A difficult, but defining statement, made at the height of their powers.

Gore and Gahan transform tragedy into something profound and universally relatable. Though not their most immediate offering, Memento Mori is their most heartfelt, thoughtful, and moving statement in decades.

So Much (For) the Stardust is a gloriously welcome return to form.

Lana Del Rey has honed a style so unique she’s almost a genre unto herself. Full of brilliant strides forward, Ocean Blvd. is a crucial chapter in Del Rey’s ongoing saga of heartbreak and enchantment.

While the energy level feels drastically different between the album's clubbier first half and its slower second, Friday's music is always dramatic, honest, and futuristic.

Closing on the soaring, bittersweet ballad "Performer," Black joins the ranks of other pop chameleons on an impressive and engaging reinvention.

Drag on Girard isn't a minute too long or too short. It's another invigorating chapter in Purling Hiss' ongoing saga, and their scraggly guitar rock is in its finest and most exciting form for the album's entire duration.

Under an Endless Sky is not the United States of America, nor does it need to be. This is music that confirms Dorothy Moskowitz is a seeker looking forward, and what she sees is well worth hearing.

September November is a collection of songs that says, "We're Still Here!" a subtle but vitally important difference, and the Long Ryders make us glad that they were alt-country before there was alt-country and haven't thrown in the towel.

On With Love From, Aly & AJ establish themselves as first-class artists, and it will be fascinating to hear where they go from here.

Moving On Skiffle is light and lively, an easy record to enjoy.

Altogether, Ben feels like the first time Macklemore has truly let listeners into his inner world, showcasing his underrated lyrical skills and enough varied production to keep the album moving forward toward a hopeful finish.

An aptly titled set that's more engrossing and intimate despite its much longer procession of guest collaborators.

U2 deliver smooth, polished performances that are handsome and, yes, intimate but not especially compelling. It's stylish background music that sounds a bit like it was designed to be heard in chain coffeehouses during the late 2000s.

Sunrise Bang Ur Head Against tha Wall, her first major-label release, is a more accessible refinement of her already fully formed aesthetic.

At once challenging and inviting, Praise a Lord Who Chews But Which Does Not Consume; (Or Simply, Hot Between Worlds) is another dazzling work from a creative whirlwind. Tumor may never find the answers they're seeking, but hearing their search is exhilarating and inspiring in its own right.

Cyrus will probably never settle on just one or two sounds to express herself, but her voice and vision are strong enough on Endless Summer Vacation to suggest she'll never need to.

Fantasy isn't for the skeptical; Gonzalez demands you dive in with him, and a lot of fans will be happy to take the plunge.

Racing the Storm is a potent return with quality songwriting that nods to her past, but introduces a new element that suits her quite well.

Gracie Abrams focuses in and doubles down on the wispier ruminations of prior EPs, this time in full-on collaboration with This Is What It Feels Like contributor Aaron Dessner, who co-wrote and produced the entire album.

It's just as easy of an album to drift off in thought to as it is to obsess over its patchwork of details and strange coloration, reaching a deeper, more thoughtful expression of the kind of bizarre beauty the band excels at.

Some of the album's most gripping moments directly draw from Holley's storied past. ... The album ends on a puzzling note with "Future Children," in which Holley's gruff intonations are processed into a stark, robotic tone over jittery, post-minimalist recorder sequences.

A maverick saxophonist and sonic experimentalist, Sam Gendel applies his distinctive approach to contemporary R&B hits on his inventive 2023 covers album, COOKUP.

It's perfectly fine that they chose to head backwards to a sound they were familiar with. Aşk is proof that there is plenty of mileage left before the sound, or the band, runs out of gas.

Gumbo isn't worlds removed from any of Young Nudy's previous projects, but it attempts a variety of styles he hasn't focused on before, further expanding an already vast range and continuing a streak of releases that refuse to limit themselves to any one lane.

It both makes the listener feel warmly good and tearfully bad at the same time. That's a satisfying dichotomy and one that's hard to pull off. With Le Bon and his band's help, Evans has done it and in the process made the best H. Hawkline record to date.

Sleaford Mods' range keeps growing along with their success. It's a slightly more disjointed experience than Spare Ribs, but Fearn and Williamson are making music for themselves first and fighting back against evil and stupidity the only way they can.

Dreijer often seems more relaxed and more forthcoming on Radical Romantics than on Fever Ray's previous albums. Fans may have anticipated another epic like Plunge, but the more approachable, more personal choices Dreijer makes here are often just as risky and just as rewarding.

All this radio-ready variety suggested that Wallen wanted to appeal to every audience everywhere, but in the wake of his scandal, this multi-purpose crowd-pleasing suggests an artist who wants to provide the perpetual jukebox within a walled garden.

The Soft Struggles is a delightful addition to the Field Music-adjacent family with plenty of its own personality to set it apart.

It's a lovely album to get lost in, offering sounds which might go unnoticed on the first few spins, but will rise up as repeat listens make Manzanita's insular and mysterious dreamworld a more familiar place.

The lush synths and bubbling beats carry the same wild dreaminess she achieved on songs where she was covering D.I.Y. rock songs in sheets of reverb, and it's more Rose's exacting and specific songwriting design than the instrumentation that makes Love as Projection feel so wonderfully strange, secret-keeping, and exciting.

A copy of Soul'd Out should be in every public library. Stax fanatics will find that it superbly complements the four Complete Stax/Volt Singles boxed sets.

It's a loud, celebratory album that perfectly boils down Birch's 40-plus-year journey as a tireless, boundless, and most of all fearless, creator.

Much like contemporaries Sleeping with Sirens and Bring Me the Horizon, they've changed with the times -- for better or worse, depending on the fan -- and the results are no less immediate and impactful.

The tracks on Quest for Fire go for instant dancefloor gratification, but they're far more refined and nuanced than the brostep ragers that made Skrillex a household name in the early 2010s.

It’s vital and authentic, confident yet emotive, refined in its simplicity; Karol has produced her best work yet.

Few bands of their day, and especially those of the post-punk '80s, are as consistent as the Church at writing songs that sound like more sophisticated and mature versions of their classic material.

Strange Dance is gentle enough to constitute adventurous background listening but complex enough to reward a closer inspection, a curious combination that is not without appeal.

More often than not, he delivers on High Drama, particularly on the insistent glitter march of "Holding Out for a Hero" and a smoldering electro makeover of "Do You Really Want to Hurt Me."

Afterpoem is surprisingly thrilling and wholly original.

This collection wasn't intended to be a memorial, yet this deep dive into one of his last major collaborations pays worthy homage to his skill and dedication to craft, and every moment testifies to Costello's towering respect for the great man.

Through it all, Mason's distinctive voice -- a hushed croon belying a hidden depth of thunder -- give his narratives gravitas and the album's production, a joint effort with London's Tev'n, builds an exciting world to match it. It's another solid effort from one of Scotland's finest.

Stewart, Seo, and Kendrick make every tragedy and outrage feel fresh, and those who thrill when Xiu Xiu are willing to go to the places many artists won't will be awed by Ignore Grief's ferocious empathy.

The low-spirited moments are typically as alluring as the bliss-outs, and though there's a breakup in the mix, Red Moon finishes as Uchis pushes the reset button on a relationship with a strong sense of optimism.

It's clearly a challenging, confrontational album, but it also feels like the artist's purest expression yet.

What's particularly enjoyable about Mehldau's approach is how he keeps each song recognizable while making it his own.

On their debut album, Miss Grit questions norms more artfully than ever.

On Food for Worms, Shame don't so much discard everything that came before as they strip away what doesn't fit anymore. Occasionally, the results are a little muddled, but at its best, the album is a thrilling testament to creative bravery.

Balancing bright, colorful electro-pop with a slight air of melancholy is hardly a new trick for Albarn yet there's a clean, efficient energy propelling Cracker Island that gives the album a fresh pulse.

Travel is very much a Necks album and lines up seamlessly with the trio's vast catalogue. It blossoms with new ideas, fluid spontaneity and fresh ideas. For newcomers curious about the longstanding trio's music, Travel is a truly excellent place to begin.

Should've Learned By Now makes it clear things still aren't always a breeze for them, but they've learned sometimes you just need to plug in that guitar and shake off the bad times as best you can, and they've done so like the great band they are. Put this on, turn it up, and join them in the party.

It's brave, smart, honest, and expressive -- an uncompromised vision from musicians with something to say and the means to say it. It's another triumph from one of the finest, most satisfying bands in the indie underground.

The presence of primitive samples and Casio presets suggest that Khotin has been experimenting with electronic music since youth, but through years of experience, he's now able to produce more finely detailed work while keeping the spirit that inspired him to start creating music in the first place.

It's the band's most dynamic, full-bodied recording to date, and a clear improvement over their somewhat rusty-sounding early releases, moving between lulling spaciousness and cathartic violence.

Bless This Mess is another chapter of U.S. Girls' consistent evolution marked by pristine production and a deft balance of hooks and soul-baring beauty, with Remy pulling off the feat of intertwining some of her most emotionally complex material with what might be her most accessible sounds yet.

On The Vivian Line, he hits the sweet spot between challenging himself and not fixing what isn't broke. It's a gem.

Darker and more assured than its predecessors, Land of Sleeper parses the outrage and catastrophizing of the social media age with gravitas, yet it does so with a watchful and curious eye.

More immediate earworms are scattered throughout to appease anyone looking for a radio-ready hit, but they cede the bulk of the album to more reflective fare that provides a different kind of spiritual nourishment.

It's a great reminder of how weird and one-of-a-kind Avey Tare has always been, and how he's still refreshing his strangeness with every new record.

Consistently theatrical but intimate, the song increases in volume, adding components like strummed guitar and active tom drums as Savage's plea -- "Stop haunting me/Please/Just leave me be" -- gets more insistent. While the rest of in|FLUX maintains that song's often captivating sense of brewing urgency and poignancy, arrangements alter as it passes through even sparser balladry ("I Can Hear the Birds Now," "Hungry"), skittering, full-kit indie rock ("Pavlov's Dog," "Crown Shyness"), the eventual acoustic cacophony of "Say My Name," and an art-funky title track.

Heavy Heavy pulls in the listener with an empathetic lust for life that, whether brimming with optimism, steeling for a threat to survival, or reckoning with a perceived futility of existence, somehow never wavers.

Liv.e's growth as an artist has been remarkable, and the vivid self-portrait Girl in the Half Pearl is her most impressive work so far.

Even at their most dystopian, Orbital never lose their excitement for exploring new sounds, and Optical Delusion doesn't get bogged down in cynicism or nostalgia.

The holistic, evolutionary approach and stellar performances on Dance Kobina make it Chambers' finest as a leader for Blue Note.

The end results feel curiously constrained, as if Twain was dancing in front of a mirror instead of underneath a mirrorball.

The set list offers few surprises -- if you don't recognize a song, that's because it's a new tune added to GRRR! -- but the Stones are in fine form, never seeming tired of playing the hits in a fashion that guarantees a splendid time for one and all.

As it boils down, Like..? presents a new artist finding their voice, showing promise in some moments, and losing traction in others.

Shauf clearly didn't want to repeat himself, and he hasn't, even though the soft suede of his voice still dominates the tracks, seeming even stronger when his characters are in emotional retreat. One might be tempted to play this story for laughs, and it's commendable this album feels straightforward and sincere, even at its least plausible and possibly blasphemous.

Her lilting, rough-hewn cadence carries with it the weight, strength, and spry humor of her homeland, and her storytelling rings true and grounded, even at its most mystic and confounding.

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.

None of these uninhibited songs could have been half as convincing voiced by another singer. That said, it's evident that she's using her platform to speak for others who have lived through anything remotely similar.

Pollen is yet more proof that Tennis make the kind of music that feels comforting and exciting at the same time. It's rare that a band can ever manage to find that magical sweet spot, even more amazing that a band can hold steady right in the middle of it for as long as they have.

Dynamic is just what it is -- these songs show Weiss is again living up to her status as one of the best rock drummers on the planet. ... The songs are splendid, full of clever, catchy melodies, and Coomes' dramatic delivery is a great vehicle for his often topical and always quotable lyrics, taking on a variety of political and social maladies with a wit that's as charming as it is venomous.

Yo La Tengo have been doing what they do long enough that they know and trust their process, and This Stupid World doesn't seem radically different from their work of the last 10 or 15 years. That said, this music feels warmer and more emotionally satisfying than anything YLT have given us since 2009's Popular Songs.

Constant if fluid oscillations between diaphanous ballads, pulsing slow jams, and modern street soul bangers are just as suited for the greater number of songs based in relationships. The water and flotation metaphors keep flowing, too. ... In several other songs, Kelela is dealing with a lover who is noncommittal, elusive, and inexpressive. They're just as affecting.

Just when you think they've hit an artistic plateau, they take another creative leap into the unknown, only to return with what feels like a deeper, more heartfelt statement of who they are. With This Is Why, Paramore underline that notion, pulling the artistic and emotional threads of their career into a cohesive, ardent whole.

While there are moments of quiet reflection and affection here, Paul still embraces dissonant alt-rock textures on parts of the album, including on opener "My Blood Runs Through This Land," a noisy, borderline shoegaze-metal entry with menacing chords and barely intelligible lyrics.

Eye of I showcases the immediacy and range in Lewis' musical imagination in composition, improvisation, and communication with a freer, more immediately instinctive persona on full display. All killer, no filler.

The album was reportedly rush-released due to hackers threatening to leak the album unless he paid them a million dollars; the album wasn't fully mixed yet, making it seem raw and unfinished. (Trippie stated plans to later release a cleaned-up mix of the album.) On top of its sheer roughness, the album is as bloated as 2020's Pegasus, lasting 76 minutes and 25 songs.

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.

A meeting of the minds that will satisfy and excite fans of either or both artists, Colours of Air is a testament to Morgan and English's artistry that grows richer with each listen.

The follow-up, Portrait of a Dog, leans more heavily into jazz influences, including instrumental explorations and improvisation, while still processing the familial and adding a breakup to the mix.

The songs are honest, deep, and direct, but never heavy-handed. Mostly, The Candle and the Flame finds Forster taking stock of his long and storied life, and grasping at some of the many moments of love and beauty he experienced along the way.

It's largely unobtrusive and serviceable, distinguished mostly by Smith's elastic voice and increased specificity and complexity to the reflective and romantic songs.

Furling never feels like a mixed bag, primarily due to the control with which she moves through her songs. The softer acoustic folk tunes and heavier, more far-reaching dives into piano and densely stacked arrangement all feel like similar parts of a whole, and the album flutters by beautifully like an unbothered mind wandering through various thoughts on a sunny day.

The first Get Up Sequence showed that the Go! Team was firmly back on the course they embarked on with Thunder, Lightning, Strike; the second might just be its equal. It certainly has the right sound, the right songs, and the same sense of bonkers experimentalism and life-affirming spirit to be at least in the running.

Tightening up some loose ends might have made The Waeve more cohesive, but at its best, it's elegant, unpredictable music made for the sheer rejuvenating pleasure of it.

Let's Start Here. may be more loud guitars than 808s, but Lil Yachty still commands the songs powerfully, making vessels of expression out of whatever sounds he chooses.

Deftly executed and ideal for repeat listens, Diamonds & Dancefloors makes it two-for-two for Max's catalog, delivering on the promise of her debut and pushing her even further toward the top of the early-2020s pop pantheon.

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.

In some ways, Compositions feels more like a film score than other Deathprod albums, not quite resembling variations on a theme, but aurally illustrating a specific scene with each track. Unfortunately, nothing here really expands past being interesting sounds or settings, and these pieces don't elevate to the haunting, mesmerizing level of Deathprod's best work.

Heavier than ever, Oozing Wound find no resolution or peace with these songs, but continue banging their heads against the wall in beautiful fits of rage and exhilaration.

It's that feeling of needing to get out of the house and away from your family, or perhaps yourself, that We Are Scientists distill with lab precision on Lobes.

With Say I Won't, Bass Drum of Death evoke the sweaty album rock of the '70s, infusing it with an undeniably raw and sultry immediacy all their own.

Aided by Ashworth's sure hand, the new leaf Thomas turns over here means that Smalltown Stardust is just as good a mellow, meaningful King Tuff album as Was Dead is a rollicking, down and dirty rock record. Which is to say, really, really good indeed.

It's an intelligent, compassionate, heartfelt album from a man who knows how to make them, and we should all be as grateful as Joe Henry that he's around to sing these songs.

It's as viscerally effective as anything Fucked Up have ever recorded and smart enough to speak to the mind as well as the heart. If this is what the band can do in just one day, imagine what they could have done if they'd given themselves a week.