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.

A triumphant return for longtime fans and a winning introduction for newcomers, Crave shows Kiesza has only gotten better at reinventing the idealism and big emotions of a bygone era for another generation.

It's a moody puzzle box of an album, one that pays dividends with close listening but one that's also fine as evocative background music.

It's not an altogether bad record and it ends on a bright note with two of its best cuts -- "Bad Advice" and "Deliver It" -- but for all of its amiable intentions, it comes across as short on personality.

Total Freedom is aptly named, as these songs are the work of a songwriter who demands no more and no less; now more than ever, Kathleen Edwards is living and making music in a way that honors her own spirit, and it reminds us why you don't take the work of someone this talented for granted.

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.

Have You Lost Your Mind Yet? crackles with energy, wit, and passion, attributes that are worthwhile effective compensation for Fantastic Negrito's relatively streamlined attack here.

Gift of Sacrifice, in comparison, is noticeably more accomplished and better thought out, and Dunn's presence as a collaborator certainly helps Osborne make this into something memorable, though if he's smart he won't get rid of his amplifiers just yet.

Ganser's lyrics stick close to themes of dread, tension, and uneasiness, and every song finds a slightly different musical avenue to get to the heart of those heavy feelings. In this way, Just Look at That Sky manages to be engaging without losing cohesion, anchoring its various chaotic instrumental approaches to a dismal emotional core.

The album hits like the work of a solitary creator, however, its suffocating songs often warped by trippy arrangements, unpredictable turns, and out-of-tune components (including persistent double-tracking) all sound like the product of a singular, eccentric perspective.

A major step up for J Hus, and the first notable British rap album of the 2020s, Big Conspiracy was a well-deserved success, debuting at number one on the U.K. album chart and spawning several Top 40 hits.

Liza Anne isn't merely bloodletting here, she's writing with barbed wit and raw feeling, a combination that gives Bad Vacation an impact that lasts long beyond its initial pop dazzle.

As strange as the album's combination of whimsy and wistfulness might seem, it makes for one of Fevre's most varied, oddly introspective works, ending his career on a good note.

Glass Animals' most cohesive and satisfying album to date, Dreamland is a well-deserved triumph that's as rewarding for fans to hear as it was for the band to make.

Like its predecessor, Sex, Death, & the Infinite Void treats naval-gazing like a spectator sport, with each death-obsessed narrative resolving into a gang-vocal crescendo ("God can't save us, so let's live like sinners") of stale cigarette smoke and beer-can-crushing outsider solidarity.

The band are nothing if not exceptional at creating a mythos; by promoting inclusiveness and affirmation to aspirational degrees, they demonstrate that by working together, they can create beauty from chaos.

Brain Candy is still rock indie pop first, with a garage rock sidecar. Most of this is an up-tempo blast, and Stephenson's vocals are excellent while the guitar work and drumming is expert and fully engaged. Brain Candy isn't kid's stuff, but rather the word of two guys determined to make adulthood work for them without spoiling everything, and Hockey Dad hit that target with flying colors.

The different shades of blue are nuanced but notable and help make Blues With Friends another strong latter-day collection from Dion.

G3 is heavy on bangers, with all tracks whizzing by in two or three minutes, and the album constantly stays sharp and exciting.

At just 30 years old and with seven albums to her credit, Marling's songwriting has been honed to a level of literate maturity that few artists achieve in their careers.

A fluid continuation of 2018's appropriately titled No Sounds Are Out of Bounds.

La Vita Nuova is a fine complement to the Chris era.

Even more audacious than No Trail and Other Unholy Paths, Prisyn proves Jaye Jayle's music can thrive as Patterson lets tradition go by the wayside.

He's in a league of his own when it comes to making the most of music's time-traveling, spell-casting powers, and like Drift Code before it, Clockdust proves that Rustin Man's music has only grown richer and more rewarding over the years.

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.

Time has only made Elverum's music more transcendent, and anyone who loves the Microphones or Mount Eerie will find the album's fresh yet timeless perspective on it a fascinating and moving listen.

It's just a short but compelling set of songs from a singular artist, and however it made its way to a public hearing, listeners can only be grateful it has emerged at last.

Whoosh! is musically superior to its immediate, Ezrin-produced predecessors, but it's more, too: If it's the last album Deep Purple release, it should be remembered as among their best.

After releasing a couple albums that showed the Washed Out sound could be altered in interesting ways, coming back with something that's textbook chillwave can't help but be a letdown, no matter how pretty and soothing it can be.

The lack of musical and emotional evolution doesn't necessarily hamper Born Here Live Here Die Here -- it was designed as slick entertainment and that's exactly what it is -- but it does suggest Bryan may be playing with some borrowed time.

Articulation displays West's skills at letting human emotions guide his technical explorations, matching intuition with precision to produce gripping, resonant music.

While just as brainy and elaborate as Jaga Jazzist's other albums, Pyramid is the sound of the group letting themselves go and following their instincts, arriving at some of their most unbound, easily enjoyable material.

Burnished by a production that cannily recalls the echo-drenched LPs of the 1950s and early 1960s without ever succumbing to nostalgic fetishism. To Crockett, this sound is as timeless and telling as old folklore, which is why the retro vibes of Welcome To Hard Times feels so vital: it's not a revival, it's part of the continuum of great American music.

The set covers the trajectory of one relationship and was recorded in concentrated fashion, and it consequently plays out like a complete statement made by a self-contained crew. What's more, La Havas' lithe voice forms a tighter bond with the lyrics, and her gently ringing guitar rarely leaves her hands.

Such Pretty Forks In The Road simmers, never boils.

If you share the same perspective (as well as the same sense of humor), Floor It!! is a blast: it sounds like your favorite classic rock playlist kicking up forgotten favorites as it cycles through a perpetual shuffle.