Aw C'Mon / No You C'Mon, the latest in Lambchop's long and meaty lineage, could loosely be described as a double-concept LP. Originally conceived when vocalist Kurt Wagner decided to write a song a day for a few months, it was then stretched further when the band was asked to write a soundtrack for a 1927 silent movie. The end result is a double LP that, consciously or not, adequately captures the diverse nature of this endlessly creative group. Wagner's distinctive voice is a constant (as are his lyrics, which range joyously from the sentimental to the sarcastic) but the background sounds are a constantly shifting tapestry, all rich strings and insouciant strums one minute, brooding melodies and sinister moods the next. If there's any band out there that seem to live for their work it's Lambchop. And while they don't necessarily get better with every album, they do retain a certain freshness and sense of innovation, traits that many of their peers could do with adopting. -Paul Sullivan.

Artists like Iris DeMent aren't supposed to exist anymore in this cynical world. Singing unironically about family, forgiveness, and other real-life mysteries, DeMent is accompanied on this great debut by little more than acoustic guitar, upright bass, piano, and an occasional fiddle. But the songs (especially the bittersweet "Our Town" and the grand dreams of "Mama's Opry") are more than smart and honest enough to bear standing so naked. And her singing-highlighting a sweet Ozark twang-is that rarest of gifts: a wise, friendly voice that can break your heart even as it's making it swell with a reason to love again. -David Cantwell.

This long-awaited, highly anticipated follow-up to 1987's much-loved initial Trio offering doesn't disappoint. On Trio II, Emmylou Harris, Linda Ronstadt and Dolly Parton weave a spell that is equal parts traditional and contemporary, country and folk, vision and voice. It's their seamless musical blend of these counterpoints-as in the sweet, sweeping harmonies on Neil Young's "After the Gold Rush" or the instrumentally spare acoustic presentation of the Carter Family's "Lover's Return"-that makes these songs such treasures. When individual voices soar and fuse together to create distinct new voices, when instinct leads the way for artistry to follow, the result is perfect harmony, pure magic. -Alexandra Russell.

With a touch of Robyn Hitchcock in his vocal timbre, a smidgen of Steve Earle in his narratives and instrumental writing and a heap of Gram Parsons in the fullness of his overall sound and structure, Ryan Adams steps well above Whiskeytown with Heartbreaker, his solo debut. By turns raucous, wistful, raspy and simply sweet, Adams makes the most of a top-shelf acoustic band, including Gillian Welch and David Rawlings and even a guest spot from Emmylou Harris on the tenderly yearning "Oh My Sweet Caroline". There is little dependence on the usual alt-country twang and a far more rounded sense of textures here (the multiple vocal tracks on "Amy", for example, sound Beatles-esque), with glockenspiel, organ and more signalling a sonic field of extensive depth. His spare guitar and stretched-thin vocal delivery alternate smartly with a bigger-shouldered guitar and throaty voice, never leaving behind a band conception straight out of Parsons's oeuvre. Adams signals occupancy of the post-alt country vanguard-if there is such a thing. -Andy Bartlett.

Will Oldham, the artist formerly known as Palace, has never been concerned with creating pop music. Oldham's forte, murder ballads, anti-spirituals, dead-sea chanteys, and lost-love songs, has always been "difficult", forcing the listener to confront some rather unseemly topics. Say this about Oldham, however, despite his quirks (cracking vocals, shambolic instrumentation, baroque language), at its best, his music is bracing and, often, very beautiful. That said, I See a Darkness, his second LP since abandoning the Palace moniker, is the most accessible, gorgeous, and moving record of his career. Instead of the gothic, low-fi country feel of many of his projects, Darkness comes off sounding like an early-1970s Neil Young album, comprised of a stately piano backbone and fleshed out by loose-fitting guitar strums. Stylistically, Oldham mixes things up on Darkness and his full band sounds, for once, well practiced and well recorded. Sure, Oldham is still singing about the blackness of his soul, but in between-in small bursting moments-there are bits of light, hope, and a suggestion that maybe-just maybe-there may be redemption through love. That message, presented in these carefully constructed, gently offered songs, pushes this recording beyond the usual, curious appeal of Oldham and into an entirely new realm of greatness. -S. Duda.

One of the more creative, successful tribute albums, A Vision Shared was originally released to coincide with a PBS program that premiered in 1988. Packing some serious heavyweights onto one CD, the record features covers of Guthrie and Leadbelly tunes by, among others, Little Richard, Brian Wilson, Bob Dylan, Bruce Springsteen, Sweet Honey in the Rock, and U2. The 14 tracks consist of mostly well known tunes, and it's fascinating to hear what the artists have done to them. Particularly exciting is a supercharged version of Leadbelly's "Rock Island Line" by Little Richard with Fishbone and U2's take on Guthrie's "Jesus Christ. " -Ian Landau.

Brian Wilson would be proud; Phil Spector too, and maybe even John Lennon would have raised the ghost of a smile. For Summerteeth is an album that wears its influences openly, yet somehow contrives to make them all sound new-minted. While fellow Uncle Tupelo alumnus Jay Farrar continues to stake out the centre ground of the alt. country scene with Son Volt, Jeff Tweedy and his Wilco cohorts have moved into altogether more eclectic territory. Tweedy's touching lyrical vignettes have the whiff of 3am whisky and cigarettes about them-"The ashtray says / You were up all night"-the time of night when disturbing thoughts surface without warning (the anti-climax of "She's A Jar" turns the whole song on its head in one devastating line). As ever, the band are a chameleon bunch, alternately providing chugging wall-of-sound riffs or sparse, fractured instrumental commentaries, all the while retaining their authentic mid-west accent (even when the production casts them in the role of a mid-60s psychedelic outfit). Occasionally erratic, sometimes frustrating, Wilco have never sounded more focused. -Mark Walker.

It sounds as if it were recorded in the back of a barn or on the front porch of a farm in Kentucky with a single microphone to simulate the feel of an old Folkways field recording. The ensemble cast mixes and matches banjos and poorly strummed acoustic guitars with the occasional synthesizer piercing through the mix. The songs have an odd old-world fascination about them ("Riding," "I Had a Good Father and Mother," "I Tried to Stay Healthy For You") and the singer's delivery is untutored by pitch. -Rob O'Connor.

Though they recorded their third album in an industrial area in Vancouver (as opposed to the sunny California they've been obsessed with since they started out), The Thrills-fans will be pleased to know-have not lost their inherently sunny dispositions. Produced by Tony Hoffer (who helmed their debut), this latest outing sees the band engage with that most American of themes - yep, the teenager. The quartet's trademark vocal harmonies, recognisable instrumentation and light, catchy melodies are rolled out in fine style on opening track "The Midnight Choir," continuing apace on tunes like the jaunty "This Year", the solid "Nothing Changes 'Round Here" and the jangling "Restaurant". Infused with the air of nostalgia that the title suggests, there's also some welcome edginess. The band keep to their formula of short, 3 1/2 minute songs too-a good idea given the grating potential of Conor Deasy's croaky vocals, which can sometimes stretch the listener to breaking point. Teenager is occasionally bogged down by a tendency to slip into samey territory, but the slow-burn allure of songs like the title track and "Should Have Know Better" make this something of a return to form for Dublin's most American band. -Paul Sullivan.

Never settling for one musical style, always searching for new ways to combine their jazz, desert-rock, Mariachi and dub influences, Tucson outfit Calexico have taken joyous quantum leaps, jumping from low-key, marmalade-coloured vignettes (their debut album Spoke) to more vivid palettes on LPs such as Hot Rail. Garden Ruins represents the band's most populist statement yet. Assembled during and after their superlative collaboration with Iron & Wine (In The Reins) and a high profile tour with Wilco, the project connects with a wider musical picture-that of the classic American songbook. The band avoid conjuring the busual Southwestern vistas in favour of more direct (and less exotic) styles like pop, rock and folk. It could have all been so terrible but in fact it's one of the best decisions the band ever made: from the easy-going lope of "Lucky Dime" to the bombastic thrusts of "Letter To Bowie Knife" and "All Systems Red", Garden Ruin is hugely palatable (not to mention surprisingly political), marking yet another zenith for Tucson's most sonically nomadic sons. -Paul Sullivan.

With Jerusalem, Steve Earle stops pining for ghosts and gruffly makes his own claim to the agit-folk crown. (Remember how on 1997's El Corazón, he wished for the return of Woody Guthrie to a world sorely lacking voices of righteous dissent?) The controversial "John Walker's Blues" drew attention to Jerusalem and provoked the ire of many who misunderstood it, but it's only one of many topical tunes on a disc that issues a kind of call to arms: over the distorted guitars and garbage-bin drums of "Amerika v. 6. 0" and in the spare and creepy satire "Conspiracy Theory", Earle rallies listeners to resist the corrosion of culture by consumerism, xenophobia and apathy. And as often with Earle's songs, several tracks offer sympathetic portrayals of folks on the margins: a Mexican migrant writes a letter home as organ chirps and guitars blaze through "What's a Simple Man to Do?" and in "The Truth" Earle's fuzzed-out drawl depicts life behind bars. Although nearly every moment of this ambitious album is laden with meaning, there's room enough for simple beauty-like the velvet voice of Emmylou Harris on "I Remember You"-and, more importantly, hope. "I believe there'll come a day," Earle affirms in the closing track, "when the lion and the lamb will lie down in peace together in Jerusalem. " -Anders Smith Lindall.