Wade through a couple of outtake-sounding openers that consist mainly of mechanical strumming on an acoustic 12-string and Kozelek's duo-toned vocals and you'll be rewarded with some of the his most fully realized songs to date.

At the risk of once again alienating fans--as well as purists who may consider this treading on sacred ground--Moby has taken another set of disparate influences and "translated" them into a futuristic language that's all his own.

While political manifestos are never something attractively wedded to song, Jones keeps humanity on the record, mostly with supportive grooves and her tantalizing way with twisting a note.

Sonic Youth sound like their cover band in comparison.

The bleakness at the core of Blood Money won't make it a first choice for a late-night spin, but it's manna for the artist's fans.

There are better storytellers, there are better battle rappers, there are undoubtedly rhymers with more on their minds. But there isn't a better MC around, if you're talking about the art of sheer mic domination.

The perfect combination of restrained production and sparkling tunes.

Gibbons is a charismatic presence, her golden howl and misery-inflected tone recalling a cross between Billie Holiday and a demented Edith Piaf.

While their hitmaking formula is responsible for countless success stories, the talent, smarts, and overall quality of this album prove the Neptunes are infinitely more interesting than most of their clients.

He's got the beat rate up and lots of faux funk happening.

An artist this gifted uses his skills to make music, not cling to style. While the familiar 808s and 909s of techno are rife on Unreasonable Behaviour, the music covers breakbeat, jazz, techno, beat noir, and even hints at Brazilian rhythms.

If it isn't quite the debut that new soul touchstones like D'Angelo's Brown Sugar and Erykah Badu's Baduizm were, it's certainly far more ambitious...

With an elastic talent--lyrically witty, vocally gifted, compositionally unusual--and a vague hyperactivity that keeps all the beach balls in the air simultaneously, Wainwright likes nothing more than trying on playful exteriors to match his churning insides.

Offering musical redemption for the New South's old hang-ups, Deliverance delivers.

Meshell's best when making the political personal--as she does on the blistering, explicit ballad "Trust"--instead of the other way around.

She's probably an EP artist at heart. Or someone for whom the 20-minute sides of vinyl would discipline everything perfectly. So slice the CD in half and enjoy.

Anyone hoping that this reunion with his old band would mean Springsteen's found his focus and was ready to rededicate himself to the freewheelin' spunk of his "classic" period will surely be disappointed with The Rising.

Basement Jaxx do this so much better than anyone else, including Daft Punk, that you root for their mad programed sounds and unknown cast of determined singers. It's totally daft disco, sexy and sweaty, stupid and stupendous. This is pop.

Beautiful, sparkling folk-pop reminiscent of Velvet Underground's Loaded era, but with distinctive swooning melodies.

Recall[s] both Fugazi's punk slam and early Santana's psychedelic sheen.

Using sparse arrangements, usually just a few programmed instruments and her feathery voice, Minekawa succeeds in creating lush songs rife with detail, melody, and mystery.

Point is in another zone altogether, establishing Cornelius as one of the most creative pop musicians around.

Another batch of tunes that entwine gorgeous, intricate arrangements with the dark, intoxicating side of our libidos.

[Her songs are] articulate and bright, enlivened by pithy metaphors and images that suggest a well-rounded English major with a sensitive side.

As good overall as the tracks here are, that bit about familiarity breeding contempt rings true.

Weightlifting is stellar TCS, expressing everything great about the band.

Accomplished and occasionally great as this album is, Endtroducing still casts the biggest shadow on it of all.

There's also a heady melodicism that suggests the theatrical firepower of Roxy Music, a droning tonality where big ambiance sets up.