List of the Fortnight: A-1 Cleaning to Zymanski. Go.

When it comes to music, everybody's got one aspect that draws them in more than anything. Lyrics, bass, horns, whatever. For me, I think, it's probably the vocals. A band could have an album full of perfectly penned songs, but without a decent lead singer, I probably won't give it much of a listen. Likewise, I'll forgive a multitude of musical sins if the vocalist has a truly compelling voice.

There's only a handful that meet that threshold, where I'll listen with (mostly) rapt attention to pretty much anything they do, just because the voice sucks me in. I call 'em my "phone book" singers, after the old cliche about being able to enjoy listening to someone sing through the phone book.

So here's mine. Listen to the tape I so lovingly put together so you can find out for yourself how wrong-headed my tastes are.

Richard Manuel. I thought about including his fellow singers from the Band--Levon Helm and Rick Danko--because together, with all their overlapping and trading, they concocted an incredible triple threat of awesomeness. But Manuel took most of the burden, and his voice topped just about any other I've heard in its ability to convey pure, genuine wistfulness and anguish. It obviously came from deep inside, as his suicide painfully underscored. Have a listen to "The Unfaithful Servant," and see if by "Goodbye to that country home," you aren't feeling every ounce of his pain.

Rufus Wainwright. When I was introduced to the goodness that is Rufus Wainwright in college, I thought he had one of the most obnoxious voices I had ever heard. Nasally. Scooping. Preening. But slowly--and with the help of my roommate Mike--I warmed up to him, and I'm so glad I did. Rufus (we're on a first-name basis) fits best that idea of a phone book singer: Some of his songs are a bit dull in musical structure, but he makes them not only listenable, but a true pleasure. (Don't worry, I tried not to pick too dull a song here.)

Mavis Staples. My History of Rock Music professor once said that "the only person who might be able to out-Aretha Aretha is Mavis Staples." He was right. You know the Staple Singers from "I'll Take You There," and Mavis is in fine form there. But it doesn't take as good of a song for her to show off a bit.

John Fogerty. The voice of Creedence Clearwater Revival sang with all the soul a white boy could conjure up. And then he went and toned it down for junk like "Centerfield."

Dr. John. You may not know the name (no, he has nothing to do with sex shops), but you probably know the voice. So sleazy. So fun. So New Orleans.

Van Morrison. Another soulful, instantly recognizable voice. I love it especially when he scats. It always sounds to me like he has too much joy inside that needs to get out too quickly to find time for real words.

There's my list--what's yours?

(There's two mixtapes on this one: One here for Richard Manuel and Rufus Wainwright since I had to upload those songs, and the other below for the ones I could find online.)