The fascinating continuous dialogue between her interests and own music is further demonstrated to ecstatic effect here.

While technically a companion work to 2020's A Celebration of Endings, Biffy Clyro's ninth studio album, the emotionally sanguine The Myth of Happily Ever After, stands on its own.

The energy throughout the album is so steady and positive that, even at a low volume, it can have a pacifying effect on the soul.

Observatory is a satisfying listen and deserves to be heard on its own merits. On whether or not it will appease longtime Wrens fans as a vestige of a long-promised return, the jury remains out.

Buckley's arrangements of Weller's canny self-curation help give An Orchestrated Songbook a subtle but palpable emotional resonance that separates it from other orchestral pop reworkings, not to mention the heavy number of Weller live albums.

Happily, the loose performances more than suit these ragged compositions, turning Barn into a snapshot of this moment in time: a bunch of old friends in isolation, finding solace and comfort in the noise they can still make.

Highway Butterfly is remarkable because there isn't a weak song or performance included.

Like nearly all of Calix's music, absent origin is complex and challenging, but it reflects an unmistakably unique perspective on the world.

This is still a smart, powerful rock band with sharp wit and an abundance of well-deserved confidence -- but the added details and textures make a difference, and this music points to a more interesting future for them than one might have imagined after Femejism.

"All These Days" is an atmospheric skyscraper that recalls '80s indie even if it has a shimmering modern sheen, and "Ariel" offers a slight sense of sweetness to close out an EP that functions as a good teaser for the full album while also working well as its own mini-LP.

Projector is an impressive debut and all-around solid effort from a band at the start of a promising career.

It's an exciting album that comes on with such subtlety it's easy to miss how immaculately constructed it is the first several times through.

As grim as the album seems, something constantly pulls it back from sinking into utter despair, and the majestic closer "Stonefruit" feels nothing less than triumphant.

If the first volume of the Joni Mitchell Archives tracked the development of an artist finding her voice, Volume 2 illuminates the creative process from a time when that voice was reaching its zenith.

As lovingly recorded and meditative as it is, Island of Noise doesn't break much new ground for Modern Nature. ... That said, there is much to enjoy within this latest chapter.

It's a bittersweet and ultimately satisfying end to a hugely ambitious project that always remains true to the emotions driving it -- but Arca fans would expect nothing less.

Though combining contrasting elements in her music is usually one of her greatest strengths, hearing Arca concentrate on kick iiii's hyperreal sensuality and vulnerability makes it a crucial part of the Kick anthology.

On its own, KicK iii may have the smallest range of any of the project's volumes, but its relentlessness is a key part of the anthology that provides lots of fascinating moments for those who love Arca at her most outlandish.

Even though Arca narrows her focus on Kick ii, it's still the product of an artist who can't help but break boundaries as she creates the space she needs to innovate.

While much of the album is taken up by experimental mood pieces like these, there's also a significant number of sprawling, progressive tracks.

The remix collection is considerably more fragmented than the cohesive original, but it's no less forward-thinking, and is well worth the time of anyone who was bowled over by the proper album.

Unity feels richly varied instead of disjointed, and it's a testament to Wood and Day's creativity that they're still finding fresh ways to express themselves this far into their career.

It often feels like they're delighted that they're making an album that lives up to their debut, and it's hard not to share their thrill.

It might take some time for Flying Dream 1 to fully grab you, but when it does, the album's measured, artful introspection is hard to shake.

As a snapshot of this crucial turning point in the Radiohead discography, Kid A Mnesia presents a band taking its first steps into a thrilling new phase, one that would alter their trajectory and push them further into the unknown.

TRU may have announced to the indie rock world at large that Ovlov had arrived; Buds lets everyone know they are here to stay.

The term "triumphant return" might be thrown around too casually, but it certainly applies to I Thought of You.

Toy features Bowie revisiting a bunch of songs he wrote in the '60s, most written and recorded prior to "Space Oddity." Hearing Bowie apply Hours aesthetics to swinging, mod-ish material is odd but mildly appealing; it's a slight record but it's nice to have it as part of the official discography. The rest of the box follows a familiar and comforting pattern, confirming that the '90s were a bit of a creative resurgence for Bowie.

These are wild, protean hard rock songs rooted in psychedelic folk and delivered with Green Man-worthy gusto. What's not to love?

While Brown's songwriting isn't always as sharply honed as it's been in the past, Time Flies is a fine example of just how much fun, and how therapeutic, well-crafted pop can be.

Happily, he retains the melodic sharpness that characterized 57th & 9th, his last solo album of straight-forward pop tunes. The Bridge isn't quite as crisp and clean as that 2016 effort, yet it moves along at a quick clip.

Gordon and Nace never followed an obvious path with Body/Head's prior releases, but bringing in Dilloway presents entirely new possibilities that they use with fascinating, often haunting results on Body/Dilloway/Head.

It doesn't aim to reproduce the ebb and flow of his usual concert experience, instead aiming for an all-killer, no-filler experience, and it leaves no doubt why the audience got so caught up in this music.

His own hope for Deciphering the Message is to point new listeners toward the originals. As wonderful as that intention is, this album is a phenomenal listening experience in its own right.

Somewhere in the second half of this hour-plus album, the mostly sedate sequence of productions -- some without beats, others with dragging trap-styled percussion -- make for laborious listening. The trade-off is Walker's vivid and biting lyrics and knack for singing them with such grace that they please the ear as much as they raise eyebrows.

Windflowers is a wonder of detailed production and easy elegance, though it also suffers from a sameness in tone that dulls its overall impact. It's certainly comfortable, and maybe that was Efterklang's intent, but they are at their best when throwing in the occasional left-turn or sonic shake-up.

It's too relaxed, too casual to be considered major. Its low-key nature is also the appeal of Willie Nelson Family -- it's the sound of an informal jam session by one of the best musical families in America, so it's easy to enjoy even if it feels decidedly minor.

The highlight of these is a ten-minute version of "All Too Well," a bitter ballad that was already one of the peaks of Red and is now turned into an epic kiss-off. This, along with excavated songs, are reason enough for Swift to revisit Red and they, not the re-recordings, are the reason to return to Red [Taylor's Version].

Meeting titanic expectations, this linear journey of the heart is Adele's most cohesive statement to date, pairing her inimitable voice with a dozen engrossing vignettes, reminding us that all we can do is keep trying.

The result of these tweaks to both production and attitude is something more mature and approachable yet still impassioned, and it's Slothrust's most cohesive record to date.

Mandatory Enjoyment is much more than a dusty museum piece, and while Dummy may be proudly retro, like their heroes Stereolab they make their love of the past sound brand new and exciting.

Though it's just over 20 minutes long, In Virus Times has plenty of the experimental openness and welcoming warmth of Ranaldo's other solo work for Mute, and artfully approximates the feeling of a live improvisation during a time when concerts were difficult at best.

Even when the bagpipes show up on "Welcome Tae Glasgae," Motorheart is all riffs and falsetto screams designed to forget reality and dream of crowds packed with headbanging, beer-soaked hedonists singing along to the same songs.

A mesmerizing 11-song set that pairs bracing hardcore with expansive symphonic and post-metal.

Pilgrimage of the Soul is at once a sonic portrait of everything Mono has ever been, yet looks toward a future rife with possibilities as increased physical and sonic force are tempered by graceful subtlety, tense drama, and haunted lyricism.

Funky bass and Fender Rhodes are among the featured instruments on songs that feel jammier than his first two albums, though the mood remains mellow and languid, at least for the most part.

Consistently entertaining with a few flashes of brilliance, Book kicks off the band's fifth decade of music-making with substance and style.

Thanks to their renewed focus, their willingness to embrace new ideas, Cleveland's songs, and the symbiotic relationship between the group and Younge, this feels like a fresh start for the band and some of the best psychedelic rock around in the early 2020s.

Unhurried and stark without being austere, The Nearer the Fountain, More Pure the Stream Flows seems suspended from time but not place: as misty and evocative as it is, the music is grounded in a specific location, which gives this elegiac, enveloping album an emotional weight.

While Imposter doesn't get the blood pumping as much as 2015's Angels & Ghosts, fans in need of a soundtrack for brooding will find this to be an ideal outlet.

Garbology isn't nearly as complex or conceptually driven as 2020's Spirit World Field Guide, but it still contains an abundance of memorable lyrics, and demonstrates Aesop's talent for spinning fantastic stories out of nothing.

Both a reflective sound bath and an ecstatic celebration of creative freedom, Space 1.8 is a singular, eye-opening debut.

The changes are subtle and even though the group's sound is a little less thrillingly raw here, they make up for it with stranger melodies and vocals. Overall, a solid effort from a band with the potential to make a great record someday.

The duo's playfulness here verges on hammy at times -- more often than on their solo recordings. The trade-off is that they push each other into new levels of showmanship without pandering to the audience. Besides, there's some genuinely witty stuff here.

The polish and punch of latter-day Dan remain, but things are indeed different. Becker's tart presence is missed, Fagen's voice is wispy, and the smooth professionalism does indeed seem as if it was designed to feel at home at venues like the Mohegan Sun casino.

Time Clocks slowly comes into focus after the short atmospheric instrumental "Pilgrimage" sets the stage for a moody, cinematic record.

While Public Storage doesn't represent the songwriter's hookiest material, its affecting album-length presentation lingers -- emotionally and sonically -- nonetheless.

Heavy Load Blues is raw, heavy, and immediate, the sound of a band unfettered while pursuing a deep blue groove that never quits.

The sacred has always sat comfortably with the profane in Rod Stewart's art, and he's holding true to that on The Tears of Hercules, an album that's alternately baffling, absurd, sweet, and endearing.

Whilst it doesn't always stick the landing, the new spaces it does explore are well worth the journey.

With a more engaging set of songs, Barnett might easily transpose herself into the mode of introspective singer/songwriter, but alas, Things Take Time, Take Time just feels a little too dull.

The detailing and variable arrangements here, combined with engaging songs, lift A Way Forward above the level of genre exercise, occasionally into something more compositional, as on the final two tracks.

Music for Psychedelic Therapy isn't as overwhelming as Hopkins' previous two albums, but it's still an enlightening trip inspired by a lifetime of profound experiences.

Everyone involved shines, but for Wasser, it's a feather in her cap and an excellent way to kick off the next phase in what continues to be an exciting career.

Rundle has tempered her sweeping post-rock cinematics with lyrical vulnerability in the past, but Engine of Hell is a braver and bolder beast, as it lays bare the soul of its creator and dares the listener to reckon with it.

Still Sucks stands as a fun and highly enjoyable addition to the band's discography, delivering exactly what a Limp Bizkit listener wants to hear.

You Get It All does practically everything a Hayes Carll album should do just right, and its unpretentious excellence makes it one of the best and most satisfying albums he's released to date.

At the age of 63, Billy Bragg is not a young man anymore, and The Million Things That Never Happened reflects that but in a way that reveals new themes and thinking in his lyrics; it's a brave, smart, and effective set of songs.

It's never sappy but offers a message of spiritual succor to those who need it, and it's a great, rewarding listening.

The combination of the airiness of the arrangements and the warmth of Mann's performance is wistfully hopeful, turning Queens of the Summer Hotel into a record that soothes and consoles during moments of uncertainty.

Outperforming what was an impressive debut, Which Way to Happy takes its immersive qualities to another level.

By the time they close with the fiery Motown vamp "Love Don't," Rateliff and his band have covered a nice range of moods on what is their most diverse release yet.

Missteps prevent Voyage from being a triumph yet they are true to the rest of ABBA's catalog so, in a sense, they're welcome. If ABBA didn't have cheeseball moments, they wouldn't be ABBA, so it's reassuring that the group brings the lows along with the highs on this unexpected and delightful album.

Conviction is always evident in her soothing voice, even when it's modulated to a jarring extent or sounds somewhat garbled.

Confident, inward-looking, forgiving, yet bruising in all the right places, it's not just a great album by Cantrell's standards; it's a great record, period.

Titling her second album Water, she acknowledges that she's in her element, and more assured of her work than ever. Post-transition, her voice has developed into a more delicate yet deeply expressive instrument, and her soaring vocals magnificently blend with her rumbling beats and atmospheric, neo-classical arrangements.

A pair of mellower tracks near the end, the dembow-inspired "All My Friends Know" and the lush, string-laden "Nineteen," are more restrained yet just as considered and affectionate, pointing to a potential direction for an artist whose emergence was one of the most welcome left-field surprises of 2021.

Here, Sheeran's melodies are soft yet insistent, and the production glistens with flair borrowed from younger, hipper artists who mine a similar blend of retro new wave and modern R&B, but he knows how to turn this stylish sound into something cozy and reassuring.

Taken together, Valentine represents both a bold musical step and a signal that Jordan is ready to move on in more ways than one, at the same time that it leaves some of her distinctiveness behind.

They're still blazingly idiosyncratic, but in taming the sprawling improvisations of the past, they've discovered their pop acumen.

Whatever his method of delivery, Meek sounds like he's walking a tightrope with his head on a swivel.

At their best, they entrance to such an extent, like watching a slalom skier at half-speed, that the plainly worded sex talk is as inconsequential as any random boast about wealth. Toliver sounds anesthetized more often here.

Punk is relatively odd for an album that debuted at number one on the charts, sneaking some of Young Thug's inherent eccentricity in among its more commercially viable moments.

Throughout it all, Carlos Santana plays vibrant, vigorous guitar and he sounds as engaged playing with Corey Glover or Kirk Hammett as he does a posthumous Chick Corea. That these diverse strands don't quite get threaded together is OK: as a collection of moments, Blessings and Miracles does the job.

While more structured songs such as "Ship to Shore" and "Preoccupation" are also among the album's strongest moments, Fast Idol is all about mood, and it's got plenty to spare.

The record is at its best when it's close to an old-fashioned duet album.

Lone always manages to go back in time and see things as they never truly were, and Always Inside Your Head is an immersive venture into the realm of fantasy and magic.

Much of Blue Banisters has this kind of casual, first-take energy, and functions more like a mixtape than an album as Del Rey cultivates a sustained atmosphere, but still makes room to try out new ideas and inject some unexpected moves into her established sound.

The Path of the Clouds was constructed by Nadler sending frameworks of songs to long-distance collaborators; Seth Manchester (Lightning Bolt, Battles, METZ) later mixed the album after judiciously adding feedback and distorted guitars. These adjustments perfectly suit the album's epic, aching songs, which refuse to keep tragedy at arm's length.

Whereas Fyah relied on jazz and funk as twin lines of harmonic and rhythmic inquiry, Intra-I multiplies their import by strategically locating them inside a far deeper, wider mix to create an original music that looks squarely at the future.

Given its mercurial disposition and fleeting playing time -- nothing here reaches the three-minute mark -- Lily We Need to Talk Now ultimately feels like a sampler, if one that whets the appetite for more.

While Hushed and Grim tracks the stages of grief, it also reflects on the soul's journey after death. Musically, Mastodon illuminate the emotional heft of their subject matter in gorgeously architected compositions rendered with abundant creativity, massive power, and searing honesty.

Like Native Invader before it, Ocean to Ocean is a late-era standout for Amos, who reaches through the dark cloud of collective grief to be that supportive presence for listeners, healing with familiar touches and a timely message.

On top of the more accessible production, this record also boasts some of Granduciel's most immediate songs, making it some of the best work from a band with a near-spotless track record.

Absence is a mutative and nuanced album, but one which rewards both casual listening and extended deep dives.

Cracks is an illuminating exploration of cyclical energy, both inside and outside the body.

Duran Duran are taking some calculated risks here which sometimes means they stumble -- occasionally, the ballads feel a shade strident -- but the restlessness makes for a kinetic, exciting album.

Tour de force might be too weighty a term for an album so seemingly effortless, but from its unhurried flow to its wealth of songs, Far In is a glorious showcase for all the aspects of Helado Negro's music.