Songs for Pierre Chuvin is a rough-hewn gem that's a splendid throwback to the wild early days of the Mountain Goats, and it only took a pandemic to make it happen. It may not be that much of an upside, but that makes it no less welcome.

From the outset, Weight of the Sun feels less immediately accessible than Modern Studies' two previous albums and suffers a bit from its mid-tempo lull and more contemporary palette. Given some time to decant, however, it reveals hidden depths and more interesting layers than are at first apparent.

Even with the more tuneful tracks, the album has enough bizarre lyrical imagery, unexpected outbursts, and general freakiness to keep Man Man from losing the weirdness they built their sound on.

While it may not be the proper sequel to the ambitious Charli, how i'm feeling now's rawness and immediacy give it an appeal all its own. More than just an interesting social media experiment or a way to fend off quarantine boredom, it's an artistic challenge that's true to the very best parts of XCX's music.

The album reinforces the unstoppable brilliance of Merritt's writing. At any length, instrumentation or investigating whatever ridiculous subject matter, he somehow manages to be effortlessly charming, funny, odd and above all catchy.

At times the songwriting just doesn't hold up to the inventive production, but there's plenty of ear candy to fill the gaps on this extremely fun LP.

Sorceress doesn't feel like a slam dunk triumph for Williamson, in part because it seems like she's still working out the balance between the various sides of her creative personality. But she sounds solid and assured even when she's swimming through the darkness, and her consistent strength as a writer and vocalist makes Sorceress well worth investigating.

At their best, the Dears make music so beautiful that you can sometimes forget how bitter and resigned they seem to be, and Lovers Rock works the "pretty music about ugly emotions" angle as effectively as anything they or their peers have done in ages.

With so many tracks, there's something for every mood and listener, a lengthy collection of familiar sounds punctuated with just enough choice cuts to keep it interesting.

Though the work seems part and parcel of the Nightwish aesthetic, on its own it may not appeal to all fans. That said, it does add depth and dimension to Human. :II: Nature. which is, with one exception, a consistently and deeply satisfying outing that was worth waiting for.

Appearing after the release of an album Smith composed for the purposes of yoga, Mosaic has a similarly meditative flow, but with much more expansive arrangements.

While the bulk of the album may be less infectious than that tune ["How Could I"] or the record's defiant predecessor, Temple's wonky mix of pop, rock, and hip-hop hooks remains engaging and recognizably theirs.

While the hypnotic cover of Talk Talk's "Life's What You Make It" may be the only moment here that doesn't distinguish itself enough from the original. Much more frequently, however, Cover Two brings out the best in Joan as Police Woman's music as she revisits some of her favorite songs.

The essential generosity of Burgess' spirit helps keep I Love the New Sky buoyant during the rare moment it drifts a bit too far into cheerful trippiness. And those moments are so rare, they're hardly noticed.

It's an album anchored in unsettled rumination, with compellingly grainy surfaces that reveal either the expertise of its accomplished collaborators or a sophistication beyond Owen's years -- likely both.

Chunky Shrapnel is a testament to the band's powers as a live act and is sure to make their fans happy.

Hollywood Park dials back the trashy glam rock of its predecessor in favor of big earnest indie rock with the occasional flourish of gothic folk and Americana-laced post-punk.

Lyrical themes orbit around topics he often returns to: crime, struggle, and street vengeance. With Beyond Bulletproof, however, the delivery is shades more relaxed and even introspective, allowing for a clearer view of Mozzy's pain as well as his personality.

Domesticated is a low-key album by Tellier's standards, but it captures the feeling that settling down is something to be savored, and it's got to be the most glamorous-sounding album about home sweet home.

Thompson was a capable performer from the start, and Heartbreaker Please demonstrates he's improved with the passage of time, while his songwriting has also gained a depth that comes from a lived life.

There's a charming looseness to the album; while never abrasive, the samples sometimes clash with each other a bit, and it all has the feeling of a cut-and-paste collage, sounding far less refined than Eluvium or Explosions' dramatic, labored-over epics. ... The album is a poignant, playful collection of future memories.

There's an organic, painted desert beauty to the album, and its drifting moods have an unhurried feel that may be due to its lengthy creation (the trio carved out time to record it over the course of nearly five years).

Two years later, Head Above the Water reveals a calmer, more self-assured version of Power, one that has come out the other side, if with battle scars.

Self-Surgery's greatest flaw is that there are too many ideas with too little time to work them out, and this may have worked better with four somewhat longer tracks instead of eight short ones. Regardless, this is a bold, brave effort from two artists willing to push the boundaries of their music, and Mrs. Piss is a side project that has more than earned its reason to exist.

The packaging is beautiful and the intentions are admirable, but The Bowie Years tells us nothing essentially new about this vitally important moment in Iggy Pop's career, especially since outside of the disc of rarities, chances are good many committed Pop fans already have most of this in their collections.

Lacking the thudding beats of previous TALsounds releases such as Lifter + Lighter and Love Sick, Acquiesce feels even more somnambulant, but it's still driven along by an unexplainable force.

Ultimately, Las Que No Iban a Salir is more a mixtape than a proper third album; and as such, it works. It offers snippets and full-scale portraits of Bad Bunny in process, all the while showcasing his curatorial skills and providing thoroughly enjoyable performances.

What's different about On Sunset is that expansive hybrid of electronic and R&B, a fusion colored by just enough experimentation and craft to make the album feel fresh and distinctly belonging to Weller.

While a little unfocused stylistically, the recordings have a consistently dreamy, submerged sound quality that evokes a past life or at least an obscure record-store find. While the songs' narratives present Drab City as a disappointing destination full of broken hearts and gentrification, its immersive musical allure makes it worth the price of passage.

While not quite as immediate or diverse as their full-length debut, Annual slots in nicely among their rapidly expanding body of work.

Underneath all the cool gloss are pleas of empathy and togetherness, along with some elliptical protest tunes, and while those songs do lend Invisible People some topical gravity, the album is fleet on its feet, a sleek and breezy pancultural party.

Wicked City explores the extreme limits of how far a pretty song can be mangled until it crumbles completely. When the experiments are at their most successful, they can be truly transcendent.

Like so many 21st century psych-inspired bands, Bananagun lean awfully heavily into their love of a very specific era, but they've nonetheless made an exceedingly fun record with plenty of craft behind it.

Throbbing and covered in sweat, Translation is unapologetic in its intent and a surprisingly welcome reminder of the Peas' power to lift spirits not through socially conscious bars, but internationally appealing, borderless people-pleasing that unites through dance.

Warbled, atmospheric electronics eventually expand the sound design, as do subsequent tracks, like the bright, harmonic full-band pop of second track "Unready" and the lush, shimmery "Limits," whose arrangement includes scuttling electronic drums. The sparer tracks are where Gordi really excels, though.

Tracing the emotional arc of the album, a couple of calmer interludes lead into the crashing splendor of "If...." and the brooding shoegaze turbulence of "Is That What You Wanted to Hear?" The glacial drift of "Forget the Credits" feels like all of the previous songs' stress has been released as a balloon, and it feels fine to just lay back and free one's self of all burdens, now that it's all over.

While not quite on par with his best work, it is nonetheless a welcome and surprisingly fun return by one of Britain's great voices who has lost none of his wit and panache.

They're still mockingbirds, but what once felt derivative is now inching closer to vital.

Given that these musicians have been working together for the better part of 25 years, it should come as no surprise that XOXO still feels like a Jayhawks album, but while conventional wisdom in rock history tells us a band is running short on ideas when they start letting the drummer write more songs, in this case it means they're coming up with new ideas that are working well, and that's welcome news.

Despite its intermediary status, its material comes across as deeply considered and hints at creative growth, with the singer/rapper even more persuasive with heartfelt sentiments despite being as understated as ever.

Some of the most interesting tracks on 1000 Gecs and the Tree of Clues come from less predictable pairings.

The Waterfall II offers no clues as to where My Morning Jacket might be headed, but as a document of what they were capable of in the studio, it's consistent, well-structured, and satisfying in a way the original was not.

The different shades of blue are nuanced but notable and help make Blues With Friends another strong latter-day collection from Dion.

One of Laraaji's earthiest records, Sun Piano is a pure expression of his talents, as he projects spirited melodies straight from his soul.

Much of what precedes and follows it is up to the same fine standard, predominantly mellow if hot-blooded with Tribe label titans Phil Ranelin and Wendell Harrison adding some intensity with spirited blowing.

Flipping the unevenness and sonic confusion of their three 2010s albums on their heads, Bush take this opportunity to prove that they've still got enough in them beyond '90s nostalgia.

Like other Bing & Ruth albums, Species was thoroughly conceived before the musicians began recording it, yet it has such a river-like flow that it can seem as if it spontaneously poured out of Moore and his cohorts.

A set that honors and acknowledges more than wallows.

Although A Hero's Death does suffer from repetition and a lack of literacy, it remains a fun enough; the mistakes it makes won't deter existing fans of the band, although it doesn't display anything new or exciting enough to propel Fontaines D.C. to any new heights.

Life on Earth increases the anticipation for the artist's second album without diluting what has preceded it.

While covers records are common, the taste, energy, and imagination Inter Arma apply to Garbers Days Revisited is anything but. As a whole, it stands head and shoulders with any recording in their catalog.

Minor issues aside, Made of Rain is a fine and sometimes inspired comeback. It may not be Talk Talk Talk, Pt. 2 or Forever Now again, but it proves the Furs still have plenty of life left in them, and it's always nice to hear Richard Butler's voice no matter what the setting.

If there's no happy ending for the heroine, the album still satisfies with its artful balance of meditation and catharsis.

While key samples of blues, soul, and gospel vocals still make significant appearances, there's much more of Romare's own playing than on his past releases. Additionally, his tracks sound less wobbly and choppy than they used to, and they seem to progress a bit more.

While tracks like the fractured, jarring "Sidestep Summer" are as uneasy as Blumberg's previous two records, On&On is ultimately much more hopeful, if not quite inviting or accessible.

Kllo's lyrical themes are nothing out of the ordinary for lovelorn pop music, but their balance of tender introspection and airy yet zestful production sets them apart.

The LP's tone feels deliberately grandiose and it doesn't always land, but there are plenty of highlights to be found like the excellent "Change" and "Friend at First," which reveal what a sharp songwriter Gonzalez is.

Articulation displays West's skills at letting human emotions guide his technical explorations, matching intuition with precision to produce gripping, resonant music.

Live at Goose Lake, August 8, 1970 isn't the gloriously transformative historical document some might have dreamed it would be, but it is a recording of a genuinely great rock band playing a pretty good show with genuine enthusiasm, and you can never have too many of those on hand.

Have You Lost Your Mind Yet? crackles with energy, wit, and passion, attributes that are worthwhile effective compensation for Fantastic Negrito's relatively streamlined attack here.

As strange as the album's combination of whimsy and wistfulness might seem, it makes for one of Fevre's most varied, oddly introspective works, ending his career on a good note.

Gift of Sacrifice, in comparison, is noticeably more accomplished and better thought out, and Dunn's presence as a collaborator certainly helps Osborne make this into something memorable, though if he's smart he won't get rid of his amplifiers just yet.

The album hits like the work of a solitary creator, however, its suffocating songs often warped by trippy arrangements, unpredictable turns, and out-of-tune components (including persistent double-tracking) all sound like the product of a singular, eccentric perspective.

Candid's mellow transcriptions and restrained approach may or may not draw praise from admirers of the source material, but they're a must for fans of the group's distinctly reflective demeanor and bubble-wrapped ambiance, which, guided by Ehrlich's soothing presence, succeed in making each version their own.

It's a moody puzzle box of an album, one that pays dividends with close listening but one that's also fine as evocative background music.

Show Pony is his declaration that if he's offered the spotlight, he'll claim it as the place he deserves to be, and on the basis of the talent and audacity shown here, only a narrow-minded fool would bet against him.

Each song recalls the essence of a specific segment of '70s pop excellence, with just enough bizarre twists thrown in to keep things interesting.

The album sounds even more emphatically Bully, with many of its hooky and grungy, visceral tracks examining the end and aftermath of a relationship.

The second half is far too weighted to favor ballads. So much so, in fact, that the poignant closer, "Longest Lasting Friend," is almost lost in the shuffle despite its arresting quality. That's a small complaint, however, Holy Moly! is strong, relentlessly creative, and restlessly self-assured in its aspirations.

The small army of musicians continue to merrily pursue their muse, unconcerned with the human logic of time and space.

Like her debut, Inner Song covers a lot of emotional ground, and her exploratory spirit is just as captivating as the messages she expresses.

Aptly named, ...But I'd Rather Be with You's emotional throughline is loneliness, and Tuttle does the feeling justice on a faithful rendition of Cat Stevens' "How Can I Tell You," which brings affairs to a close with subtle potency.

Nas is more ruminative and measured, like he's found his stride again, even as he flagrantly contradicts himself and waylays men and women with relationship advice that rings hollow. Going strictly by the conviction and feeling in each line, King's Disease is the MC's best work since 2008.

What makes S&M2 so absorbing and entertaining is how all the musicians involved embrace both the ridiculousness and seriousness of their endeavor, creating a glorious overblown noise impressive in its ambition, heft and unspoken absurdity.

A true counterpart to Car Ma, Sound Wheel is all the richer when coupled with the book's vision. On its own terms, it offers another intriguing side to Mosshart's persona.

It's a record that may require this kind of attention to detail to fully appreciate, but even absent that, All That Emotion is an elegant exploration of soft atmospheres as well as human behavior.

Fall to Pieces justly wallows in its grief, a document to loss and tragedy. This sonic bloodletting is by no means an easy or fun listen, but an invitation to grieve alongside Tricky.

With this collection of poems, Lana Del Rey offers an alternate view of the sun-dazzled California dreaming that fuels her songs. Her spoken word pieces reveal a more immediate lyrical sophistication, but they maintain the strange and powerful magic Del Rey has been cultivating her entire career.

Lightning Show Us Your Stuff doesn't feel like one of the truly great albums in Grant-Lee Phillips's catalog, but it's certainly a very good one, and any artist who can reliably turn out music this smart, impassioned, and well-crafted is someone who more than deserves a larger audience.

Despite the fair amount of low-key experimentation on display, Faith still feels, at its core, wonderfully familiar. This isn't an album where Hurts push to subvert their own sound, but there's clearly plenty of inspiration behind it -- divine or otherwise.

At its best, this debut is a joyful testament to coming out the other side of trauma, though at times, some of the arrangements rely a little too heavily on repetition, taking the album's title quite literally. Still, it's nice to hear Johnson step out on his own and deliver a meaningful set of songs.

They work to offer yet another unruly, unpredictable dimension in Mastodon's complex musical persona. Simply put, Medium Rarities is a must for fans.

On An Evening of New York Songs and Stories in 2019, she reminds us she's more than lived up to her promise and remains a quietly charismatic performer with plenty of songs worth hearing.

Like other Uniform records, Shame is bleak and chaotic, but feels unmistakably honest and true to life.

Find the Sun is filled with insightful, poetic lyrics that reward attention, but the overall vibe of the album is best suited for a more meditative, perhaps semi-conscious state, allowing the sounds and rhythms to wash over you.

From radically manipulated samples to original compositions played by live musicians, no particular method suits Arrington best here. The highlights fall across the spectrum.

Without applying any analysis, there is much to enjoy here; their raucous energy shines just as bright, but underneath the surface Ultra Mono lacks the sparkle that made their first two records truly special.

Blue on Blue shuts down any arguments that Simmons is a dilettante when it comes to performing; she's an artist who has made a satisfying and expressive work of art not once, but twice.

Generations finds Butler offering up another set of passionate songs rich with complex but understated arrangements.

It's a continuation of what the band did three decades earlier on ACR: MCR, which showed Weatherall and company the way forward, all the way down to the recruitment of Denise Johnson as lead vocalist.

Carefree Theatre is a well-crafted exercise in sunny indie pop, with clean and fuzzy guitars pairing up for maximum melodic friendliness and contented harmonies keeping the music fresh and warm.

Even though Renegade Breakdown intentionally lacks the club energy that drove much of Davidson's best-known material, it's at least as inventive and exploratory.

While some may find the two earlier volumes more satisfying due to more dramatic presentations, the "Perfect Vision" trilogy needed Peradam's gentler, decidedly more exploratory texts of a dangerous spiritual quest and discovery to come full-circle. Framed by field-recorded eloquence, Smith's voice delivers on that potential.

While some songs are more interesting than others and some tend too close to blink-182 worship, Tickets to My Downfall succeeds more than it falters. While it would rank as a slightly above average album for any given pop-punk band, there's an added excitement in how risky this about-face is for a multi-platinum artist who could have easily turned in the same record he made last time.

Detractors will rightfully point out that Free Love utilizes the same sonic architecture as its predecessors, but it's a fairly idiosyncratic template and one that Meath and Sanborn have shown great skill with over three albums now. Besides, the world always needs more dance music for introverts.

Taken together, it's a sequestered, rainy Sunday type of album with flawed, world-weary vocal performances that are laid bare by such impressionistic accompaniment.

Chronologically sequenced, it presents an alternate, semi-secret MC timeline. It starts with an upbeat Mariah Carey outtake, ends with a 2020 acoustic version of Butterfly track "Close My Eyes," and more importantly contains some prime B-sides.

An album that's an uneasy mix of a band that's fully in control of their sound, making some good choices as they expand, but also occasionally toppling over as they overreach. It's worth checking out for the songs that work -- the group certainly haven't lost their touch when it comes to uptempo gloomy synth pop -- and the less successful moments aren't enough to sink the album entirely.