The band finishes off the album by following "Cinnamon Temple" with a raucous remake of Jefferson Airplane's "White Rabbit" that shoves the acid rock classic in front of a fun house mirror. Increased chaos and whimsy only heightens Hiatus Kaiyote's ability to enchant and exhilarate.

This is a very strong debut of well-built songwriting and captivating vocals.

Still tuned in to an aesthetic of translating disparate ideas into fine-tuned songs, the Folk Implosion sound at home on Walk Thru Me, taking their music to new, strange places, as always, regardless of the years that have passed since the last time we heard from them.

Though it comes a decade after the last entry to Dirty Three's ongoing story, Love Changes Everything picks up, as each new chapter of the group's story does, as if no time has passed at all, and the trio keeps flowing naturally forward.

The Healer is an emotionally draining experience, like all of SUMAC's other releases, but it reaches transcendence in a unique and powerful way.

Grush clearly finds µ-Ziq in comfortable territory, but he's still trying new things, and his work is still highly enjoyable.

Though most of What Happened to the Heart? lands in a dance-pop middle ground stylistically, ballads like the Brazilian-flavored "The Essence" and synth-enhanced "Dreams" offer room to breathe with their drum-less or drum-light arrangements.

More than a reductive "Zayn goes country" album, the beautiful Room Under the Stairs is the sound of an artist trying something brave and new, tapping into his soul and coming out on the other side with the strongest album of his career to date.

Heartfelt and well-built songs like "Cheap Coffee" and "We Are Loved" help anchor the set, but there's an underlying banality that keeps it from greatness. Still, it's an improvement on its predecessor.

By the orchestral, Chelsea Girl-evoking beauty of final track "Why Worry," Campbell has spent the album flitting from idea to idea, ending up with a sampler pack of different stylizations of her always lovely (if not always simple) songcraft.

More than just a standards or tribute album, Sweet Whispers reveals just how stylistically broad-minded Vaughan was, a compelling trait McFarlane carries forward with passionate aplomb.

Far from limited and much more than a gimmick, O.'s approach on WeirdOs is undeniably strange -- and a lot of invigorating fun for anyone who loves music that's as unpretentious as it is inventive.

Alvin and Gilmore are two great tastes who taste great together, with Alvin's salt and Gilmore's sweetness accenting one another very well indeed, and Texicali is strong enough to suggest this collaboration should have gas in the tank for at least one more album.

She clearly wanted an audience to hear these songs, but she also wanted a chance to create with artists she loves and respects, and the joy of creation is matched by the joy of hearing these musicians at work.

Rest assured, songs including the opening "Millions of Heartbeats" make clear that Nash hasn't lost her impudent flair; however, by the end of the record, any cheekiness is easily outweighed by disarming earnestness.

Staples is in top form on Dark Times. It's another chapter of his uniquely smoke-colored narratives, form-fitting production, and perfectly balanced expressions of heaviness and acceptance.

We Sang, Therefore We Were may have been born out of restlessness and anger, but it's also a remarkably fun dispatch from one of indie music's most inventive musical minds.

MESTIZX is unlike any other album. It is where the historic cultural past meets present-day conflict and jingoism. Undaunted, this duo chart a direction and unfettered hope for the future, holism, and acceptance.

Sonido Cósmico is gorgeous. This music retains Hermanos Gutiérrez's core musical fingerprint. That said, its collaborative strategy extends the brothers' reach in exploring genres, rhythms, colors, textures, and production techniques.

We Have Dozens of Titles offers a sense that their state of perpetual metamorphosis actually went even deeper than what was shown on their widely adored studio records.

Placenta's sound, while immediately recognizable as a work of Niño's, goes very deep and very wide due to his familiarity, respect for, and reliance on the gifts of his studio cast.

Throughout Eight Pointed Star's various stylistic touchpoints, artistic allusions, and consistently lyrical melodies, Allen effectively merges the cerebral and the sentimental on an album that's ultimately about different kinds of love.

The preponderance of previous Ziggy Stardust reissues and Bowie at the Beeb collections does rob this set of some of its surprise because so much of this music has been in circulation. That said, this set does indeed contain some excavated rarities, highlighted by "So Long 60s" -- Bowie would rewrite this folky number into the bracingly modernist "Moonage Daydream" -- and two unheard songs from the album's early days.

Although Wings are augmented by an orchestra on occasion, One Hand Clapping feels rough, free, and immediate, lacking the polish that gave Wings Over America its sheen. The loose feel isn't limited to the performances themselves. McCartney punctuates the rockers with vaudevillian throwaways, alternating between classics like "Baby Face" and originals like "I'll Give You a Ring," not so much concentrating on smooth transitions as indulging his every whim.

Why Lawd? is neither crowded nor compromised by the extra voices. Like the debut, this is primarily an R&B record with Paak's variably frisky and lovelorn singing voice and Knxwledge's warped sample-based productions as the basis.

Fine Art is a major step up for Kneecap, an already unique group who have finally delivered on their early promise with a bold, relevant statement.

Though wit and sincerity have never been opposites in Grant's music, he's never brought them -- as well as beauty, cruelty, anger, and love -- together quite as potently as he does on The Art of the Lie's portraits of a society tearing itself apart.

It may not be especially optimistic, but it's certainly powerful and inspiring, and we probably need that more from Cale than forced cheeriness, a skill he need not acquire this far into his career.

An album where the energy is intrinsic and impossible to miss, but deeper complexities hide in the details that keep changing.

For an album that spans multiple styles and features a different guest vocalist on every song, Always Centered at Night is consistently passionate and spiritual.

If Model suffers from anything, it's sometimes seeming a bit formulaic in the process, but the good news is that the band is really good at catchy unlucky-in-love songs.

Goat Girl's wealth of ideas is one of their biggest strengths, but Below the Waste lacks the focus that united their music into a cohesive whole on On All Fours.

This is the best and most satisfying album Buffalo Tom has made since they returned to recording with 2007's Three Easy Pieces, and if it sounds different than these men did when they were in their twenties, it sounds just like who they are, and in this context, that's a gift.

A welcome standout in Eels' body of work.

The album teeters eloquently between introspective folk, twangy roots pop, and bashing psych-rockabilly numbers. Musically, the album is a nice balance of the sounds and influences he's pursued throughout his career.

Gravity Stairs may feel cozy, but it never feels lazy. Some of that surely lies in how the band chooses to camouflage its strong melodic core with fluid, shifting surfaces -- a decision that winds up emphasizing sound over song while also directing focus to the familial chemistry of the band.

Full of dark-hued emotions that speak to the self-examination and deconstruction Garcia went through, Gemelo is also bright with passion and artful musical experimentation.

Kaytranada continues to refine his sample-laced mixture of house, compas, hip-hop, and other cross-continental styles of dance music with Timeless.

Brat's supersaturated sound amplifies her music's swaggering highs and vulnerable depths. .... She delivers some of her most engaging and mature music.

Jon does sound more robust than he did on, say, 2020. It's also true that Bon Jovi isn't making music that would push their singer to his limits. Forever is filled with ballads and midtempo anthems that would sound bigger on an adult contemporary station than an arena. The subdued nature is accentuated by Bon Jovi's proud embrace of nostalgia.

I Hear You varies in quality, with some songs clearly more successful than others, but overall, it's a fun, adventurous record confirming Peggy Gou's status as one of the more distinctive figures in club music.

Darning Woman is at its most captivating when it doesn't even sound much like music at all, but more like the grinding gears of an overactive brain processing confusion and bliss.

Stylistically, Kravitz may not be trying anything new, but his decision to prioritize good vibes above all else generates an unusually satisfying record from the rocker.

This is one of the most rewarding and indulgent releases in Bring Me the Horizon's post-Sempiternal era, a big payoff for fans willing to delve into the lore and a pure thrill for anyone who likes to feel heavy music both in spirit and body.

The bulk of Gunna's boastful wordplay is less inspired than normal, though that shortcoming is mitigated by a handful of bravely reflective and revealing deep cuts.

Generally apologetic, reassuring, and hopeful, Chaos Angel is a comforting album that features some of Hawke's hookiest and most self-assured material yet.

Ship to Shore is one of the tightest collections he's made in the past quarter-century, exhibiting a wide tonal palette and a vitality belying his 75 years.

The album carries a lightness that's emphasized by its brisk running time. That might mean The Border, unlike A Beautiful Time, doesn't quite feel like a final chapter but rather a welcome coda restating Nelson's strengths with casual ease.

While Big Swimmer isn't especially hooky or melodic or cathartic, it is mesmerizing, and performed with an actor's command of an audience, a playwright's turn of phrase, and an expert sense of guitar tones -- as well as an enviable, intangible coolness.

The debut full-length album from Brisbane, Australia's Girl and Girl, 2024's Call a Doctor, crackles with a youthful enthusiasm that finds the quartet ably balancing a mix of late-'70s and early-'80s post-punk and jangle pop influences.

All Aftab's earlier recordings are captivating. That said, Night Reign is a powerful, sensuous, and commanding illustration of the artist's mature vision. It reveals just how receptive, and even vulnerable she is to the spirits of creative inquiry, possibility, and revelation.

Audio Vertigo brings it all together, distilling their many attributes into one of their most exciting albums in years.

The ten-song set is a non-stop whirlwind of chugging, downtuned riffs, urgently screamed vocals, and machine-gun drum performances pushed to the front of the mixes.

The Moon Is in the Wrong Place doesn't feel like an out-of-the-box banger like the Clams' best LPs, but it aims for something different than their previous work, and on its own terms it's a deeply affecting success.

Cleveland's vocals are unfortunately low in the mix and it's often difficult to make out the lyrics, but approached simply as another instrument in the ensemble, her soft, breathy tone is lovely and enigmatic, and the layers of echoey guitars and '60s-style keyboard sounds blend wonderfully with her vocals.

If it ["Ballon de Peut-Etre"] stands out from the other tracks, it shows Bird is in touch with the improvisational heart of post-war jazz, and it's a bold but satisfying conclusion to an LP that reminds us just how quietly brilliant Andrew Bird can be.

Tight, simple, and effective, Hit Me Hard and Soft does just that: it comes in with a bang, thrilling with fresh production and heavy lyrical content, before easing the listener into the murky emotional depths seen on the cover art.

Though its songs about a world falling apart were difficult for DIIV to make, Frog in Boiling Water is their most cohesive work. It's a true slow burn of an album, capturing listeners by degrees and echoing the band's subtle yet dramatic growth since Oshin.

Twenty One Pilots tie a bow on a fascinating narrative that has captured the imagination of a legion of fans around the globe. Fortunately for listeners unaware of the backstory, the songs are reliably catchy and intriguing enough to grab their attention, too.

Throughout the album, otherworldly touches -- loops, processed acoustic instruments, imperfect multi-tracked vocals, echo -- work effectively alongside sighed deliveries and fingerpaint-like lyrics that capture the emotions of otherwise fragmented memories.

Weller sounds looser and lighter on 66 than he did in the recent past, a shift that adds warmth and playfulness to his wisdom.

The lyrics of Dadadi's carnival-ready "Jigi Jigi" acknowledge the sounds of several disparate lands, and Nana Budjei's "Asobrachie" has a strong digital reggae rhythm. Best of all is "Barima Nsu" by Kwasi Afari Minta, an equally hypnotic and haunting ten-minute whirlwind that instantly feels like a lost classic.

To All Trains is almost certainly the final Shellac album, but it isn't a maudlin curtain call. It's a document of a happily uncompromising band living out their vision and loving their art, and on that level, it's as good a place as any to appreciate their (and his) singular brilliance. And it rocks.

The second (and/or third) classic, timeless, and timely Childish Gambino record in a row.

Lives Outgrown reveals Gibbons' music is only getting richer as the years pass.

The album may have been written during a dark night of the soul but it was recorded with precision and concentration, ultimately obscuring the pain at the point of origin. It's an approach that hardly does a disservice to either Shultz or Cage the Elephant: it gives Neon Pill an alluring, subdued pulse that soothes instead of stirs.

Each of Dehd's album's has been smarter, stranger, and more deceptively complex than the last, and the delightful and adventurous Poetry continues this upward trend.

An indispensable addition not only to the Analog Africa catalog but to the burgeoning cultural conversation around the significance, import, and variety of techniques, innovations, aesthetics, and attitudes in African music-making from the era.

Something about I Am Jordan feels a bit moderated, because even though it's a fun, celebratory record, it doesn't always hit the ecstatic highs that it's shooting for. Still, even if it isn't chock-full of wall-to-wall bangers, it's certainly an inspired effort that charts Jordan's growth as an artist and as a person.

Bullion's additions to this specific library of sounds are fresh and individualized, making Affection a soft world of its own, and one that merits frequent return visits and continued exploration.

A greater amount of collaboration notwithstanding, Ten Fold couldn't feel more personal, from the in-the-moment experiential songwriting to sampled and recorded appearances from her father, Juice Crew associate Grand Daddy I.U.

Pokey LaFarge manages to show off some depth and have a lot of fun at the same time on Rhumba Country, and listeners should have a ball right along with him.

It's tempting to want these songs to have the space to breathe. Nevertheless, McMahon always takes his music wherever it needs to go, and Death Jokes is the bracing sound of Amen Dunes actively engaging with the world and its problems.

In "Mustangs," which asks, "Are you a mustang or a kitty?" Your desire to answer that question may or may not depend on how deeply you spark to the album. Yet, the lyric is playful, Pop Art-provocative, and speaks to the joy, sweat, and poetic inspiration coursing through all of Can We Please Have Fun.

Being able to hear any previously unreleased Broadcast music is a thrill, but discovering the raw brilliance of the music on Spell Blanket is a true privilege.

An easygoing grower that digs deeper with each successive listen, Radical Optimism doesn't need to be Future Nostalgia 2.0; it's the sound of an artist enjoying life and exploring new directions as she continues to hone her craft.

Though much tighter and more adventurous musically, the unified approach on Pull the Rope recalls the ambitious scope of Ibibio's eponymous debut while their songwriting expresses pain, hope, joy, desire, and struggle with sophistication and verve.

The resulting album Look to the East, Look to the West is both a fitting tribute to what the band once was and a powerful new beginning.

There's no fat, no excess, so the craft that services the emotion is difficult to deny.

He doesn't merely juxtapose instruments and sounds, he painstakingly combines them, bringing joy, intensity, political, social, and spiritual poignancy in a vision at once focused, restless, and playful.

Despite its lyrical intensity, there is an abundance of passion and joy in Mdou Moctar's music that can't help but spill over with communal energy. This is a band and artist working at their peak, and Funeral for Justice is a career highlight.

Reasonable Woman gets Sia back on track, joining Fear and Acting as one of the most compelling and listenable efforts in her post-breakthrough catalog -- a huge relief for anyone who thought she had lost her touch.

Setting its heavy heart aside, the album still affects with an emotional roller coaster of musical material, recommended together for a good dance-cry.

Her songs are still wounded and far away, but the expanded instrumentation gives them a prismatic glow and makes for one of the most fascinating and repeatable sets from an artist who was already in a class by herself.

A Dream Is All We Know mixes up its subjects of study but chooses obsessively detailed replication over the hints of originality and vulnerable emotions that start emerging when the Lemon Twigs let their guard down.

With its loping, relaxed grooves and patina of sweetened strings, $10 Cowboy could be mistaken for a product of FAME Studios in Muscle Shoals, not an album originating from a small studio in Austin, Texas.

Cole's bars concentrate primarily on how far ahead of everyone else in the game he is and how his skills are unapproachable.

It's that sound of love, the fantasy vs. the reality of a relationship, that fascinates McAlpine and makes Older such a lovely and bittersweet experience.

WE STILL DON'T TRUST YOU is a nearly 90-minute sprawl divided into two parts.

While that song ["No One"] is hard-hitting enough to count as a standout, One Million Love Songs is nothing if not consistent, with 11 gifts for the lonely-hearted.

Fun sonic flourishes abound, like the heady call-and-response of "Incognito" or the winding melody that gives "Explorer" a phantom of the discotheque vibe, but ultimately, Hyperdrama is neither catchy enough to play to the duo's pop strengths nor bold enough to highlight Justice's experimental skills.

The slow crawl through the nightmarish "Murder of Sunrise" doesn't need to be 17 minutes long, but otherwise, That Delicious Vice finds Kid Congo Powers going from strength to strength as a frontman, and holds a special place in his stellar resumé.

Wiggle Your Fingers' ten songs are canny and beautifully executed pastiches of West Coast soft rock, sunshine pop, jangle pop, and polished psychedelia, and he's even moved forward enough to add a dash of new wave to the formula, as evidenced in the slightly angular keyboards on "Second Chance" and the power-pop crunch of "The Dropouts."

Beam has done this kind of thing before, but he seems to be digging a little deeper lyrically here, while crafting arrangements that are truly lush and lovely, better than any on previous Iron & Wine albums. That's a high bar, but he soars over it with plenty of room to spare, and in the end Light Verse turns out to be one of the most enjoyable, varied, and well-crafted of the band's records.

Clark has more than earned the freedom she gives herself to express so many different sides to her music, and it's a thrill to hear her stretch out on these ferocious, heartbroken, and ultimately life-affirming songs.

The first half verges on sluggish -- the call to "Release the pressure -- big, big fun" comes across as unenthusiastic, maybe even sarcastic -- but most of the songs do have an alluring quality. There's considerably more verve and buoyancy to the second half.

While the feelings here are melodramatic and overexpressed, sometimes to the point of ridiculousness, this also has some of Swift’s best work, and much of the best pop music ever made.

It's rough-around-the-edges fun, with the warmth of familiarity and kinship that Neil Young & Crazy Horse have built by playing together for more than half a century.