Keleketla! is a powerful combination of activism and musical exploration, bonding the sounds of several locations and eras in order to express messages of joy, optimism, and revolution.

Tracing the emotional arc of the album, a couple of calmer interludes lead into the crashing splendor of "If...." and the brooding shoegaze turbulence of "Is That What You Wanted to Hear?" The glacial drift of "Forget the Credits" feels like all of the previous songs' stress has been released as a balloon, and it feels fine to just lay back and free one's self of all burdens, now that it's all over.

Domesticated is a low-key album by Tellier's standards, but it captures the feeling that settling down is something to be savored, and it's got to be the most glamorous-sounding album about home sweet home.

Naeem's debut album, Startisha, is beautiful and reaching.

It's hard to believe that after two decades together as a band Peter Bjorn and John are still making records as intense, energetic, inventive, and vital as Endless Dream.

The barebones numbers are solid and Townes carries them, but The Lemonade Stand truly kicks when it's at its poppiest, as on the exuberant "Come as You Are" and "White Horse."

All of these cuts are loose, clever, and inspired, and they make for one of Lund's liveliest records.

It's not an ambitious album, nor one of Hayman's best, but it's as cozy and welcoming as its title suggests.

Warbled, atmospheric electronics eventually expand the sound design, as do subsequent tracks, like the bright, harmonic full-band pop of second track "Unready" and the lush, shimmery "Limits," whose arrangement includes scuttling electronic drums. The sparer tracks are where Gordi really excels, though.

None eclipse "Request" off VII, but the Kehlani collaboration "Morning" is a seductive delight, while the snaking (and accurately titled) "Boomin" is a treat for lovers of late-'90s R&B with explicit references to Blaque and much of the Swing Mob (plus an appearance from the latter's Missy Elliott). Confident diversions into breezy Afro-pop and underwater dancehall lead to a half-hour stretch covering various romantic woes.

The individual tunes hold their own, but Monovision is a record where the whole means more than the individual numbers, since LaMontagne strikes a very specific mood -- one that's reassuring, even soothing -- and then manages to sustain it until the end.

Even when they slow down, there's a lot of excitement in Pottery's music. Though they frequently threaten to steamroll over anyone within earshot of Welcome to Bobby's Motel, the band have so much fun that their listeners probably won't mind.

Like so many 21st century psych-inspired bands, Bananagun lean awfully heavily into their love of a very specific era, but they've nonetheless made an exceedingly fun record with plenty of craft behind it.

Shygirl's hard-edged yet sensual delivery on "Watch" is another fine example of KiCk i's forward-looking femininity, while "La Chíqui" is as brilliantly unhinged as a team-up between Arca and SOPHIE should be, with self-destructing beats and vocals that reach for the skies. These kinds of unapologetic contradictions and fragments coexist on KiCk i in startling, beautiful, and genuine ways, making it a complete, and triumphant, portrait of Arca's artistry.

The new material didn't merely simmer.

The songs are carried with energy and control, and even while the influences can be glaring, Gentle Grip is so well constructed -- and so fun -- that it stands on its own.

The album's length is just about right, going by in an efficient 36 minutes but feeling satisfying at the end, and while fans are bound to pick favorites, there's not a real dud in the bunch.

Shah presents as a mystery wrapped in an enigma, when in reality she's just innately talented and resolute in her convictions. Unsurprisingly, the mesmerizing Kitchen Sink distills those two predilections into something that's both compelling and otherworldly.

Khruangbin's music can still work as an ebullient, sun-baked soundtrack to daily activities, social gatherings, or cross-country road trips, but their songs have gotten more expressive and soul-searching, and Mordechai rewards closer listening more than any of their previous recordings.

Civic Jams is comforting in a way, but it generally conveys a sense of wanting to get back into the real world and feel the thrill of discovery and the excitement of shared experiences once again.

Throbbing and covered in sweat, Translation is unapologetic in its intent and a surprisingly welcome reminder of the Peas' power to lift spirits not through socially conscious bars, but internationally appealing, borderless people-pleasing that unites through dance.

Yachty's progress mostly shows up in his drive to push his music to new places, but he takes steps backwards by overpadding Lil Boat 3 with too many similar, unnecessary tracks.

If you've fallen out of love with indie rock -- or even if your devotion never so much as flickered -- Somewhere just might be enough to remind you why you loved the sound in the first place.

The trio -- singer/keyboardist/guitarist Joel Robinow, bassist/guitarist Eli Eckert, and drummer/technician Raj Ojha -- who had played together in various incarnations in the Bay Area before forming Once & Future Band, not only sound like a veteran arena combo here but offer the material to make them shine.

Westerman creates music to think and daydream and plot adventures to. Arriving among a musical landscape of clean, but often vacuous bedroom pop, he has created something of lasting substance and clarity.

Like the obtuse artists that LA Priest takes notes from, the best moments on Gene come when these perspectives are deeply inward looking and warmly welcoming at the same time.

It's retro soul at its absolute best, and anyone who has a partner who makes them feel the way Bryant feels about Ann Peebles on this LP has plenty to be thankful for.

With Planet's Mad, Baauer charts a journey that elicits emotion through physical response, channeling rage and frustration through his songs in a cathartic release that plays like musical therapy for a galaxy's worth of ills.

Hearing Wire riff on their past and present so brilliantly makes 10:20 both a dream come true for longtime fans and a surprisingly good introduction to their music for newcomers.

Though happiness is elusive in Owen's world, beauty is not, and The Avalanche is a striking testament to Mike Kinsella's gifts, where even sadness can pay handsome rewards under the right circumstances.

A sadder, wiser, and stronger album, Shadow Offering reflects big changes in Braids' world, but proves they're still at their finest when they dig into -- and sit with -- complex emotions.

Hearing these (sometimes very familiar) songs in this particular sequence is a journey, one that winds along a twisted road yet provides an experience as complete as its mid-'70s companion LPs. It's not a footnote but an essential part of Neil Young's catalog.

Rough and Rowdy Ways is akin to transformational albums such as Love and Theft, and Slow Train Coming. It's a portrait of the artist in winter who remains vital and enigmatic. At nearly 80, Dylan's pen and guitar case still hold plenty of magic.

Already masterful at creating sad, smart songs, Bridgers reaches new depths with Punisher.

The Black Dahlia Murder's superlative musicianship balances technicality, harmony, brutality, and mature sophistication on Verminous. While their style evolves somewhat here, it's a progression so smooth and in character, it's almost guaranteed to excite fans.

Lamb of God is a tense, yet confident album for taut and uncomfortable times.

No matter what direction his music takes on Sleep on the Wing, it's quintessentially Bibio, and spending more time with it is a joy.

Wicked City explores the extreme limits of how far a pretty song can be mangled until it crumbles completely. When the experiments are at their most successful, they can be truly transcendent.

After such a reflective and mournful era with The Canyon, it's refreshing to see this usually energetic group kick it back into high gear with such control, hunger, and ferocity.

This album is mature in the best ways without dimming its sense of purpose, and it presents three major talents in full command of their gifts and their ideals.

Underneath all the cool gloss are pleas of empathy and togetherness, along with some elliptical protest tunes, and while those songs do lend Invisible People some topical gravity, the album is fleet on its feet, a sleek and breezy pancultural party.

Survival's unguarded emotions -- the joy in creating a world in which to thrive, the pain endured along the way -- radiate an honesty that's all the more striking because it's so rare.

No longer masked by layers of texture, Summerlong allows Johnson to showcase his gifts for songwriting and psychedelic wandering in equal measure.

Patience provides the most inspired-sounding one yet. It's just more proof that despite not being the flavor of the month anymore, Sondre Lerche is quietly releasing some of the best and most interesting pop music of his era.

Familiar yet unpredictable moments like these make Enter the Mirror a confident, dynamic celebration of Maserati's 20th year of reimagining the future of decades past with 20/20 hindsight.

While not quite as immediate or diverse as their full-length debut, Annual slots in nicely among their rapidly expanding body of work.

If there is one complaint about this beguiling, driving outing, it's that after its 44-minute running time, Gogo Penguin's "magic in motion" aesthetic is so beautifully articulated in this immersive, mysterious music, they will leave listeners wanting much, much more.

Armed with his newfound sense of self-acceptance and determination, Garratt finds his voice on Love, Death & Dancing, embracing the darkness while shining some light into the shadows.

Nomad's repetition is never static, but moves shapelessly and quietly like a calm river.

Those days are far enough in the past to make this entire MTV Unplugged an exercise in nostalgia, a sentiment underscored by the rose-colored solo song "Once," but Liam is still in fine form, making this record an endearing and entertaining listen for anybody who shares fond memories of the glory days of Cool Britannia.

The restraint and love that the band show and the overall peacefulness of the music make for a lovely, warm summer day kind of album, perfect for daydreaming and pondering the timeless genius of Daniel Johnston.

To Love Is to Live is an unabashedly, thrillingly wild ride, and as Beth throws everything she has at her audience, she fully reveals the multitudes she contains.

The packaging is beautiful and the intentions are admirable, but The Bowie Years tells us nothing essentially new about this vitally important moment in Iggy Pop's career, especially since outside of the disc of rarities, chances are good many committed Pop fans already have most of this in their collections.

This blend of warmth and invention is what's so appealing about Pick Me Up Off the Floor: the shape may seem familiar, but the construction of the songs and the inventiveness of the performance keeps it fresh and surprising even after the first listen.

This is lacking neither imagination nor creativity, and is another transfixing exhibition of the beatmaker's command. The tracks are a little longer on average but still rarely exceed two minutes. What few tracks eclipse the mark never drag.

While a little unfocused stylistically, the recordings have a consistently dreamy, submerged sound quality that evokes a past life or at least an obscure record-store find. While the songs' narratives present Drab City as a disappointing destination full of broken hearts and gentrification, its immersive musical allure makes it worth the price of passage.

The effects-heavy guitar constructions of Arrow are the most emotionally intense Noveller material from Lipstate yet, making it easily one of her most expressive and fully formed statements to date.

While WUNNA deserves points for its cohesiveness and impressive highs, its padding proves its downfall: the album's closing run means it remains a pick-and-mix affair, rather than a definitive statement.

Fantasize Your Ghost is less playful and edgier than Parts; at the same time, it's more thematically and musically ambitious, and Ohmme sound stronger and more assured here, even when they paradoxically sound their most uncertain.

Descendants of Cain proves an exceptional listen. Pairing Ryan’s sublime lyricism with organic production and a precisely constructed concept, the MC’s fifth project is a superb statement piece from one of rap’s most ingenious poets.

Headroom's biggest strengths lie in its juxtaposition of relaxing grooves and unpredictable textures rather than in its core songwriting, but it delivers just enough of all the above to make for both compelling headphone listening or urban-afternoon ambiance.

Ultimately, Las Que No Iban a Salir is more a mixtape than a proper third album; and as such, it works. It offers snippets and full-scale portraits of Bad Bunny in process, all the while showcasing his curatorial skills and providing thoroughly enjoyable performances.

Lacking the thudding beats of previous TALsounds releases such as Lifter + Lighter and Love Sick, Acquiesce feels even more somnambulant, but it's still driven along by an unexplainable force.

Hollywood Park dials back the trashy glam rock of its predecessor in favor of big earnest indie rock with the occasional flourish of gothic folk and Americana-laced post-punk.

It's an eclectic set, for sure, but loyal to a nostalgic musicality that doesn't take itself too seriously; there's a bit of a wink and smile to Italian Ice that adds an extra layer of charm.

Neither country nor Americana, Peck is a hip outsider who is now rubbing shoulders with the anodyne likes of Thomas Rhett, Morgan Wallen, Blanco Brown, and the Jonas Brothers, a group that makes for a passable enough half hour of entertainment but collectively don't add up to a cohesive or surprising country-pop aesthetic from Diplo.

Dedicated Side B is just as heartwarming, fun, and catchy -- in other words, more of what Carly Rae Jepsen fans have come to know and love.

As disorienting as Future Teenage Cave Artists gets, it packs a potent emotional wallop.

2nd Grade make the small moments count, and Gill and his friends have made a record that fans of indie pop, power pop, and good old-fashioned small "p" pop should rally around and share with their friends and family.

Overall, it's a lovely return to the scene for Sonic Boom that finds him in full control of his vision and making music that stands proudly next to the best work he made in his so-called glory days in the 1990s.

Goons Be Gone isn't the perfect synthesis of chaos and control that No Age have been searching for their entire career, but it finds some of their best songs and most fruitful experiments presented in a style that's never sounded more singularly their own.

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.

Overall, the combo of the band's inspired playing, the note-perfect production, the memorably fun songs, and the vitality of their voices helps make The Prettiest Curse their best record yet. It might not be simple and true garage rock anymore, but Hinds show they are able to grow up a little without losing any of the qualities that made them special.

The album is another strong point in the case that Rolling Blackouts are making the best guitar pop anywhere in 2020.

RTJ4 distills the anger and frustration of the people through Run the Jewels' hard-hitting, no-nonsense revolution anthems. Trim with no filler, this fourth set from the outspoken duo provides relevant history lessons that are more useful than a classroom textbook.

There's an organic, painted desert beauty to the album, and its drifting moods have an unhurried feel that may be due to its lengthy creation (the trio carved out time to record it over the course of nearly five years).

Maybe she's lost her appetite to be a weird provocateur, but she has learned how to sharpen and stylize her attack, and that focus makes Chromatica one of her most consistent and satisfying albums.

Self-Surgery's greatest flaw is that there are too many ideas with too little time to work them out, and this may have worked better with four somewhat longer tracks instead of eight short ones. Regardless, this is a bold, brave effort from two artists willing to push the boundaries of their music, and Mrs. Piss is a side project that has more than earned its reason to exist.

There's a charming looseness to the album; while never abrasive, the samples sometimes clash with each other a bit, and it all has the feeling of a cut-and-paste collage, sounding far less refined than Eluvium or Explosions' dramatic, labored-over epics. ... The album is a poignant, playful collection of future memories.

Thompson was a capable performer from the start, and Heartbreaker Please demonstrates he's improved with the passage of time, while his songwriting has also gained a depth that comes from a lived life.

No matter the mood or mode, Haliechuk and Falco make nary a misstep and show they are equally adept at inspiring weird dance moves, conjuring up post-punk ghosts, or delivering indie rock thrills. At their best -- which is most of the time -- they leap past being a sum of their influences to make music that sounds supremely fresh, and if the shifts between sounds can be a little jarring on the first couple of listens, at least Harmony Avenue is never boring.

Good Intentions is redeemed slightly by its incrementally improved production choices and impressive list of guest artists. The strongest songs on the lengthy album are those when NAV's juvenile lyrics and generic performances are enlivened by more talented artists dropping in to collaborate.

Lyrical themes orbit around topics he often returns to: crime, struggle, and street vengeance. With Beyond Bulletproof, however, the delivery is shades more relaxed and even introspective, allowing for a clearer view of Mozzy's pain as well as his personality.

At just 28 minutes, Alphabetland fires on all cylinders throughout and bows out before it can wear out its welcome; it's a nearly miraculous example of a band returning to the studio after a long layoff and delivering at full strength.

Downcast and spectral even by the standards of Lanegan's less-than-sunny body of work, Straight Songs of Sorrow is psychodrama as much as it is entertainment. That also makes it one of the most nakedly compelling albums Lanegan has given us, and anyone who has been interested in his music or his life will find it darkly mesmerizing.

Although there are some clumsy similes and metaphors, and a surplus of astrological references, its lyricism is undeniable, abundant in pithy rebukes and come-ons. And while the predominantly crawling tempos can have a tranquilizing effect, there's nuance to nearly every cut with high-level songwriting to match.

With so many tracks, there's something for every mood and listener, a lengthy collection of familiar sounds punctuated with just enough choice cuts to keep it interesting.

The album reinforces the unstoppable brilliance of Merritt's writing. At any length, instrumentation or investigating whatever ridiculous subject matter, he somehow manages to be effortlessly charming, funny, odd and above all catchy.

Chunky Shrapnel is a testament to the band's powers as a live act and is sure to make their fans happy.

While his observations on anxiety are astute, much of the record is given over to the kind of harmless romantic synth pop that does little to distinguish itself among the deluge of similarly smooth pillow talk scattered across the genre. Not quite as left-field as it wants to be, Salvat's follow-up still offers a reasonable amount of pop appeal.

With Ghosts of West Virginia, he's created some of the most eloquent music he's written in two decades.

As wide-ranging as Banana Skin Shoes is, it never feels like Gough is dabbling. The album's sounds are as carefully considered as the motifs of tears, apples and snowy spring days that recur in its lyrics, and the flourishes of brass that pop up throughout feel like triumphant fanfares.

Consummation is a bold step forward and confirmation that Katie von Schleicher has a great deal to offer and should be creating satisfying music for a long time to come.

The tracks that follow are, simply put, eclectic. At times, almost frustratingly so.

It's an album anchored in unsettled rumination, with compellingly grainy surfaces that reveal either the expertise of its accomplished collaborators or a sophistication beyond Owen's years -- likely both.

While this record sounds bleak on the surface, there's a strange sense of comfort in these songs; they acknowledge the sad state of the world even while attempting to transcend its darkness and uncertainty.

Through it all, Vager and her band cut a jagged line through punk fervor, pop charm, and rock backbone, turning in an album that is equal parts ferocious, funny, and moving.

Strange to Explain sounds like the result of carefully considered choices in songwriting and production. Without losing the unfiltered emotion that makes them so compelling, Woods reach a new maturity with these songs. Fifteen years into a tirelessly curious evolution, the band sound more comfortable and surefooted here than ever before.