Despite the fractured path to its creation, Two Ribbons is Hollingworth and Walton's most cohesive album yet. They've grown just far enough apart to be themselves, and they've come together to make something equally beautiful and meaningful.

[A] mesmerizing debut.

Despite the fact that this is the fifth album completed in six years, Statik Selektah's Extended Play doesn't seem sloppily thrown together. Instead, it's a dense, imaginative outing that pays tribute to classic East Coast hip-hop lovingly.

On spirityouall, McFerrin does what he has always done as an artist -- he makes this troubled world shine bright as a diamond.

Overall, Movements lives up to its name perfectly, moving listeners to get on the dancefloor, moving them to feel something real, and moving We Have Band right up to the top echelon of modern dance-rock acts.

Standards finds Cole at a place of razor-sharp renewal. He uses the past unapologetically yet vitally, and delivers a record fans will find both irresistibly familiar and firmly of this moment in his career.

V is a raucous, incendiary portrait of the band's maturity; it's creative and expertly crafted, an exploratory step further into an unknown that refuses to compromise or forsake its established sonic footprint or identity.

In widening the lens, LeBlanc has taken his Springsteen-esque narratives out of the woodshed and onto the open road, and has delivered his best offering to date.

There's never a sense that Lake Street Dive are preaching with heavy hands, and cuts like the bluesy "Hush Money" and the lyrical "Nobody's Stopping You Now" have a universally relatable feeling. That they also evoke the classic album-oriented work of artists like Fleetwood Mac and Carly Simon speaks to Lake Street Dive's ever-deepening sense of songcraft.

In sum, it doesn't displace or replace the original, but adds immeasurably to its meaning and dimension.

For all of its incendiary music, furious soundscapes, and rhythmic madness, Pray for Me is beautifully produced, mischievously strategized, and expertly performed.

With each subsequent album, Horan just gets better and better. The Show is his most immediate and engaging set to date, endlessly listenable and full of heart and charm.

Where Mr. Money with the Vibe charted his rise, Work of Art firmly cements Asake's place as a Nigerian star with global appeal.

Bewitched offers up 13 tender, decade-defying originals in all, alongside a seductive, loyal version of the Erroll Garner standard "Misty."

Arirang not only stakes a solid claim for the group's place in the cultural heritage that helped inspire it, it's also a triumphant statement that cements the BTS legacy beyond the bounds of K-pop and Korea's borders.

Maybe it's divine intervention and maybe it's decades of working on their craft, either way on 13 White Denim sounds like a band born again.

Weller at the BBC (Vol. 2) is a dense digest of this particular category of his art form, and he shines throughout all of it.

More so than on Kamakiriad, or on the tight Everything Must Go, there is a sense of genuine band interplay on this record, which helps give it both consistency and heart -- something appropriate for an album that is Fagen's most personal song cycle since The Nightfly, and quite possibly his best album since then.

Field Songs is Whitmore's masterpiece thus far: unflinching, stubborn, demonstrative, and inspiring.

23 is mysterious and modern, with an artfully strange beauty that is more memorable than perfection.

With its ready absorption of, homage to, and engagement with the past, Walker's skills as a guitarist and arranger make Primrose Green as musically compelling as it is willfully indulgent.

If the musical qualities of Collapsed in Sunbeams suffer from a bit of sameyness by the end, the formula is a soothing, pleasant one with sentiment to spare and, as a debut, full of promise.

Some stellar outside contributions notwithstanding, Cheat Codes stimulates most when Mouse and Thought are sequestered, allowing the latter to leave space only for the occasional instrumental break or rare prominent sampled vocal.

An even sharper, more musically dense articulation of JID's profound talents with The Forever Story. The album is packed with nonstop displays of technical ability, complex wordplay, inventive use of beat switches, unpredictable shifts in flow and delivery, and forthright expression of experiences both personal and culturally shared.

Hazlewood manages to sound resigned, lightly disgusted, heartbroken, and deathbed wise as he sings his way through these songs, none of which ever hit anywhere near an AM radio station. It's easy to be excited for more volumes in this series after hearing this one.

The band's grandiose hellscapes can sometimes feel like horror-fiction cosplay, but in trading some of the myth and magic for the genuine torment of existential dread, they've managed to produce their most humanistic work to date.

The times have changed enough in the music world that Drone Logic won't get the same recognition and acclaim that albums by Underworld or the Chemical Brothers (or even Plastikman or Orbital) received 20 years previously, but it's every bit as good and expansively musical as anything from that era.

While Likewise still features the singer's peculiar, leaping vocal melodies, one of the album's biggest surprises is its sweeter, softer demeanor. That quality is partly manifested in lyrics and vocal performances that channel strong currents of compassion.

It's quite a stunning sequence, and evidence of the breadth of Nosaj Thing's compositional prowess, which extends from a fine ear for minute detail to a rare sense of album-length sweep.

One needn't take in all 90 minutes of America's National Parks at one go; it might work better, for some, to absorb slowly. Either way, it masterfully balances solo and group improvisation, chamber sounds, modern jazz, and avant composition.

By and large, Heaven Is a Junkyard finds Powers in pastoral mode. Even in its most orchestrated moments, the album feels primarily reflective and still, like Powers is gazing out on a silent field of wheat and offering us a look into his brain as the thoughts, memories, and scattered hopes all float by.

Letter to Yu's thoughtful sincerity seems far removed from the biting sarcasm of Pupul's acclaimed work with Charlotte Adigéry, but it's just as emotionally potent and artistically creative.

A lot of the album feels inspired by the Ghostwriting project, and while he's definitely injected himself into the songs, it feels oddly detached and writerly, as if he's taking pains to create a buffer zone of distance between his real feelings and the listener.

The key to Bradfield's album is how it respectfully salutes Jara while conveying the emotions and ideas stirred within the singer/songwriter -- a rare trick that is quite compelling on this urgent yet nuanced song cycle.

It is their most holistic, inventive recording to date and ups the ante for anyone trying to follow them.

As the mainstream becomes more and more predictable, Shabazz Palaces' inscrutability is a welcome change. Because the beats are so abstract, roots take precedent, and a strong presence on the microphone becomes the most important aspect.

Personal yet inviting, If You See Me, Say Yes is a lovely debut and a strong addition to Wasner's growing canon.

The creeping lurch and distressed fuzz damage of final track "Aurora" bring the likenesses and differences of previous phases of the band into clear focus, closing out Sonancy with a sound that could fit anywhere in the Loop discography but feels especially visceral, more dynamic than ever, and somehow new.

The resulting 11-song set, The Window, is a volatile one that continues a gradual shift in balance toward harsher guitar tones and more energy without shunning the ambling, jangly alt-country that has co-existed with the band's Breeders-revering alt-rock side since their full-length debut.

Evidently remaining under no pressure to assimilate with commercial R&B or even commit to traditional song structures, the musicians whip up another mixture of loose dance grooves and languid ballads. The effect is only a shade less stimulating than that of their previous LP.

Andorra may be a bedroom record, but it certainly doesn't sound like a bedroom record; it has the energy and intensity of group participation, and that makes it Snaith's best yet.

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.

The Maui recordings don't find him exploring much in the way of anything new, but he's in excellent form, playfully relaxed and fully engaged at the same time, and Mitch Mitchell's drumming is, as always, an excellent foil for Jimi's melodies and instrumental attack, while Billy Cox's subtle but solid bass anchors this music better than his predecessor, Noel Redding.

It's another extraordinary musical experience from the Claudia Quintet, who deserve all the high marks they receive as an innovative, thought-provoking, singularly unique contemporary ensemble.

These tunes, as rendered, are far more complex in arrangement and presentation than they appear. Combined, they reveal the artist's pursuit of creative excellence as an aesthetic practice with a spiritual dimension.

More complex and idiosyncratic than his previous full-length works (and much less danceable as a consequence), Unreasonable Behaviour focuses on midtempo jams in the verge between evocative techno, electro-jazz, and even melancholy synth-pop. If 1997's 30 was his Chicago album, this one is definitely the Detroit installment...

This soundtrack is a powerful tribute not only to the time-honored but commercially ignored genres of bluegrass and mountain music but also to Burnett's remarkable skills as a producer.

Skyscraper National Park is an amazing record that tells its entire story with a hushed voice and subdued instrumentation, but is still more affecting then being screamed at for hours on end.

With Come to Where I'm From, Joseph Arthur shows a willingness to ease up on the stifling angst that dominated his previous efforts. To be sure, the album still has more than its share of gut-wrenching misery -- there's no shortage of lines like "I feel like taking a razor blade and on my wrist write an invitation" -- but this time out, the anguish is balanced by healthy doses of self-awareness and a winking sense of humor.

What sounded austere on Fan Dance sounds simple on A Boot and a Shoe, and it's the differing inferences of those two adjectives that makes all the difference.

XXX is a bloated album; 19-track albums are a thing of the early millennium past. But this bloat is a gluttonous glory.

The resulting Violet Psalms is more measured, but no less distinctive (and destructive) than previous outings, delivering all of the architectural twists and turns, fragmented rhythms, and surreal narratives that have come to define the group over the years.

El Último Tour del Mundo is Bad Bunny's most adventurous outing. With so much going on, it may take longtime fans a few listens to fully grasp, but the record will ultimately leave its infectious hooks, earworms, and strangeness fully embedded.

Whatever was involved, the sound of the cello is ravishing. Listeners interested in microtones and their possibilities in a close-up focused environment are advised to hear Blue Veil.

B'lieve I'm Goin Down... is an impeccably arranged album beneath its soothing, sleepy surface, with every element assisting in an illusion of deep, shimmering, and alluring melancholy.

It is searing, raw and lusty, tender, open and vulnerable.

More than any other recording issued by this excellent band, Leucocyte captures the art of music making at the moment of conception.

The arrangements are exquisite, the textures multivalent, and the emotional resonances cavernous, intuitive, and expressive.

Nektyr would've been perfectly at home on 4AD or Projekt during the late '80s or early '90s, and might have been among their best releases, but its weightlessness and otherworldliness can't be attached to any specific time period.

At a time when deep Southern soul isn't doing a whole lot better than the blues in the marketplace, Robert Cray is an effective cheerleader for both forms, and That's What I Heard shows that after 40 years of record-making, he's in no way tired or short on ideas and inspiration.

The resulting follow-up, Midnight Manor, finds the six-piece still cranking out riff-fueled, freewheeling rock jams about booze and women (and the music industry). ... Filler-free album.

Thematically inward-gazing, Lung reflects on matters of loneliness, substance abuse, and mental health, though the music comes across as inspired rather than overtly dour.

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.

As with every Guided by Voices album, fans will find some songs excellent and some unmemorable, but Crystal Nuns Cathedral's steady approach and considered construction make for more keepers than duds, and one of the band's stronger entries.

The wait was worth it: Side-Eye III+ is the most holistic, tender, and joyful recording from the guitarist in more than a decade.

Everything -- from the vocals to the production -- is top-notch, and the record is a glittering late-career triumph.

Quite simply, this is the work of a great band at the peak of their powers, and The Whole Love is a joy to hear, revealing more with each listen and confirming once again that Wilco is as good a band as American can claim in the 21st century.

The fantastically produced full-band sound serves as a lush backdrop for Devine's often political or culturally critical lyrics.

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

At times, the album's extended jams get a bit wearing, but Ice Cream Spiritual! shows that Ponytail's music is still equal parts challenging, melodic, and fun.

It is to their considerable credit that Transgender Dysphoria Blues never sounds like the work of a band falling apart; if anything, they're reinvigorated, playing with a purpose lacking on 2010's softly unfocused White Crosses.

This LP is a triumph, an outstanding set of songs and performances from someone who has already proved they're one of the strongest, truest voices in American roots rock.

Blood Mountain is everything fans both hoped for and feared. Mastodon has dug even deeper in its foray into prog metal, but without losing an ounce of their power, literacy, or willingness to indulge in hardcore punk, doom, and death metal.

Full Communism would be the perfect soundtrack for the victory celebration--you'd have to go back to the MC5 to find a band that combined purposeful rage and passionate rock & roll energy as well as Downtown Boys.

Curiously [on the final track], the drums briefly mutate into skittering drum'n'bass breakbeats before everything goes silent, approximating the sensation of suddenly being jolted awake from a vivid dream. Moments like these keep the album intriguing, and they resonate more deeply with repeated listens.

Less sonically aggressive than their previous album, Profound Mysteries still has something of an edge to it and its overall tone of ghostly enchantment makes for a strangely captivating listen.

Dance Music 4 Bad People stands out as one of the most joyous, accessible, and immediate entries in his bottomless discography.

It's artistically satisfying because it's the Rolling Stones allowing themselves to simply lay back and play for sheer enjoyment. It's a rare thing that will likely seem all the more valuable over the years.

If the rest of the album is a hair more mystical in scope, his wide, introspective vistas are still quite compelling.

That AAARTH feels cathartic comes as no surprise, as the trio have long been purveyors of both aural and emotional heft, but this time around they've managed to crystallize both aesthetics into something truly sublime, fulfilling the promise set forth on 2011's The Big Roar.

Neither as radically charged or emotionally turbulent as her debut, At the Party is still an engaging listen whose charms come by way of connection and compassion rather than discord.

Equal parts impact and emotion, Active Listening: Night on Earth is a breathless joyride. The nine songs rise and fall in cresting waves of noise, confusion, longing, and abandon for one of the most captivating chapters of punk's continuing evolution.

Artful, spooky, and fascinating, When I Say to You Black Lightning's beguiling contradictions are likely to compel repeat listens.

Throughout, Eisenberg defies the concept of following a single path, instead finding a way to arrange it all so deftly that every disparate sound and conflicting idea becomes a passenger on the same vessel.

This is special, timeless music that speaks equally to the heart and the brain and it positions Horsegirl as the keepers of the indie rock flame.

Though it's not as eclectic and whimsical as their earlier work, Teen Dream is some of their most beautiful music, and reaffirms that they're the among the best purveyors of languidly lovelorn songs since Mazzy Star.

There is no album in her catalog like The Foundling; it's a terrible beauty whose jewels gleam darkly, endlessly. Its songs hold truth for anyone who has either shared this experience or merely has the willingness to ask difficult questions with an open heart.

mble at the Ryman may not be the same as hearing Levon Helm play for a few dozen guests at his studio--or for a few thousand fans at one of America's most venerable venues--but it captures a living legend on-stage proving he doesn't have to rest on his laurels to win applause, and this is a hell of a party coming from a guy well past retirement age.

Was anyone asking Lilly Hiatt to make a 1990s alternative album? No, and that's part of why Forever works so well -- here, she's just doing what feels right in the moment, and it sounds every bit as right to the listener.

The fact that the emotional extremes are few and far between makes the album difficult to wade through -- its impact would've been tripled with about half an hour lopped off, but where to begin?

So once again, they're preaching--at top volume--to the converted. Which is fine, because they remain very, very good at what they do.

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.

In many ways, the album feels like a working holiday for the band; even if it's not as explosive as some of their previous work, it shows that they can age gracefully and try new things at the same time.

Equally critical and affectionate and entirely fascinating, it's some of Daniel's most personal music.

This kind of sophisticated indie pop and singer/songwriter territory is all her own, and (A)spera holds almost as much wisdom as it does hope.

Major/Minor will go down as another solid, if unspectacular, Thrice release.

Given how mercurial she's been, this stylistic return may be temporary, but it's so fully realized, it's also a most welcome one.

This is a fitting postscript and testament to Masekela's legend, and the music on this date, while historic, is absolutely defined by its title.