Although Kommunity Service is short, it still shows versatility by approaching various styles track to track.

Their studio albums solidified Can's reputation as one of the most important and groundbreaking bands of their time, but Stuttgart 1975 exemplifies how that creative spirit translated to the stage, highlighting yet another side of Can's limitless ability.

The Problem of Leisure: A Celebration of Andy Gill and Gang of Four seems designed less as a walk down memory lane for aging leftist post-punks than a tool to make current listeners aware of Go4's ideals and legacy, and though (like most tribute albums) its broad palette makes it somewhat inconsistent, the thinking is fresh, bold, and impassioned enough that it should open the ears of both fans and novices should it cross their paths.

A beautifully nuanced work, Clara is both revealing and mysterious -- and Loscil fans wouldn't expect anything less.

As difficult and cathartic as the subject matter is, it's clear that she has come out on the other end and is not only thriving as an artist, but has found peace as a human. Having such a rich and compelling story to tell on a debut album is rare, and Russell delivers her tale with the utmost grace and finesse.

What makes Hardware cook are the very elements that always work for Gibbons: deceptively sharp songwriting that supports full-throttle rockers and soulful, slow(er) grooves. It's a formula that's yielded great results for Gibbons throughout the years, and they do once again here.

The appealing thing about Soberish is how it holds two thoughts (and sounds) simultaneously, a record that revives the spirit of Phair's earliest albums while casually leaning into her middle age.

Rostam's music didn't need much altering, but on Changephobia, it's more artful and heartfelt than ever.

This questioning, comforting, quietly stunning album reveals the good things that can come out of pain and grief.

A solid collection, but the shadow cast over the project by DMX's death highlights some of the inconsistencies and adds a heaviness and sense of unfinishedness that's palpable throughout.

Reflection doesn't quite have the shock of the new that For You and I did, but its best moments are still powerful, and it would be impossible to mistake the album for anyone else's perspective.

Barlow is still in touch with what was best about his old work while maturing in the ways that truly matter.

Wide-ranging without seeming scattered, PostHuman is an effortlessly accomplished work.

As ever, the band's music finds common ground in varying styles and coheres into a singular whole, coming together with a purpose to uplift and celebrate.

All the shifting sounds and emotions lend Blood an uneasy undercurrent that counters the immediacy of her melodies, but this tension isn't merely provocative, it's nourishing. Few pop records have captured the agitation of the early 2020s as well as this homespun project, which feels a bit like a beacon in the darkness.

It's a solid and rewarding set of songs that sounds a bit different than his usual work but finds him working with some excellent and sympatico musicians who understand his craft and give him what he needs and more.

Her combination of sweet melodies and bitter moods, her conversational flow, and her self-awareness are all skills many songwriters twice her age would love to call their own, and they make Sour a well-rounded emotional journey and strong debut album.

Agreeable yet melancholic and peppered with moments of cinematic Lynch-ian weirdness, it's the purest and most satisfying distillation of Lord Huron's pastoral folk-pop to date, and the perfect soundtrack for a road trip to nowhere.

Minus the two guest appearances, this is a one-woman show, from composition and instrumentation to mixing and mastering. The low end on this sucker is immense.

As a whole, The Width of a Circle doesn't quite add up to much more than an odds-and-sods collection, but then again, that's its appeal. It allows listeners to live within Bowie's 1970, a strange, weird, and absorbing year when he was figuring out his strengths and weaknesses.

Reprise is a bold late-career gem that legitimizes Moby's brand of electronic music by extracting the existing emotions that always dwelled beneath the digital soundscapes, revealing a heart that was always there but is now on full glorious display.

It's nothing unexpected but it's all effective, from the sturdy song constructions to performances that know when to lean into the muscle and when to let things swing.

Cavalcade is intentionally oversaturated and designed to knock listeners off balance, and at its best, the album's overpowering rush of sounds and ideas communicates the excitement and a sense of unlimited possibilities.

While varied in style and arrangements, the album maintains a certain heartfelt, longing tone and unvarnished immediacy that engage in tandem with its solid songwriting core.

The songwriter goes on to defy social etiquette with more of her direct lyrics about sex, desire, and self-loathing on songs with titles sure to offend or at least embarrass a few parents. Ulven tests the line between potential catch phrases and potential cringes on more than a couple occasions here.

Michaels gives you the sense that she's writing from experience and transforming her emotions into cathartic pop anthems. It doesn't hurt that she also has a warm, expressive voice, marked by a dusting of vocal fry that can make her sound vulnerable and sweet one minute and wickedly intimidating the next.

An R&B-rooted set that glows with elements of atmospheric house, spangly garage, and racing drum'n'bass. ... It's just as enthralling -- and empowered -- as any of the club tracks.

Aside from that final somber moment, the rest of the LP is an absolute blast, yet another collection of reliable singalongs to "Oi!" your cares away.

The customary meeting with dancehall stars, "Where You Come From," closes out the set in fine style, but doesn't prevent the album from contending for Khaled's most disposable project.

Even though this shouldn't be confused for a proper DOOM album, two of the three tracks without him are clearly low points. ... Despite these missteps, Super What? is another worthwhile issue of the Czarface saga, and a fond farewell to DOOM.

Smart and fun in equal measures, In Standard Definition's love letters to long-gone formats and feelings are similarly bewitching.

Lost in the Cedar Wood is not Flynn's most accessible record, but it might be his most immediate, and its communion of two masters in their prime makes for a satisfying listen.

Throughout Take the Cake, PACKS put an intimate, warped spin on what are fundamentally great rocks songs. The result is a debut that's likely to compel return visits.

Gray has always been reflective, but in removing some of his sonic crutches, he's unearthed a bit of Van Morrison's mystic soul-food shine and brought his acumen as a songwriter front and center.

Finley's singing radiates with hard-won experience and gratitude, and his producer succeeds in reflecting that spiritual power and emotional honesty without self-reference or artifice.

Dynamic, but well-balanced, this collection is perhaps the most conclusive example of Moctar's multidimensional talents to date.

These songs stand on their own and bode well for the second album.

The album is a varied selection with solid performances and production throughout. Much like the title suggests, The Off-Season feels like Cole running through different exercises as he gets in shape for something bigger.

With just nine tracks, Standing in the Doorway: Chrissie Hynde Sings Bob Dylan feels a bit more like an EP than a proper album, but Hynde's takes on Dylan's songs are savvy and satisfying, and she's more than done right by one of her acknowledged inspirations.

Fly Pan Am's Frontera score is some of their most trance-inducing work, harnessing the power of repetition while retaining a crucial element of surprise.

A Little More Time sometimes suggests he recorded with this edition of Reigning Sound out of convenience or availability rather than a desire to reclaim the glories of the past. None of that changes the fact that Cartwright is a truly great songwriter, though, and he's delivered 11 winners on A Little More Time with Reigning Sound (as well as a roaring cover of Adam Faith's "I Don't Need That Kind of Lovin'"), played by a band who know his music and give it the expert support it needs.

The album puts too much emphasis on its cool side rather than the warmth that truly elevates the music, but there is more than enough beauty and empathy here to make this well worth your time and attention.

Whether or not they decide to revive their ongoing album mythology, Scaled and Icy will remain a quick dose of TOP perfection, a lean catalog gem that is bright, effervescent, and immensely addictive.

The finished album, mixed by Mario Caldato, has an immediacy that reflects its relatively quick conception and, coming after the nimble electronic experiments of 2019's Pang!, there's something bracing about the directness of Seeking New Gods.

A different kind of enjoyment than in the past, but just as good. Maybe even better.

Daddy's Home takes time to unfold in listeners' imaginations. It's much more of a mood than anything else in her body of work, but its hazy reconciliation of the good and bad of the past makes it as an uncompromising statement from her as ever.

It lets some of their influences expand on their ideas, sometimes taking them much further than they could've expected.

Kingdom of Oblivion organically grafts trademark elements from Motorpsycho's previous work and influences onto literally spontaneous musical discoveries. The album is a pillar of 21st century rock, adding dimension and depth to the band's visionary legacy.

Channeling the sense of yearning expressed by the poetry the album draws from, Medieval Femme is sorrowful yet freeing.

Taken together, The Power of Rocks is a pleasantly puckish jumble -- which in this case may well mean mission accomplished.

Descension is a collaboration for the ages: It is ecstatic, improvised jazz that reverberates inside the human body like a heartbeat.

Black to the Future jams is a staggering achievement. Musically and culturally, Sons of Kemet not only holistically conceive of a future, they begin to create one right now.

While The Monster Who Hated Pennsylvania doesn't necessarily break new ground, it's a strong, affecting set from a songwriter who proves himself among the elite at doing more with less.

It's dramatic, it's grand, and it proves yet again that Martin Phillipps hasn't lost a step and will hopefully go on for a long time making records as good as Scatterbrain.

Weller may often be adventurous, particularly during the third act inaugurated with 2008's 22 Dreams, yet he rarely seems as loose and playful as he does here, and that sense of mischief is an unexpected and welcome gift.

With The Blue Elephant he has made something bordering on greatness, where his skills at creating sound are allowed to fully flower, his songs have grown deeper roots, and the pairing with Blundell borders on brilliant.

Laconic and acidly textured, Delta Kream is a perfect balance of the Black Keys' lo-fi swagger and keen ear for the Mississippi blues traditions that inspired it.

In looking to creation itself for comfort, she has tapped into a deep well of creativity, and as much as Mercy must have been painful to unearth, it has the kind of authoritative and transformative power that can only come from reaching the final stage of grief.

This album is a project of love and admiration for Tony Joe White, and Smoke from the Chimney honors his legacy while reminding us that the tunes he left on the shelf are more effective and compelling than the emphasis cuts on most other songwriters' albums.

Uneasy offers a portrait of an emergent trio discovering a multivalently complex language while simultaneously articulating its myriad possibilities. The end result is centered, action-oriented music that is at once gloriously colorful and brilliantly articulated.

Mist's classical inclinations take full form on "Once a Year," a brief, yet languorous chamber piece that, as with all of Bring Backs, underlines his wide-ranging taste.

With Memoryland, CFCF looks back on a time when the future seemed limitless, reflecting on the promise of youth and how it's panned out so far.

Four years later, the follow-up, Monsters, picks up where that album left off, submitting an unpredictable sequence of 13 tracks injected with elements of cabaret, hip-hop, indie electronic, modern pop, and more.

A daring balance of vulnerability and creative might, Anything Can't Happen is a striking debut.

From the sweeping "Surrender" and "River Song" to the gospel-tinged epic hymnal of the title track, Birdy outdoes herself with Young Heart, a pensive journey that offers some solace and a shoulder to cry on.

Famous faces Drake, Future, Kid Cudi, Big Sean, Lil Baby, and Skepta also appear, but there's so much quality content to wade through on Slime Language 2 that their turns aren't even the most notable.

The set employs the unique, off-beat flow preferred by the Michigan underground, which Yachty adopts well enough on tracks like "Concrete Goonies" and "Final Form."

Fortitude is a fitting, welcome follow-up, and a brave new chapter in Gojira's continuing musical evolution as they weave old sounds with new ones in creating a sonic tapestry that showcases startling imagination, thought-provoking musical and human intelligence, complex emotions, and immense physical power.

Easily his most introspective project.

Shirushi is as promising and satisfying a debut as any North American group has presented in quite a while.

As a songbook, it's excellent, but it's equally effective as an album, as the trio harmonize and pick guitar with an emotional immediacy that gives The Marfa Tapes a warm, resonant immediacy.

There Is No End delivers more evidence of that. Taeger and Taurelle fully comprehended Allen's musicality and embraced its kaleidoscopic dimensions. As such, it is rendered free of the misdirected, sometimes jagged and piecemeal conceits that litter other artists' posthumous offerings.

The minimalism of Dodie's songs gracefully juxtaposes their sophistication, helping to illuminate the many revelatory pop moments that can be heard throughout Build a Problem.

Truly a band for the times, Squid feels like a wild jumble of thoughts come to life, effusing anger, confusion, humor, detachment, and even joyfulness in their pursuit of true creative freedom.

As always, his saving grace is his expert control of his voice and good musical taste, qualities that prevent Latest Record Project, Vol. 1 from being as sour as its creator.

Ultimately, this record is a triumph for the band, born out of strange times, and although it may not be their best, their blend of bitter and sweet still rings true.

Any of its retro origins are washed away by big, dumb sounds that keep the record grounded in the eternal now, an aesthetic choice that also helps the album be a rousing good time.

Based on the profundity of its content and the jagged beauty in its execution, Now belongs in the pantheon of culturally important works that include We Insist! Max Roach's Freedom Now Suite, Eddie Gale's Black Rhythm Happening, and Sun Ra's Nuclear War.

Hayashi's music can be hard to grasp at first, but it's clear that he's interested in channeling the spirit of all the music he loves while taking it to a different place, and listening to his music is a fun and mysterious experience.

Earth Man Blues stands out slightly from the several records that came before it, for both its abundance of hooks and its tendency to take the songs even further off the deep end. As with most GbV albums, it's a wonderfully bizarre and occasionally disarming ride through warped thoughts and cracked beauty.

Coral Island is the band at their best, effortlessly conjuring up the glorious ghosts of rock & roll's past and turning those sounds into something timeless and instantly rewarding at once.

There's also an unexpected flow to the album, with the more robust, high-energy tracks appearing earlier and the more subdued, introspective ones coming later; all of which beautifully reflects the ebb and flow of life. The Million Masks of God captures this flow, taking you on a theatrical journey that's often as moving and poignant as it is aurally engaging.

They are pop journeymen who can bid a fond farewell to one member as they look forward to where the music and the Endless Arcade will take them next.

Typhoons is designed as a late-night party record and if Homme occasionally pushes Royal Blood to lean in a bit too hard in this direction, the results are quite effective.

She Walks in Beauty is a loving testimony to the power and lasting vigor of the Romantic poets, and also a reminder of how lucky we are to have an artist as gifted as Marianne Faithfull giving us this remarkable tutorial.

Although there are fewer flat-out astonishing moments here than on the earlier LPs, numerous cuts elicit blues-shedding movement and seem unfadeable.

The lack of instrumental country accouterments heightens the album's stylized spaciness; it's not earthbound, it floats upon a breeze. Sometimes, Rosegold threatens to drift away yet it's never threadbare: it's a singular mood piece, one that suits a spell of twilight reflection.

While there might not be quite as many essential tracks here as on the other Switched On volumes, Electrically Possessed is a reminder that Stereolab were releasing so much good music that it was easy to take it for granted at the time, and it's well worth a listen for fans who may have missed or glossed over these songs when they were first released.

It's the work of two collaborative artists who are in the midst of a later-period renaissance that has spawned powerful, evocative music that speaks to its time without being confined to the crises that sparked its creation.

For anyone who hasn't explored the music Joe Strummer made after the Clash, Assembly works well as a compact introduction.

The style/substance balance is a difficult one to negotiate -- "Whip Cracker" transitions from upstart energy to Daft Punk-ery with minimal grace, while flecks of futuristic dance don't quite land on "I Don't See Colour" -- but for the large part, Owusu is a blessing to his genres, gifting them with his vivid personality and potent narrative threads.

This is entertaining from front to back, if not quite as much of a thrill as Waterhouse's previous studio LP.

Easily as good as the music that he released when it was recorded, Mutator is an enticing first dive into the Vega vault that will whet fans' appetites for more.

The few songs where Oldham and Sweeney strike up the band -- guest shredding and revved-up rhythms by Tuareg guitarist Mdou Moctar and his band on "Hall of Death" or the tense brooding of album closer "Not Fooling" -- are lively fun, but much like Superwolf many years before it, Superwolves is at its most powerful in its calmest, most clearly articulated moments.

Even at its most experimental, Vynehall's music radiates with energy and spirit, and Rare, Forever brims with a different type of excitement than his past work.

Mostly, Let the Bad Times Roll sounds like what it is: the work of middle-aged punk lifers who don't change their style, sound, or perspective.

Surrounded by Time is magnificent -- it's redolent with wisdom and a raging lust for life that is free of camp. It offers abundant proof that despite the passing of years, Jones has lost none his power or swagger.

Fire It Up showcases Cropper's joyous brand of grit & groove with swagger and attitude.