10 Jewel Case Treasures of 2006

The Dixie Chicks' "Taking the Long Way" is a tuneful tour de force. (By Mark Seliger)

Woe be unto the pop music critic who doesn't stay on top of his mailbox. The music industry may be in a slump, but more artists than ever are trying to be heard. So it seemed this year, when several thousand albums came my way.

Here are the top 10:

1. Dixie Chicks, "Taking the Long Way"

Forget, for a moment, about the controversy that enveloped the Dixie Chicks after lead singer Natalie Maines popped off about President Bush in 2003. Forget the backlash, the evaporating airplay, the protests, Toby Keith, the death threats, the naked magazine cover, the politics -- all of it. Put down the baggage and pick up the Texas trio's latest album and revel in the rich melodies, the soaring harmonies, the sharp writing and gorgeous instrumentation and sense of soul. It's a tuneful tour de force, a triumph of pop songcraft that's a little bit country, a little bit more soft-rock-and-roll. Of course, it's impossible to forget about the back story, because the Chicks won't let you. While this isn't an album-length diatribe, the Chicks aren't biting their tongues, either: They're downright defiant in "Not Ready to Make Nice," one of the great singles of 2006. So they're not exactly contrite and conciliatory. Isn't being great good enough?

2. Johnny Cash , "American V: A Hundred Highways"

The country icon knew he wasn't long for this world while he was recording this album, and it shows: The elegiac song cycle is the extraordinary sound of a man preparing to die. But it's hardly a morbid, funereal affair. Instead, it's a stunning farewell from a man who is at peace with the inevitability that's hovering over him. (Cash died in 2003, at the age of 71; the album was completed posthumously, with producer Rick Rubin overseeing the instrumental overdubs.) The singer even brings a touch of humor to his own wake, in the last song he wrote, "Like the 309." Short of breath, his booming baritone reduced to a fragile whisper, he playfully notes that "asthma's coming down like the 309" before exhaling loudly. The vocal degradation brings extra intimacy and naked emotion to the source material, and the result is arresting. O death!

3. Solomon Burke , "Nashville"

In R&B, there are singers, and then there are sang ers. The great ones. The legends. Burke is a sanger, blessed with an explosive, elastic baritone and the innate ability to completely inhabit a song. The old soul man's voice has grown rough around the edges, but the extra grit serves him well on this exquisite set of country covers. That's especially true on the more plaintive material, from devastating readings of Don Williams's lachrymose "Atta Way to Go" and Tom T. Hall's heart-sore "That's How I Got to Memphis" to a transcendent duet with Patty Griffin on her heavenly song "Up to the Mountain." The album co-stars a luminous cast of country and Americana artists (Dolly Parton, Emmylou Harris, Sam Bush, Al Perkins), but producer Buddy Miller smartly shows enough restraint to let Burke's weather-beaten voice shine.

4. Josh Ritter , "The Animal Years"

Ritter is a preternaturally gifted singer-songwriter whose work echoes the likes of Bruce Springsteen, Bob Dylan, Leonard Cohen, Mike Scott and Townes Van Zandt. It's dangerous, and potentially even damaging, to liken a young artist to so many greats, but Ritter wears the comparisons well: "The Animal Years" is a confident, serious and sophisticated set of majestic, deeply meaningful songs that match literate lyrics with ambitious arrangements. Ritter sings about love, spirituality, emotional confusion and a sense of rootlessness, and he also riffs on conflict: The album's centerpieces are its antiwar songs, "Thin Blue Flame" and "Girl in the War." This is a creative masterstroke from one of the new breed's brightest lights.

5. Clipse, "Hell Hath No Fury"

The Virginia Beach brothers Pusha T and Malice make morally bankrupt music -- stark, punishing rap songs about selling cocaine. But they do so with an incredible creative flourish, their lyrics clever and colorful even as they exude an unsettling sense of calculated cool: "The Black Martha Stewart / Let me show you how to do it / Break pies to pieces / Make cocaine quiches." Their clipped flows are framed by the bleak, blistering music of the Neptunes, whose coldblooded beats and bleats are a perfect match for the decidedly unrepentant rappers. While the final package is completely amoral, it's also compelling art from two of hip-hop's most inventive wordsmiths.