Without applying any analysis, there is much to enjoy here; their raucous energy shines just as bright, but underneath the surface Ultra Mono lacks the sparkle that made their first two records truly special.

A dizzying display of a band at peak performance.

The easy melodies and subtle singing of the title track is something new and very welcome; much of the rest of the album hits this same note of familiarity and growth, and it makes for a very satisfying listen. If Berry continues to progress and impress at this level, he might soon be known as a musician who does some acting instead of the other way around.

The songs stick to their chosen path, Wall doesn't deviate from his plaintive croon, and the stark setting starts to sound a little dull as the album lopes from one song to another.

Fittingly, it feels almost more nostalgic than modern. Young's voice quivers slightly and by supporting himself with just a guitar, he seems slightly fragile, a quality that gives these simple, straightforward covers a subtle new dimension.

Stripped of any studio sheen, the songs hearken back to the siblings' early work when they were still sculpting their heartfelt hipster hobo aesthetic.

Hard Luck Stories is evidence Richard & Linda Thompson's union was more than worthwhile. However things ended, they created something truly special, and this is as consistently excellent and rewarding as any box set of the past decade.

Blue on Blue shuts down any arguments that Simmons is a dilettante when it comes to performing; she's an artist who has made a satisfying and expressive work of art not once, but twice.

Empty Horses is an unexpected shift from a firmly established songwriter. Sprout retains the best parts of his musical personality while evolving into unfamiliar places, learning some new tricks, and spinning an excellent set of new songs in the process.

Though Cook creates both of Apple's sides ably, juxtaposing them keeps the album engaging and makes it a successful entry point to his music. Happily bridging the gap between synthetic and organic, Apple is one of Cook's most satisfying obliterations of the borders between genres, authenticity, and artifice.

While it might seem like there's a little too much going on here, the top-notch production, artistic collaboration, and devotion to the space-age vibe results in a satisfying and unexpected gem.

From radically manipulated samples to original compositions played by live musicians, no particular method suits Arrington best here. The highlights fall across the spectrum.

Find the Sun is filled with insightful, poetic lyrics that reward attention, but the overall vibe of the album is best suited for a more meditative, perhaps semi-conscious state, allowing the sounds and rhythms to wash over you.

Nas is more ruminative and measured, like he's found his stride again, even as he flagrantly contradicts himself and waylays men and women with relationship advice that rings hollow. Going strictly by the conviction and feeling in each line, King's Disease is the MC's best work since 2008.

A curious misfire that trades strength and confidence for second guessing and stylistic uncertainty.

On An Evening of New York Songs and Stories in 2019, she reminds us she's more than lived up to her promise and remains a quietly charismatic performer with plenty of songs worth hearing.

It's just as weird, fiery, hooky, strange, and avant-punk as anything they've released; the unbroken hot streak they're on continues to throw off sparks like an overheating amp that's about to catch fire.

Breach, is an inward-looking set of songs written during a deliberate period of isolation. Later recorded in Chicago with producer Brian Deck and Steve Albini, its slightly more expansive sound is evident on tracks like the lush "I, Nietzsche" and spiky "Alapathy."

Nowhere near their best effort, What Is There still manages to retain enough of the widescreen essence of its predecessors to transcend its fixation on sonic baubles.

Musically dense and emotionally candid, the risks Cults take on Host make it a grower that embellishes on their strengths with flair.

Even with the R&B-leaning roster of guests -- Jill Scott and Snoh Aalegra are also on board -- Alicia is Keys' most moderate work, seemingly hedged with an objective to appeal to as many listeners as possible. There's at least no doubting the artist's intent to heal and uplift, and she puts it across with some of her most nuanced vocals.

For all of Orca's nods to heavyhearted ennui, its expressions of despair, regret, and disappointment fail to rise above vague, superficial levels.

Thoughtfully conceived and crafted, Baudelaire & Piano is another bewitching example of what a sensitive and creative interpreter Susanna is -- she lets all the nuances of the poet's words shine through while remaining true to her own muse.

Like other Uniform records, Shame is bleak and chaotic, but feels unmistakably honest and true to life.

They work to offer yet another unruly, unpredictable dimension in Mastodon's complex musical persona. Simply put, Medium Rarities is a must for fans.

As the years of shock tactics and theatrics fade into memory, Manson's left with just the music, aging as gracefully as he can with another expertly crafted offering for the altar.

Far from a rehash of the band's previous glories, American Head feels transformational; at once magical and down-to-earth, it's the album the Flaming Lips needed to make and fans needed to hear at this point in their career.

Throughout, RE-ANIMATOR's crisp, melancholy anthems, if less colorful than prior albums, remain captivating, bringing with them an existential poignancy that lingers beyond the closer, up-tempo rocker "Violent Sun," and its apocalyptic chorus ("I wanna be there!/When the wild wave comes/And we’re swept away").

At its best, this debut is a joyful testament to coming out the other side of trauma, though at times, some of the arrangements rely a little too heavily on repetition, taking the album's title quite literally. Still, it's nice to hear Johnson step out on his own and deliver a meaningful set of songs.

Without fleeting moments of bad taste, Perry does indeed sound mature, but she's also not quite as fun. That's a conscious choice, though. Smile is intended to evoke memories of her frivolous younger days while pointing toward a sustainable pop future.

With a laid-back pace, the album's slipstream sonic quality may require a couple of listens to fully absorb, but it's well worth the effort. Gilberto has made a career of seeking adventure in her music, but her partnership with Bartlett on Agora surpasses all expectations and creative limits.

Jeff Rosenstock is a Regular Joe, something that genuinely matters, and No Dream reminds us that sometimes the right kind of ordinary guy is something very special; may he never become jaded about the music and scene he clearly loves.

Despite a personnel list that borders on audacious, Big Sean is at his best on Detroit 2 when he sounds like he's standing alone in his room giving himself a pep talk.

Throwing Muses' power to mesmerize is as potent as ever. The sheer density of Sun Racket makes it something of a grower, but fans will be more than willing to take the time to let these songs sink into them.

Despite the fair amount of low-key experimentation on display, Faith still feels, at its core, wonderfully familiar. This isn't an album where Hurts push to subvert their own sound, but there's clearly plenty of inspiration behind it -- divine or otherwise.

Lightning Show Us Your Stuff doesn't feel like one of the truly great albums in Grant-Lee Phillips's catalog, but it's certainly a very good one, and any artist who can reliably turn out music this smart, impassioned, and well-crafted is someone who more than deserves a larger audience.

Recorded at Abbey Road in London, the eight-track set makes good use of the legendary studio's analog infrastructure, peppering the proceedings with fragmented loops and rewinding reels, all the while maintaining a radiant classic rock core. It's also the group's heaviest outing to date.

Equally rich and effortless, Gold Record is especially satisfying for longtime fans as part of a bounty of great work from Callahan since his return, but there's plenty here to delight anyone who loves brilliant songwriting and down-to-earth performances.

The material tends toward routine, but Braxton's elegant distress cuts through everything with conviction.

Fall to Pieces justly wallows in its grief, a document to loss and tragedy. This sonic bloodletting is by no means an easy or fun listen, but an invitation to grieve alongside Tricky.

Energy peaks early. The loping and gleaming "Lavender," a meeting with brash Channel Tres, and the atmospheric garage scuttler "Who Knew?," featuring Mick Jenkins in wholehearted singer mode, have enough homing power to illuminate Club Lonely.

It's a record that may require this kind of attention to detail to fully appreciate, but even absent that, All That Emotion is an elegant exploration of soft atmospheres as well as human behavior.

These are the strongest and most immediate of Prekop's electronic songs, feeling more meaningful and intentional than the interesting experiments of earlier albums. It took him a few records to get here, but with Comma, Prekop finally affixes his distinctive melodic sensibilities and songwriting voice onto his electronic compositions.

They seem to become more themselves with each album, and Plum finds them at their most immediate and compelling.

The production is at the same level of detail and quality that Burna Boy has maintained for most of his releases, but the songs flow in a cohesive, sometimes narrative fashion that offers a more direct emotional impact than some of his earlier work.

A true counterpart to Car Ma, Sound Wheel is all the richer when coupled with the book's vision. On its own terms, it offers another intriguing side to Mosshart's persona.

The Ritual Begins at Sundown pays affectionate tribute to Zappa's influence and spirit, but this music is also filtered through an idiosyncratic vision that balances complexity and technique with fun, the will to creativity, and an incessant urge to dance.

High-energy and high-strung, Mirrored Aztec is a cut above the usual set of fresh Pollard tunes. The memorable, high-octane, and outright strange moments all sit nicely together in a way that GBV's best albums perfected, but the band don't always achieve.

[Some songs] are new, some of which were handed out to other musicians over the years. When collected on Living on Mercy -- and delivered by a crew of empathetic old pros -- they feel of a piece, a sweet, soulful, and reflective effort from a masterful singer/songwriter that benefits from its mellowness and slow, assured gait.

All this adds up to an album well-suited for moments of introspection, moments when a listener is searching for sustenance and reassurance somewhere outside of themselves.

he album is very much substance over style, showcasing East's deft wordplay and storytelling talents without too many flashy distractions. On that end, Karma 3's production is robust and straightforward, evoking another time and place with old-school samples and head-nodding beats.

The Baby's combination of breezy melodies and vulnerability makes for an engaging listen well worthy of the promising designation.

There isn't a wasted moment on the album, an expertly crafted triumph that succeeds by balancing addictive production and a concentrated thematic focus. Beyond the technical, Use Me is also an inspiration, a cathartic rebirth for Gunn where she can take full credit for doing all the work, embracing the pain and cleaning her wounds with strength and confidence.

Blackbirds is proof that she's not resting on her reputation, and hearing her explore the architecture of a great song is a rare treat to be valued.

While first-timers to this era would be best served listening to the parent album first, existing fans who can't get enough of that LP will find Club Future Nostalgia to be an absolute blast.

As crucial as any of Muldrow's better-known creations, this proves that Jyoti is more than a side project.

The music on Flowers of Evil traverses with jarring effectiveness both past and future. Its songs explore grief, hysteria, madness, vulnerability, and romance as inseparable and indelible aspects of the human spirt, resulting in a masterwork of the familiar and the disorienting.

What makes S&M2 so absorbing and entertaining is how all the musicians involved embrace both the ridiculousness and seriousness of their endeavor, creating a glorious overblown noise impressive in its ambition, heft and unspoken absurdity.

Singing, however, is always what Toots has done best, and Got to Be Tough confirms that he takes a back seat to no one when he steps up to the mike, and its arrival is a joyous occasion.

Aptly named, ...But I'd Rather Be with You's emotional throughline is loneliness, and Tuttle does the feeling justice on a faithful rendition of Cat Stevens' "How Can I Tell You," which brings affairs to a close with subtle potency.

Like her debut, Inner Song covers a lot of emotional ground, and her exploratory spirit is just as captivating as the messages she expresses.

Whether or not the Allman Betts Band will make any hard left turns from their chosen path remains to be seen, but two albums in, their dogged adherence to family and cultural traditions remains their defining feature.

Managing to be uniquely stylized and engrossing while stripped bare, Whole New Mess not only works in isolation, it deserves equal footing in Olsen's discography.

While tracks like the fractured, jarring "Sidestep Summer" are as uneasy as Blumberg's previous two records, On&On is ultimately much more hopeful, if not quite inviting or accessible.

White-Gluz controls her songs with a steady hand and a crystalline vision on Motherhood, and takes No Joy's always-restless creative spark to unimaginable new places.

Respectfully done, Project Regeneration, Vol. 1 is a fun and technically proficient reminder that Static-X were ahead of their time and perhaps a little underrated. Through this cathartic process, the album serves as a love letter to Static and their loyal fan base, a respectful tribute that both honors his legacy and adds an unexpected new chapter to their discography.

The original lyrics tend to be powerful enough to fit in with the extensive quotations, whether Mhysa is referencing a black spiritual, Lucille Clifton, or Janet Jackson.

At its best, Names of North End Women is a beautiful creative rebirth.

It's a promising debut that should appeal particularly to fans of its electro-pop-minded contributors.

Show Pony is his declaration that if he's offered the spotlight, he'll claim it as the place he deserves to be, and on the basis of the talent and audacity shown here, only a narrow-minded fool would bet against him.

At only 25 minutes with another part in reserve, this effectively leaves listeners wanting more. Even certain tracks -- like a feel-good interlude with backing that resembles mid-'70s Earth, Wind & Fire -- are tantalizing on their own.

Ultimately, A Celebration of Endings fits with Biffy Clyro's long-standing knack for combining stadium-sized rock uplift with an undercurrent of wry post-punk thrills.

Mature and consistently satisfying, Limbo is a statement-making highlight in the rapper's discography.

While nowhere near as accessible or crowd-pleasing as the first A.A.L. album, 2017 - 2019 is a compelling mixture of anger and beauty, and one of Jaar's strongest efforts.

The Making of You is a marvel of skillful songwriting, savvy use of the studio, and talent that can find new magic in old voices, and it's recommended for folk-rock enthusiasts past and present.

Rife with beautifully intuitive pathos, Recover is the sound of the Naked and Famous turning feelings of heartbreak and desire into powerfully relatable pop moments.

The result is a deeply felt production informed by the group's long-standing love of ambient music, psych-pop, and kinetic, '70s-style Krautrock.

Neither rap nor pop, punk, or rock in any traditional sense, Sneaks continues to keep it fresh and original on another strong outing.

The small army of musicians continue to merrily pursue their muse, unconcerned with the human logic of time and space.

The second half is far too weighted to favor ballads. So much so, in fact, that the poignant closer, "Longest Lasting Friend," is almost lost in the shuffle despite its arresting quality. That's a small complaint, however, Holy Moly! is strong, relentlessly creative, and restlessly self-assured in its aspirations.

Cumbia Siglo XXI is easily Meridian Brothers' most satisfying outing to date. While no less insane than its predecessors, its musicality is as abundant as it is adventuresome. Further, it pays tribute to cumbia even as it exaggerates and satirizes it with almost familial warmth and affection.

In its own way, The Consuming Flame: Open Exercises in Group Form is a fitting companion piece to Plastic Anniversary. Like that album, it's a winning celebration of what makes Matmos special, and a tribute to the boundless possibilities of creativity -- especially when it's shared with others.

There's plenty of great, satisfying twangy rock on Twelfth, which is what we've come to expect from the Old 97's. There's also a level of self-awareness and maturity that's new to them, and that makes Twelfth a brave and valuable release from this great band.

She and her fellow writers and producers have put together the type of album that drowns out the world and keeps giving with each play.

Candid's mellow transcriptions and restrained approach may or may not draw praise from admirers of the source material, but they're a must for fans of the group's distinctly reflective demeanor and bubble-wrapped ambiance, which, guided by Ehrlich's soothing presence, succeed in making each version their own.

The Neon is stacked with what Erasure does best: Sharp melodic hooks, efficient, hip-shaking beats, and yearning lyrics that both relate and motivate.

Good Luck, Seeker is not one of the great Waterboys albums, but it is an adventurous one with enough standouts and strange magic to go around.

Freeze, Melt is a daring move for the band; they aren't exactly turning their backs on the huge, happy sound that earned them their glittering place in the dance rock firmament, but they do bring their sound down to earth in admirable, emotionally affecting fashion. In the process, they prove that they don't need to make music that's great to dance to in order to make music that's great.

Imploding the Mirage feels like more than just one of their best albums, but a triumphant and invigorated rut-reversal that shines with a hard-won confidence.

Source, with its adventurous, kinetic, and sophisticated approach in wedding modern composition, improvisation, and production to rhythmic and harmonic traditions, is one of the very best.

The album sounds even more emphatically Bully, with many of its hooky and grungy, visceral tracks examining the end and aftermath of a relationship.

Down in the Weeds avoids being either a phoned-in nostalgia trip or a wildly new direction that would alienate fans. Instead it continues Bright Eyes' evolution without skipping a beat, and manages to be one of their stronger records in the process.

Data Lords is a poignant and pointed jazz masterwork that adds weight and spiritual heft to our existential struggle.

The brief set overall evokes some of the same feelings as 9th's Black Radio Recovered remix of "Afro Blue," Kendrick's "These Walls," and much of Martin's Velvet Portraits, all connected and nutritive recordings offering solace and strength. There's no crosstalk, just completed thoughts.

By using her own empathic band for The Dirt and the Stars, Carpenter was able to erase all boundaries between singer and song; she entered their experiences nakedly, bravely, and completely, making this one of her standout albums.

Each song recalls the essence of a specific segment of '70s pop excellence, with just enough bizarre twists thrown in to keep things interesting.

The Goat is full of daring approaches, intense performances, and skillfully constructed songs. Its best tracks give a sense that Polo G, already a captivating talent, is capable of even greater things.

From its eerie beginning to its twilit end, Shutting Down Here's rotating and lapping elements are remarkably conversant with each other, at times evoking works like 1995's Terminal Pharmacy and at others nodding to his prolific output in the 2010s and 2020s in mysterious and poignant ways.