A welcome new entry in PT's catalog, it reveals in fits and starts that the band have plenty left to say -- just what that is remains elusive and unclear on this wide-ranging return.

There's a warmth to Up and Away that does suggest analog, with help from plenty of dreamy reverb and additional acoustic textures like Arabic stringed instrument the kanun, which serves to amplify the album's cosmopolitan flair.

It's an engaging delight that will grow on old fans and likely win Flasher plenty of new ones.

The live performance here by the Ensemble Intercontemporain (a group that once upon a time would have had little to do with Reich) is sharp, and the Salle Boulez at the Philharmonie de Paris serves the work well acoustically.

By turns frustrating and engaging, The Other Side of Make-Believe is decidedly uneven, especially coming after the frequently great Marauder. Nevertheless, it offers plenty of mood and a little bit of innovation from a band still revealing nuances to their sound 20 years after their debut.

In between "Confession" and "Float" is the sharply contrasting "The Hour," whose haunted, fingerpicked folk and mournful vocal draw on troubadour tradition. Everything else falls somewhere in between, and somehow, from its pastoral opening title track to its glistening rock closer ("Willow's Song"), Sound of the Morning makes sense, through acknowledging struggle and uplifting with a gumption and determination that's reflected in its design.

2021's Cavalcade found the group exploring a lushly orchestrated avant-prog sound, switching between spiky, angular workouts and softer, more patient compositions. Hellfire moves further in this direction, but with a greater sense of showmanship.

Whether you prefer the slightly more organic vibe of Toast or the cleaned-up Are You Passionate? will depend on your personal relationship with Young's massive catalog. For fans of his early moody rock or the rough-edged brilliance he always locked into with Crazy Horse, Toast will be a clear favorite more than just an interesting companion piece.

Down Tools shows Mush can smooth down their surfaces a bit and still sound challenging and subversively witty, and as long as they do, they'll be worth hearing.

Working Men's Club dig even deeper into their black disco ball aesthetic, crafting an album full of acidic electronica that straddles the line between atonally robotic industrial music and dancefloor-friendly post-punk.

Mallinder's vocal style on this album is far removed from the unhinged paranoia of early CV, sounding much more reserved and shadowy but not vulnerable. This suits the music perfectly, as the rhythms energetically unfold without reaching any sort of climax but are too busy and engaging to recede into the background.

While a trimmed-down version of the album might have been more consistent, …And You Will Know Us by the Trail of Dead are going for dream-spinning pageantry, and XI: Bleed Here Now is more proof they'll always be true believers in rock's power of spectacle.

Highlights include the Carly Rae Jepsen-esque, synth-washed jam "No Problem" (with Felix of Stray Kids) and the frantic sing-along anthem "POP!" Front-loaded with the immediate, pulse-pounding fare, IM NAYEON closes with a trio of sensual and smoothed-out tracks that would make early '90s R&B girl groups proud.

A lush, sophisticated, and otherworldly project from its earliest days, Nightlands ultimately takes on its most panoramic rendering yet on a track list interspersed with brief, wordless ("Blue Wave," "Song for Brad") or lyrically concise atmospheric pieces, such as the cricket-assisted "Greenway."

"Hello, Hi" reveals that even when he's playing quiet so as not to wake the neighbors, he's still keeping it alive, and if you need some music for a quiet morning, this will ease you into the day quite nicely.

It's not all the hits, but as they run through "Just Got Paid," "Heard it on the X," "La Grange," "Tush, "I'm Bad, I'm Nationwide," and "Legs," it feels like they are -- but there's still energy and a palpable joy in how they launch into a groove or extend themselves in a jam and it's still a wonder to hear Gibbons solo.

The Resurrection of Rust doesn't suggest the world lost a potential classic when Rusty failed to make a record in 1972, but as a glorious recollection of a youth well misspent, it's hard not to love if you care about Costello at all.

Those expecting the organic post rock fusion of the bands McEntire and Prekop are best known for won't find it in the meditative lingering of Sons Of, but close listeners will hear the same airy melodic sensibilities and creative restlessness in these chilled-out synth tracks that are at the core of each player's best work with their respective bands.

TV Priest are still working on an individual sound judging from My Other People, and at the same time they're growing into a more accomplished and interesting band; their obvious talent makes them an act only a fool would ignore.

Much like 1999, 2000 is a showcase of musically rich throwback production, with jazz-flecked instrumentals and smooth boom-bap beats backdropping Joey's controlled bars and lyrics of New York City life.

Their renderings of "Don't Worry Baby" and "Wouldn't It Be Nice" may be ramshackle, but much like the originals, they're delivered with unguarded joy and wide-eyed innocence.

The album taps out at 25 minutes, but it's urgent enough that it clearly makes its point within that time frame.

Despite the dark undercurrents of the songs, the music doesn't try to fight the mood so much as it allows us to hear about a world where, in spite of the chaos outside, there's some simple beauty to be found even as things fall apart.

While typically low-key and rustic in nature, with touches of (mostly) atmospheric keyboards and electronics, the album is further distinguished by the use of brief instrumentals that make up about one-third of its extensive track list.

It would have been more interesting if 30 Something dug a little deeper into Orbital's catalog, but as it is, it's a good balance of nostalgia and futurism, and a treat for longtime fans.

Much of the album follows this complex formula of heavy emotions and sunny sounds, with Lauv finding a way to turn his dark memories, bad trips, and deepest regrets into something digestible and light.

Promise of the Real give Noise & Flowers the muscle the music needs, which means the album never sounds nostalgic or stiff: it's a warm celebration of the music made while Elliot Roberts stood by Neil Young's side.

Stars like Chris Brown, Shenseea, and Asake join him here and there, but for the most part, the collaborations are underplayed, leaving the spotlight where it belongs: on DML's silky vocals and mellow grooves.

Despite its occasional unevenness, the album is exciting in both its moments of audience-tested hitmaking and when Megan cracks the veneer of her invincible persona to share feelings that are difficult, messy, and real.

His most elaborately designed work to date, Cry Sugar incorporates grandiose strings, gospel choirs, and soulful wails into its fractured, chest-rattling beatscapes. Channeling the highs of formative clubgoing experiences, the best tracks on the record feature giddy synth melodies and overloaded drum patterns, along with ecstatic vocals.

This is also a fine example of the philosophy of "If it ain't broke, don't fix it," and Get Fucked shows the Chats know what they do best and are here to deliver good obnoxious fun.

It's Donnelly's strong songwriting voice -- both in terms of core music and lyrics -- that dominates here and is likely to re-engage fans.

Overstuffed remix collections like this are hit and miss by nature, but Bigger. Messier. acknowledges this with its very title, and its impressive cast takes the original songs in some fascinating directions, making the whole thing worthwhile for fans of any of the artists involved.

Leaving Why Bonnie's previous home-brewed and indie pop leanings behind, 90 in November and its solid songs mark a confident step forward into the domain of dreamy, twang-infused rock.

The slower, foggier, harmony-rich "Ofrenda-Flanger-Ego-à Gogo" is a more coherent entry, if utterly psychedelic, although most of the rest of Freeway Lucifer follows the example of the first song, expressing overwhelmed thoughts through a shape-shifting and ultimately surprisingly (if not entirely) listenable and cathartic sequence of tracks.

Earth Patterns rewards patience with some positively searing moments.

While arguably overlong, The Painter not only feels heartfelt on occasion but offers just enough variety, mainly through its guests, to sidestep sameyness while sticking to his signature sound. Trivia of note: Orbit also did the album's painterly artwork.

There was never any doubt that Bret McKenzie knew how to write a good song, and on Songs Without Jokes, he's more than capable of doing so outside of the framework of an outwardly imposed narrative or feeling obligated to make the listener laugh.

If you're a historically minded Lou Reed completist, Words & Music, May 1965 is a must. Others are advised to approach with caution and keep their expectations in check.

The Invisible Light: Spells is the sound of a man mounting a soapbox with a desire to make us turn away from our worst impulses, and the heartfelt focus of his message and the imagination of the music that frames it make it far too compelling to ignore.

Art Moore's ten meticulously sculpted tracks balance sadness and hope, softening the blow of Vick's lyrical gut-punches with glistening sonics and gentle musical counterpoint.

Though it lacks the well-edited flow of Heartbreak, it shows Unloved can still push pop's boundaries with vivid results.

A much more concise record than the sprawling, jazzy The Return, As Above similarly celebrates heritage and culture while looking inward and discussing personal issues.

Dense and sometimes overwhelming, Arrangements is a testament to Preoccupations' willingness to stay in their discomfort zone and document everything that happens. This time, however, the results are admirable but not always easy to connect with.

From the cumbia-inspired opener, "Blacklight Shine," and the skittering "Flash Burns from Flashbacks" to the power ballad "Vigil," the veteran band sound confident and invigorated, adding another surprising chapter to a consistently eclectic career.

Anchored by Blake Mills' tasteful and creative production, the ten-song set feels like a small step forward for Mumford. It's both rooted in the past and primed for the future, like an exorcism gone right.

Their shortest salvo to date, Sunrise on Slaughter Beach distills all that's good in late-era Clutch, providing a familiar hit of serotonin and physical release.

Things Happen That Way is solid, fun, and a bit sad, but a fitting, heartfelt sign-off from an American treasure. It's quite beautiful. One hopes, however, that the deleted tracks will surface on a later release.

While lyrically bleak, Gulp! delivers its pessimism with fist-pumping enthusiasm for the most part, at least until the meditative, Kinks-evoking closer "Light Industry" emphasizes life's repetition on the album's one true outlier, like a final wink and a nod.

Only time will tell, but at this point Courting are delivering some smart, bracing fun that will keep you guessing in plenty of good ways.

Doggerel pushes the boundaries of what a Pixies album can be, but not aggressively -- quite the opposite, in fact. The peaks may not be quite as high as they were on Beneath the Eyrie, but it's still a lot of fun to hear the band's reinvention.

Wave's formula of recounting painful memories and reflecting on how far he's come on the road to stardom starts to wear a little thin midway through Beautiful Mind, but he switches things up enough with the unexpected R&B vocal samples of "No Deal" and the booming, anthemic arrangement of "Mafia" to keep things moving along.

Some tracks work better than others, but the album ends on an impressive note with the open, ringing distortion of "Or Head On."

The End, So Far may not be a home run, but it proves that the band are still in it to win it, even if they're playing the long game.

Grander in scope than Gibbs' rightly praised single-producer efforts, $oul $old $eparately is nearly as consistent, as the project is driven by his unyielding focus.

A like-minded, generally uplifting, uptempo set (this time comprising a still generous 12 songs).

Even if The Will to Live ultimately proves the old adage that you can't will a masterpiece into existence, what's here is the work of a great band with a fine songwriter giving their all in the studio and playing at the top of their game, and that makes it a great listen, if not quite an example of Ultimate Rock.

This is Sherwood's album more than Andy's, experimenting wildly with his dub mixes with all the abandon of an excitable kid at recess. This willingness to go off the deep end makes Midnight Scorchers an enjoyable ride, but it's not quite the essential listen that the original album was.

It may be a bit disjointed, but Into the Blue offers enough thoughtful songwriting and creative sonics to suggest Broken Bells has matured into the pleasantly offbeat side project it was always meant to be.

If Forever Blue was a great debut, As the Moon Rests is a very good follow-up, and leaves no doubt that A.A. Williams is a remarkable talent who is still honoring her singular vision.

One of Eno's most sobering releases, FOREVERANDEVERNOMORE is a cautious reflection on the state of our planet and its future.

With ¡Ay!, Dalt succeeds at constructing and exploring an elaborate sound world that resembles a surreal reflection of her past.

While some of the record's lyrics are lost in ambiance, Ballentine's ethereal vocals are a key component of an artful sound design that, like a movie, is optimized in its full-length context.

Turner seems to be angling for atmosphere, not hooks, with his melodies. The free-floating croon helps The Car amiably drift in space but it also highlights how the record could use a couple of elements to bring it back to earth.

Only Built for Infinity Links is an energetic, fun, and multifaceted project from Migos members Quavo and Takeoff that stays lively and keeps away from the type of filler that can drag down mainstream rap albums and mixtapes.

The reliably uncompromising Omens includes some of the band's heaviest and most apoplectic works to date, with highlights arriving via the pummeling "Nevermore" and "Greyscale," and the unrelenting title cut.

It's impressive how purposefully murky the band can make this music feel when you notice that the tracks are actually pretty coherent, with imaginative layers of sound working in support of the songs, and the passage of time hasn't robbed them of their spirit or significantly bent vision. Apocalypse Love is as weird as it wants to be, and coming from this band, that's always welcome.

The sleekness calls to mind the Strokes, as does the guitar interplay. It's definitely an avenue the band might want to explore more if they get tired of unhinged rock & roll. Not that they needed to change; they could keep putting out records like this -- filled with energy and a tiny bit of polish -- and it would be a long time until the Murlocs got stale.

By the end, the album both feels like an inevitable destination from prior albums and represents an excellent entry point for the uninitiated.

King Gizzard are never less than compelling and even when their concepts are modest, they deliver a final product that's psychedelic pop/rock/funk/soul/prog/what have you at it's very best.

With the exception of the over-five-minute, tempo-shifting "Empty Head," the songs here are still short and bittersweet and still distinctly Frankie Cosmos, but there's a little less bounce in their gait and more weight to them on the whole, as Kline negotiates self-examination, affection, regret, and apprehension.

No one who is a fan of Haines' previous work is likely to be disappointed with All the Kids Are Super Bummed Out, and he's fortunate to have found a collaborator in Peter Buck, who makes music as strong, idiosyncratic, and witty as the lyrics they support.

Rarely deviating from a mix of elation and stupefaction, Cometa doesn't have the range of emotions examined on Green Twins and Will This Make Me Good, but frayed-nerve howls, phrases of distress -- anything other than loved-up susurration -- would have disturbed the groove.

Pawns & Kings adds another reliable and tightly crafted volume to Alter Bridge's robust canon.

The whole album is something of a surprise and the band make it work by wisely exploring both sides of the disco coin. Thanks to the care they put into the sound and the strength of the songs, they pull off their latest transformation smoothly.

Throughout the album, dal Forno reveals many intimate thoughts but still suggests much more.

Apart from "Zone 1 (24 Hours)," the selections are generally brief and concise, and the shortest ones sometimes feel like sketches that could've been developed further. Still, the techno side of Mount Kimbie is just as creative as the pop/R&B/hip-hop side, and both halves of MK 3.5 contain several gems.

The closest thing here to a track that one could imagine being played through speakers instead of headphones is "Where to Put the Pain," which fashions a skittering ambient pop still very much in line with the rest of the album's design, for a set that's very unlikely to disappoint established fans.

L.S. Dunes' defiant, topical, and anthemic sound draws from a wide array of punk and hardcore subgenres.

While it sometimes feels like the duo could have done more with the album's concept, it's still a unique experience, and could very well signal a shift in how the visionaries approach their craft.

Standouts aside, Profound Mysteries III feels like the weakest link in this ambitious, year-long project which, while exciting to behold, probably could have been condensed into a one exceptional album.

Due to its length (nearly 50 minutes), cerebral constitution, and tenuous songs structures, SAP can take some effort on the part of the listener by the end, although its unpredictability, enveloping intimacy and creative restlessness are just as likely to engage.

The album does a masterful job of presenting Wand's powers as a live act, with the songs sounding every bit as strong as their studio counterparts, and often much more exciting.

Now that they're veterans, Nickelback doesn't try so hard to be heavy, nor do they indulge in their tasteless side: they're craftsmen who know how to deliver the goods, which--on its own terms--Get Rollin' certainly does.

Part singer/songwriter folk, part 19th century chamber song (one track is called "Tone Pome"), and part ambient score, the album arguably climaxes with the theatrical "Wash It Away," which most dramatically combines all of the above -- although the elegant, tonic-shifting, harp-accented closer, "Maya, Please," also does little to readjust listeners to the material world.

Repetition and rumination are frequent throughout Choosing, as Jamieson ultimately makes a message of the album's economical title. While this lends itself to a certain amount of musical stagnancy, some changes of pace unfold along the way in the form of the catchy "Runner," which begins with spare electric guitar and voice but progresses at a tuneful, accelerating gallop.

Only a few select moments that are more illuminated provide enough clarity to give you an idea of where things are going. Still, the drive for exploration is what makes the voyage worth taking, and rRoxymore's music eludes easy comparison.

Heroes & Villains is the worthy and meticulously assembled sequel to Not All Heroes Wear Capes.

Featuring production from P2J, Kel-P, Sammy Soso, and others, it's an able follow-up to its breakout predecessor.

The results are naturally a bit scattered sonically, as any record featuring Steve Vai and the Roots would inevitably be, yet it's tied together by Rundgren's aural aesthetic and sense of mischief.

Despite Four's gentility and lyricism, it is a striking, intimate, and abundantly creative exercise in modern jazz interaction and improvisation.

All told, Prize acts as a companion album to What a Boost, further distinguishing Plain's idiosyncratic sound.

Snoop Cube 40 $hort is largely a funky good time.

Sakamoto died two months after 12 was released, and being aware that it was his final work adds emotional weight to music that appears fragile and delicate.

This carefully constructed introspection does fulfill Rowntree's intention of Radio Songs mimicking the shape-shifting nature of late-night listening, acting as an aural journey to an astral plane.

Electrophonic Chronic plays like an old-fashioned long-player instead of a stack of 45s, a heady experience that nevertheless is anchored in R&B. Maybe the thrills aren't as immediate as they are on Yours, Dreamily, yet the free-floating psychedelic soul is alluring, as well as a worthy tribute to Swift.

Every Acre is H.C. McEntire's third solo album, and with each release she has demonstrated that she's a major talent who deserves to be recognized by anyone with a taste for a well-told story of one woman's life.

The album is a grower, and its odd confluence of reference points is better absorbed than examined. Getting too caught up on the particulars how U.K. folk and jangly college rock fit together only distracts from the Tubs' neat presentation of their first batch of deceptively complex and solidly constructed tunes.