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.

The essential generosity of Burgess' spirit helps keep I Love the New Sky buoyant during the rare moment it drifts a bit too far into cheerful trippiness. And those moments are so rare, they're hardly noticed.

While the hypnotic cover of Talk Talk's "Life's What You Make It" may be the only moment here that doesn't distinguish itself enough from the original. Much more frequently, however, Cover Two brings out the best in Joan as Police Woman's music as she revisits some of her favorite songs.

On this stunning debut, Sawayama captures Dua Lipa's future nostalgia and Poppy's metal-meets-pop savvy, rightfully making it her own with more depth, bigger thrills, and a limitless palette.

Shifting from pounding rock to experimental jazz at a feather’s touch, the album’s sonics provide the theatrical soundscape to Sumney’s words, rising and falling in line with his crystalline tones.

While the bulk of the album may be less infectious than that tune ["How Could I"] or the record's defiant predecessor, Temple's wonky mix of pop, rock, and hip-hop hooks remains engaging and recognizably theirs.

The quiet and gently unfolding "18 to 1" stands as the album's prettiest and most tonally pleasing cut, though for the patient listener, there is plenty of magic throughout the set as these two masters intertwine their ample talents.

Appearing after the release of an album Smith composed for the purposes of yoga, Mosaic has a similarly meditative flow, but with much more expansive arrangements.

Though the work seems part and parcel of the Nightwish aesthetic, on its own it may not appeal to all fans. That said, it does add depth and dimension to Human. :II: Nature. which is, with one exception, a consistently and deeply satisfying outing that was worth waiting for.

At their best, the Dears make music so beautiful that you can sometimes forget how bitter and resigned they seem to be, and Lovers Rock works the "pretty music about ugly emotions" angle as effectively as anything they or their peers have done in ages.

A fine showcase for how Sleaford Mods boil down punk and hip-hop's frustration into eloquent outrage and anger, All That Glue helps the converted and newcomers alike play catch-up.

Sorceress doesn't feel like a slam dunk triumph for Williamson, in part because it seems like she's still working out the balance between the various sides of her creative personality. But she sounds solid and assured even when she's swimming through the darkness, and her consistent strength as a writer and vocalist makes Sorceress well worth investigating.

Hakim provides consolation that is flavorful and tripped-out. Moreover, it's a little reassuring that he's able to flash some of his pitch-black, bone-dry sense of humor. The first two lines of "Crumpy" in particular should not be missed.

At times the songwriting just doesn't hold up to the inventive production, but there's plenty of ear candy to fill the gaps on this extremely fun LP.

Here and throughout A Steady Drip, Drip, Drip, Ron and Russel Mael riff on their history deftly, and the results are both timely and quintessentially Sparks.

Much of Reunions mirrors a troubled present, but "Letting You Go" finds room for hope and humanity, and it reinforces the themes of what may be Jason Isbell's strongest solo effort to date.

Like 2018's Everything Was Beautiful, and Nothing Hurt, All Visible Objects is a highlight in Moby's late-era catalog, a revitalization that serves both his passionately held beliefs and his core sound.

All the nuances of desire that Hadreas explores on Set My Heart on Fire, Immediately enhance the individuality of each song, as well as his own individuality -- and as he honors every part of his music and himself, he gives listeners another rich, densely packed album to savor.

While it may not be the proper sequel to the ambitious Charli, how i'm feeling now's rawness and immediacy give it an appeal all its own. More than just an interesting social media experiment or a way to fend off quarantine boredom, it's an artistic challenge that's true to the very best parts of XCX's music.

With Paradise Gardens, Dorval finds the strength to acknowledge darkness instead of feeling trapped by it, resulting in some of her most healing, self-empowering music.

While some fans may prefer the more escapist dancefloor jams that introduced them, Regresa showcases Buscabulla as a band who can work in virtually any situation and deliver a truly original sound that inspires the listener. We need more records like this.

PITH is a thrilling leap forward for the band that sees them hitting all the marks they hit so well on their debut and then leaping past them into new dimensions of sound and energy.

I Grow Tired But Dare Not Fall Asleep has a despairing seductive power.

Even with the more tuneful tracks, the album has enough bizarre lyrical imagery, unexpected outbursts, and general freakiness to keep Man Man from losing the weirdness they built their sound on.

Too close to the original to be a worthy reinvention, and too flawed in execution to feel like a successful homage, although this will almost certainly remain the only Elvis tribute album to include a sample from Aleister Crowley, at least until Jimmy Page gets around to making one.

From the outset, Weight of the Sun feels less immediately accessible than Modern Studies' two previous albums and suffers a bit from its mid-tempo lull and more contemporary palette. Given some time to decant, however, it reveals hidden depths and more interesting layers than are at first apparent.

While the first two I Break Horses albums were heartfelt and promising, at times it felt like Lindén was looking for her true musical voice. On Warnings she finds it and has made a modern synth pop-meets-dream pop classic that is sure to melt the frozen heart of anyone lucky enough to discover it.

While there's certainly an audible sense of collaboration on Petals for Armor, it's Williams' ability to turn her dark, personal moments into anthems of survival that stick with you.

This collection is a nice gift for fans who wanted all these stray tracks gathered up in one easily accessible place and shows that Drake's cast-offs aren't far from his keepers and his minor moves are still worth following just in case he comes up with something genius. Nothing here quite rises to that level, but overall, it's a solid entry in his ever-growing catalog.

Songs for Pierre Chuvin is a rough-hewn gem that's a splendid throwback to the wild early days of the Mountain Goats, and it only took a pandemic to make it happen. It may not be that much of an upside, but that makes it no less welcome.

Outland is a bit more rhythmic and bass-heavy than his previous two albums. There's a much sharper bite to the way he uses distortion here, and the tracks with beats sound monstrous.

It isn't a major departure than his previous few records, but it is a bit punchier, delivering more of a jolt of electricity and replicating the energy of his live shows a bit more. The rhythms here are a bit tighter and more complex.

Ignatius isn't strictly about reflection, though. There's some lethal, laser-focused ferocity in the Pusha T collaboration "Huntin Season," grade-A boasts and signature cackles over looped Peabo Bryson in "Me," and streetwise sermonizing in "Gov't Cheese."

Fake's music has always been highly inventive and emotion-rich, but this is the most urgent and vital it's ever felt.

Whether compared to the progressions of Kirby's cross-continental inspirations (Tsegué-Maryam Guèbrou, Andrew Hill, Yoshio Suzuki) or those of his nearest contemporaries (such as Garrett and Bremer/McCoy), My Garden is its own gratifying thing.

While it's not as brilliantly cohesive as Future Politics, Hirudin's exploration of losing someone and finding yourself sounds like the music Stelmanis had to make.