The 40 Best Albums of 2005

20. System of a Down, Hypnotize (American/Columbia)
America's most compelling metal band hones a mash-up of Cali-punk absurdism, political outrage, and jump-cut headbanging. Just like the music of SoCal homeboys Rage Against the Machine, the second half of SOAD's double CD (the first, Mesmerize, was released six months prior), is shaped by hip-hop but spares us the rap-metal shtick. The heat comes primarily from Daron Malakian, whose songwriting is getting both stranger and prettier. As good for what it is as for what it promises down the road. W.H.

19. Kaiser Chiefs, Employment (Universal)
While iPod people predict the Death of the Album, it's refreshing to find a half-frantic, all-polished metalloid coaster that packs at least six potential singles on a cohesive debut that recalls the glory days of Britpop and second-wave punk. That those songs can be so joyous while detailing criminality and not believing "me and you did sex" signifies a band more interested in crafting instant-gratification pop than wallowing in gloomy impressionism. Plus, the tracks all sound different enough that you'll think you're on shuffle anyhow. D.B.

18. The White Stripes, Get Behind Me Satan (V2)
All mid-career stumbles should be this much fun. Embracing the irony of being the puniest arena act of all time, the band adds piano (the White Stripes equivalent of hiring the Neptunes) to its austere drums-and-guitars sound, and Mr. White affects a demented-nobleman persona that English bands used to have to kill a groupie to pull off convincingly. But set against Jack's unexpected tabloid fame, this disc's bemused, surreal character feels less like a middle finger than an attempt to insulate the group from the bruising limelight. A.B.

17. Common, Be (Geffen)
Integrity has always been Common's albatross, assuaging his soul, if not his pockets. But while he struggled with bohemianism and Badu, Kanye West proved insight could sell if gussied up nice. And so, for his sixth album, Common asked West to reimagine him as a '70s corner boy gone straight. Though steering away from platinum pixie dust, the producer provided crucial context for the MC's conflicts. Bathed in throwback soul and lively drums, Common suddenly sounded like the seer he'd always hoped he was. J.D.C.

16. The Go! Team, Thunder, Lightning, Strike (Memphis Industries/Columbia)
Mixing the sweeping boogie pomp of '80s action-show themes with the cuddly glee of early-'90s international underground pop, this pom-pom-waving British band came up with the year's hookiest undeniable pleasure. Grandiose but dinky, obviously carefree but wistfully poignant, they took the indie nation back to twee emotional states we'd declared no-fly-zones back during the second Clinton term, daring us to embrace woo-hoo optimism as the old new sincerity. The sound of leaping off of an exploding building into a mountain of cotton candy. J.D.

15. Slim Thug, Already Platinum (Star Trak/Geffen)
In the year when Houston hip-hop was the world, Slim Thug was its indifferent king. Platinum turned lethargy into a virtue, with tracks produced largely by the Neptunes, whose experiments in minimal, stern funk proved a perfect, if unlikely, complement to Slim's all-gravity basso profundo. Sure, he shined just as brightly as Mike Jones and Paul Wall, but Slim's not giddy about it -- or selfish: He even let Jones have "Still Tippin'." Lazy miscalculation or breezy arrogance? Slim won for being too cool to parse the difference. J.D.C.

14. Death Cab for Cutie, Plans (Atlantic)
Seattle's sensitive gents earn their post-OC hype and major-label contract by taking listeners out on a stellar fifth date. Plans could be about scheming for a chart takeover, but singer Ben Gibbard's everyguy manner suggests he's more likely thinking about Friday night at the bowling alley. And though Gibbard's romantic croon soars like a wayward balloon, Death Cab's melodic, mellow guitar rock is earthy enough to ensure there's no danger of reality floating away. As usual, the chords always resolve, even if the heartbreaks don't. C.G.

13. My Morning Jacket, Z (ATO/RCA)
Perfectly balancing their indie-rock weirdness with their classic-rock soul, MMJ are so convinced of their badassness they named their best record for the sign of Zorro. Never mind that the letter is a softball for haters to dismiss it with snores, or that frontman Jim James rocks a Flying V. The title also represents the tingling zzzz you get from everything this album delivers: beautiful melodies, fizzy dual-guitar jams, soaring soul-man falsettos, convincing reggae grooves -- and an unexpected shout-out to Madonna. W.H.

12. The Mars Volta, Frances the Mute (Strummer/Universal)
Great punk bands take what they want, then turn it into something else. Attacking the hobbit-infested shire of progressive rock, these shape-shifters -- led by ex-At the Drive-In duo Omar Rodriguez-Lopez and Cedric Bixler Zavala -- do battle with the concept album. On the quasi-sequel to 2003's De-Loused in the Comatorium, Volta spin oblique tales inspired by a diary that late band member Jeremy Ward found in the back seat of a repo'd car. But if that MO sounds a bit out there, their space jams still have roots in our doomed stratosphere, and their noodling has a hardcore pulse. Classic rock for right now. C.R.

11. Beck, Guero (Interscope)
Los Angeles plays itself: the noise of traffic, boom boxes, curbside Spanglish, mariachi music -- the sound of what it's like to be an outcast even in an outsiders' hood. Somewhere between South Central and Hollywood, Beck revisits the barrio of his boyhood, feeling a little older than the white boy he once was. After lamenting that "the days go slow into a void we filled with death," he races the Reaper in a rental car. But that battle ends the same way everything does. Guess who wins. M.E.M.