After OK Computer, Radiohead could’ve easily churned out a clone—Thom Yorke certainly doesn’t want for angst. But instead, they chose to be bold, weaving together sprawling paeans to confusion like “Everything in its Right Place,” “The National Anthem,” “How to Disappear Completely,” “In Limbo,” and “Idioteque” into an album that reached, like none other this century, for the future of rock music.

2009’s rebuttal to Pet Sounds. So beautiful and accomplished an album is this that no words beyond those would do its dense galvanizing grandeur justice. Simply epic—doubtless Animal Collective’s breakthrough, coming after a string of three accomplished but polarizing dalliances with the avant-garde. “In the Flowers,” “My Girls,” “Summertime Clothes,” “Bluish,” “Daily Routine,” “Brother Sport.”

It was uncertain before the release of their self-titled debut whether the gale of hype in their wake was blessing or curse—and for about the first 20 seconds, one begins to think it’s the latter. And then comes bursting forth a roulade of sunny strums and layered vocals that channel Elliott Smith and Brian Wilson in equal measure. “Ragged Wood,” “He Doesn’t Know Why,” “Protector,” “Oliver James.”

Drawing on a dizzying number of influences often thought to be contradictory, defying the sacred dictate of indie-dom that insists on the synonymity of ‘popular’ and ‘insipid,’ and threading together the whole of human poverty, from slum to shanty town, M.I.A. writes music that is electrifying, inspiring and, above all, fun. What “Arular” hinted at “Kala” delivers in every single track.

In Rainbows is to Radiohead what Merriweather Post Pavilion is to Animal Collective—the ‘accessible’ album. Every critic has noted as much—but they fail to mention that beneath the veneer of accessibility lies an achingly beautiful record that bubbles with a haunting immediacy that does not let down. In Rainbows completes the great triumvirate begun by The Bends and OK Computer.

Spoon are to rock-n'-roll what Beckett was to high modernism--both manage to strip their work down to the bare essentials, and then wring from that all they possibly can, spinning off twelve undeniably catchy tracks. See “Small Stakes,” “The Way We Get By,” “Stay Don't Go,” “Jonathan Fisk,” “Paper Tiger,” “Back to the Life” and “Vittorio E.”

Captures with inspired instrumentalism and anthemic yet delirious vocals a focused snapshot of the complete blur that was 2008—a tumultuous year in a Through-the-Looking-Glass-like world that came to a head with a historic election and a groundswell of hope—which could just as quickly be applied to this album. And in “Golden Age,” they seem to hint at bright lights beyond the dark horizon of now.

The very apex, at least so far, of Grizzly Bear's short career—and very nearly of music in the new millennium—this album is a consummation of all of their initial promise. With sluggish but beautiful balladry that often slips into high-octave psychedelia, the Brooklyn outfit craft one the finest, most gratifying record of the decade. “While You Wait for the Others,” “Foreground,” “Ready, Able.”

It’s a testament to the White Stripes’ sheer ubiquity this past decade that Jack White should have had such a big hand in the making of one of the greatest country records not just of the past decade, but of all time. This album pulses with a youthful energy not felt since her early-seventies heyday, with White often joining Lynn in touching duets. See “Portland, Oregon.”