The 40 Best Albums of 2005

40. Against Me!, Searching for a Former Clarity (Fat Wreck Chords)
They've been the flailing heroes of anarchist squat brats and the bemused objects of groping-for-cool major-label suitors, and frankly, neither relationship turned out particularly well. So on their third full-length, America's most convincingly strident punk band bash and confess from an unsettled middle ground, pissed about war, politics, phoned-in entertainment, and their own inability to do much about any of it. Still, they sweat buckets of sing-along sincerity, and never stop testifying, as if every word is a last call for forgiveness. C.A.

39. Wolf Parade, Apologies to the Queen Mary (Sub Pop)
One song's motto is "I'm not in love with the modern world," which explains why these Canucks' debut full-length sounds like it was recorded on a Dictaphone. Yet for indie rock that's obsessed with history (making it, being doomed to repeat it), that decayed-reel production feels right. Like Arcade Fire, Wolf Parade want to escape the sins of their fathers, both the biological and the Joseph Campbell kind. So they pledge to create a new generation of sons and daughters -- a great excuse for a one-night stand. M.E.M.

38. Art Brut, Bang Bang Rock & Roll (Fierce Panda)
Eddie Argos' dry monotone could be a speech impediment that keeps him from his true calling: singing earnestly about baby lambs, rainbows, and respecting your feelings. But we suspect it's irony for a post-Pulp world in which all sarcasm is read straight. Perhaps Argos will write a song as universal as "Happy Birthday"; maybe he does want to hang with Axl Rose. Which makes this mock rock kinda sweet -- and also so funny you'd drink Argos' Hennessey just to see if he can make it shoot out your nose. M.E.M.

37. Young Jeezy, Let's Get It: Thug Motivation 101 (Def Jam)
Responsible for '05's must-have fashion -- a snowman T-shirt -- Atlanta's Young Jeezy also restored the drug-dealer narrative to a hallowed position in the annals of rap. Let's Get It is grimy, anthemic, and full of self-aware bluster. Impending fame doesn't impress Jeezy; no time in recent memory has a major-label debut sounded so audaciously like the work of a grizzled veteran. With a hoarse voice like he's been up working the block all night, he makes even the most mundane ad libs sound like threats. J.D.C.

36. Animal Collective, Feels (Fat Cat)
They've got mad Brooklyn cred, the year's most emo album name, and an iffy reputation as freak folkers -- and psych noodlers, and bangers of pots and pans. But on this breakthrough, alt-universe-pop disc, they're just four guys determined to soundtrack children's daydreams, feverishly strumming strangely tuned guitars, forming drum circles, and making the kind of mouth noises you'd hear at a pool party: falsetto singsong, blithe do-do-dos, war-play whoops. Drop your guard, and it'll sound something like wisdom. N.C.

35. Sleater-Kinney, The Woods (Sub Pop)
Classic-rock-dude swagger reclaimed with feminine confidence, marked by a Pacific Northwest stamp that entwines rock'n'roll history with manifest destiny. After six signature-sound albums, Sleater-Kinney step outside their usual discomfort zone to join forces with producer Dave Fridmann and deliver their hardest, broadest songs yet. Draped in hefty guitars, SK's fractured punk bites psych bombast while acerbic feminist indictments ride in tandem with Dylan-echoing harmonicas, and leggy love anthems stomp on blues-rock sangfroid. Plant, Page, and Bonham: Meet Tucker, Brownstein, and Weiss. J.S.

34. Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, Clap Your Hands Say Yeah (Self-released)
A business model for the blog age. To double their hometown crowd, 2005's buzziest indie-rock act split their operations between Philly and Brooklyn; to maximize profits, they self-released their work -- just like the bloggers who adored them. Retrofitting Talking Heads' nerd funk with Fisher Price xylophones wasn't a bad idea, either. CYHSY is proof that postcollegiate ennui can move bony scenester ass. And that mindset's propelled by drummer Sean Greenhalgh, who probably wears his high hat to church. M.W.

33. Amadou & Mariam, Dimanche a Bamako (Nonesuch)
Blind, bluesy Malian couple teams with cosmopolitan Europop radical Manu Chao for fun and profit -- in Paris, mais oui. Yet beneath this blithe exotica stir the tremors of culture clash. Traditional balafon and djembe musical styles elbow for space amid Chao's found sounds. Keening voices cling to West African roots against the drift of Chao's skittish lite-reggae lilt. A painful immediacy settles upon otherwise simplistic bromides of peace and love. Globalization puts on a happy face -- but can't help anxiously biting its lower lip. K.H.

32. Caps & Jones, Moving in Stereo (Self-released)
Just when you thought you'd withstood your last mash-up, two NYU grads flip a jillion samples covering every genre imaginable into a coming-of-age story about geeking out in the era of instant access and falling in love with America as it loses its soul. It's as if some random blogger cranked out Sentimental Education, only this one has ODB freestyles, punk and reggaeton, Fabolous nicing up Toto, Vietnam flashbacks and evangelical crazies, blurring murderation and liberation in music that's proudly illegal and utterly radical. J.D.

31. Living Things, Ahead of the Lions (Jive/Zomba)
As pissed-off polemics go, the hot-potato debut from these St. Louis misfits lays the gripes on thick while still managing to rock you like a Category 5. Calling out God (and his son) while bitching about bombs, health maintenance organizations, and the police, Lillian Berlin and his three bros (two biological, one just a bud) attack their never-less-than-Nevermind-catchy songs with roiling, sophisticated righteousness, not to mention chops, tempering their resentment with a palpable lust for life. D.B.