a rigorousness that seems like it's meant to assure the listener that the only thing the Electric Six take seriously is having fun. It feels good to know that someone out there is fighting for our right to party.

Blurry Blue Mountain is an album full of heart, soul, and wit, and this music confirms that no one does quite what Howe Gelb can do with such remarkably innate grace and feel; Gelb's songs find pretty remarkable things in the odd details of simple lives, and there some very real magic to be found in the elegant force of Blurry Blue Mountain.

Bittersweet songs like "Grey Clouds" and "What I Lose" are more subdued than prior work, but ultimately The Inevitable Past is a solid addition to the discography of an indie rock fixture.

More moody, modern R&B that sounds like nothing else and reveals remarkable depth (there's even a little well-placed twang and some violin), Authenticity is neither an everyday nor an every-day album, unless playing it is necessary for the sake of convalescence.

As Darnielle's first release on his new label, Merge, opening a new chapter in his career, Undercard may not be a total knockout, but it's an eminently worthy diversion from (or preface to) the main event.

While producer Dave Cobb's arrangements don't self-consciously re-create every element of the musical eras the sisters dig into, they don't add any superfluous modernizations either, keeping the sonic framework just as timeless-sounding as the Secret Sisters' style itself.

Regardless of the tack she takes, Nes' music has the vulnerable freshness of winter thawing into spring--particularly on the lovely album-closer "Ruby Red"--and Opticks puts her in the very sweet spot between innocence and expertise.

It's an excellent way for Jenkinson to branch out and try something different--his playing and programming is definitely up to his high standard--but aside from the sweet retro vibes, it's hardly a classic.

Return of the Century is their most impressive record and shows that they were able to turn personal and professional turmoil into a work with great artistic merit.

Given Jones' legendary stature and reputation for taste, this set feels unnecessary at best, and downright cynical at worst.