In classic punk rock tradition, many of the songs on High Risk Behaviour clock in at well under two minutes; meaning that it never drags.

In a way, New Me, Same Us comes across as a statement of renewed commitment from the band.

Although it's all over the place, Before Love Came to Kill Us radiates conviction from front to back, and is without doubt a true representation of its creator.

With this flawless effort, she manages to achieve both. Future Nostalgia could have just as well been titled "Future Classic."

There is nothing subtle about 100% Yes. Despite the anger and activism in the lyrics, this set is saturated with the energy of hope.

While the retro-future production on some of the songs gives Migration Stories a distinctive flair, it's still by and large a typical Ward joint, replete with all of the idiosyncrasies and retro affectations that have become a stylistic hallmark of his catalog. Familiar as it may sound, though, he doesn't skimp on quality and there is plenty to love about this latest entry in his impressive catalog.

If You're Dreaming definitely isn't as immediate as Quit the Curse, and while it isn't a demanding album, it requires a bit more concentration in order to understand it better.

Expressing a wide range of emotions in a short timespan, Allegiance and Conviction is a vivid, engrossing experience, and just as vital as every other entry in Windy & Carl's unbeatable catalog.

Consistently hypnotic, yet rich with sneaky melodic shifts, Sister's rich sonic architecture, which includes Bettinson's anodyne vocals and stream of consciousness wordsmithing, is its greatest selling point.

No matter how much Kelly Finnigan cloaks or smears his sweet and sour voice, he's one of the more affecting singers of his kind, the focal point amid an expertly arranged band and supporting voices, strings, and brass.

The album seemingly becomes more spaced out towards the end, but the concluding "Slow Movement: Sand" feels like a solemn resolution and is one of its more affecting tracks.

This is sometimes an aural journey through a labyrinth, but it never sounds like the participants are lost.

She's not only exceeded expectations with Walking Proof, she's made an album that will be hard for her to top, though no one who has followed her music so far would count that out.

Despite the label move, it's a follow-up both stylistically and thematically to 2018's Lavender, as it revisits themes of displacement, isolation, and connection.

Even without some of the more advanced effects he's able to use in a proper studio setting, he's still able to do a lot with his limited setup, wringing unearthly sounds and textures from decaying tape loops.

Glaspy has more or less tamped down her previously distracting vocal affectations in favor of a more sonorous style that really suits the material. Overall, she adds a handful of unique entries into the love song canon while pushing her own body of work forward.

Glover is fearless and definitely not afraid to fall flat in the quest for something new or real. 3.15.20 is both of those things and is the second classic, timeless and timely Childish Gambino record in a row.

Over the course of 13 tracks, Sorry drifts into a wide range of sounds and experiments with subtlety. Their chameleonic approach is never garish, with strong songs being the main takeaway and all the experiments with production and style just the weird icing on the cake.

Bad Bunny does whatever he wants, even if that means quitting when you're far ahead. If he does, we'll still have YHLQMDLG, a transformative fever dream of an album that accents freedom by breaking all the rules without writing new ones.

Local Honey is an inside record that's better-suited for humid mornings and overcast afternoons than the open highway. In looking stridently inward, Fallon has crafted his most homespun and relatable outing to date.

For the band's part, they definitely benefit from being able to stretch out in the studio for a change, and Loughead in particular delivers some excellent lead guitar work. In terms of Nap Eyes' catalog, Snapshot feels like a bold new era, though it's not without its growing pains.

Illusion of Time fittingly sounds rougher and more spontaneous than any of Avery's work or Cortini's preceding recordings, particularly his 2019 Mute release Volume Massimo, but its highlights seem to pull divine inspiration out of practically nothing.

While alternating between regretful slower tracks, midtempo drawls, and livelier, foot-tapping fare, the album never moves off dirt roads and adjacent orchards, and proves to be her most carefree-sounding effort to date. That's despite doggedly self-examining lyrics that keep Saint Cloud squarely in the realm of prior releases from an artist who continues to ward off complacency.

Tesfaye fills much of this neatly sequenced, ballad-heavy set with penitence and longing. He sets the tone with an escapist fantasy that turns into a nightmarish relapse, and is tormented for much of the duration by seeking and receiving salvation and ruination from the same relationship. Some of Tesfaye's most vivid and piercing lines are herein.

Despite its unconcealed outrage, Gigaton does have its share of shade and texture even before it settles into a number of meditative moments on its second side. ... Aural adventure adds a nice counterpoint to protests and pleas offered up by Pearl Jam, and helps Gigaton feel vivid, alive, and just a shade hopeful.

It's uplifting, even life-affirming.

The Performer can get a bit bogged down in its own stylistic chicanery, but Righton is transitioning from rocker to crooner in real time, and it's the tension between the two aesthetics that keeps the listener's attention.

Uneasy Laughter is a riskier proposition than Moaning's first album, but it demonstrates their tremendous growth, both as a band and as humans.

This is a fitting postscript and testament to Masekela's legend, and the music on this date, while historic, is absolutely defined by its title.

The Night Chancers is the kind of record that hits instantly thanks to its smooth and strangely comforting surfaces, then each subsequent listen takes it deeper as Dury's delivery and outlook become more and more embraceable. He's struggled to make his own way in the music world, free of his father's influence. It seems safe to say that records as good as this prove that Baxter has arrived with a voice and sound of his own.

There isn't much lyrical substance on Colores, and there doesn't need to be. It's a party record whose lyric flows are effortless and laid-back enough -- a Balvin trademark -- to attract listeners inside and outside musica urbano's big tent. The album's brevity adds depth and dimension to its direct, seductive, welcoming mix and garish presentation.

Arbouretum comes on as gentle as a rolling creek, never letting on the full range of their powers until the songs have silently grown from still waters to cresting waves.

An assured singer, she settles into a hushed, urgent intimacy for Kelsea, an approach that suits the songs and her intent and also helps make the whole stylish production seem genuinely intimate.

While Velvet's vintage vibe is impressive, it would only be stylish window dressing if the songs weren't as catchy and inspired as they are.

Myrkur's Folkesange is a balm for the soul, a stark and heartfelt offering of solace and comfort amid chaos and darkness; its warmth, resonance, tenderness, and lucidity envelope the listener in reveries of nature, mysticism, and love.

Set aside this inclination toward sneering solipsism, which not only characterizes but enlivens nearly every song, and I Am Not a Dog on a Chain is one of the better latter-day Morrissey records: the sense of musical daring reveals how placid and complacent he's been for the better part of a decade.

While fans will be glad to know that Through Water generally adheres to the well-embraced, cushiony indie electronica of Long Way Home, its "2.0" quality makes it an even better entry point for the uninitiated.

A little bit of a diversion from past Four Tet releases, Sixteen Oceans feels like Hebden is taking a moment to stop and reflect on his family, his environment, music culture, and everything else that made him who he is.

There's still plenty of mileage left on their sound, and as long as they keep making records as sweet, cozy, and melodically engaging as Truth or Consequences, Yumi Zouma can keep going for quite a while with minimal depreciation.

With Satin Doll, Gendel has crafted a low-key, innovative album that's cosmic, womblike, and full of stars.

Infinity of Now is more adventurous, disciplined, and focused than any of their previous outings. Its dark and murky sonic vision is at once completely out of step with everything else, as well as miles ahead of it.

Arguably, this edition of 8: Kindred Spirits, though only a first set, is one of Lloyd's strongest live offerings to date.

It's uplifting, ebullient music for the mind to dance to, and an absolute pleasure to behold.

The Garden are definitely not for everyone and the Shearses' talent for disguising their actual talent behind pranky hipster exercises can be irritating, but repeated listens reveal more craft than they'd probably like to let on.

Cobbled together in the style of a compilation rather than a cohesive album, it's a wonky, slightly disappointing collection that provides diamonds and duds in equal measure.

Listeners looking for a concise introduction to the Staples' best work should pick up 1991's single-disc The Best of the Staple Singers, but Come Go with Me demonstrates how consistently rewarding and even moving their lesser work can be, and listened to in full, their Stax catalog is a soul-satisfying revelation.

These songs may sound fun, upbeat, and lovelorn, but there's a dour and utterly realistic undercurrent that makes Cape God Allie X's most relatable and human effort to date.

It is apparent that The Ghost of Orion was born in the aftermath of strife, strain, and fear; but these are balanced by gratitude, endurance, and even benevolence; the conflicting tensions exist with no attempt to alleviate them, and all of these qualities are among the many reasons My Dying Bride has, for more than three decades, reigned at the pinnacle of doom metal.

Dungen Live certainly captures the side of the group that's more interested in exploration than writing catchy psych-pop songs and shows that they are the equal of just about any other band of their ilk that might want to take a run at them. It may not be essential Dungen, but it is well worth tracking down and giving a spin any time some good old fashioned uninhibited psychedelic wandering is what the doctor ordered.

Longtime Districts fans may well be surprised by the surfaces of You Know I'm Not Going Anywhere, but after a few listens it's clear this music has as much (or maybe more) that connects it to their past than that which separates it from their larger body of work.

Dark Matter cements him as one of the most exciting jazz musicians of his generation.

We Are Sent Here by History is final proof that Hutchings is a modern jazz prophet; he sees the past as merely a jumping-off point for exploration, not only in music but in philosophical concepts, cultural theories, and spiritual precepts as an aesthetic. With the Ancestors he goes further toward creating a holistic new jazz than with any of his other ensembles.

Starmaker is a subtle, yet quietly powerful record that feels like it's been hiding in your record collection for decades, just waiting for the right rainy day to make itself known.

With Sad Happy, Circa Waves capture the broken dreams of youth and turn them into songs meant to be played at full volume before leaving you wrecked on the floor.

As his ex-1D crew continue their own solo careers, Horan maintains his position near the top of the pack with yet another relatable collection of emotive vignettes about everyday love.

There is some good material here and they've certainly taken their reunion record somewhere unexpected, but as a whole, Citizens is a bit of an inconsistent mess.

An album that requires patience and willing immersion despite its relatively short length, it succeeds in transporting if not transforming.

Horse Lords make music for liberation, celebration, and revolution, and The Common Task is a prime example of their all-encompassing vision.

While Deap Lips lose some of the raw immediacy of Deap Vally and don't ascend to the songwriting heights of Flaming Lips, they create a mood of their own that pulls only a little from each group. Required listening for anyone already invested in either band and a wild, enjoyable listen for even the uninitiated.

Ricky Music's high-contrast, theatrical style plays out like a mini (24-minute) chamber-synth song cycle about infatuation, sex, and heartbreak -- with just enough balance between candidness and self-awareness to keep us rooting for the lead.

In The Color Out of Space, Stetson's score is, in its empathy, an actual character, one that accompanies the protagonists as a witness, portraying every encounter with an alien force without ever being intrusive.

While some of Werner's solo efforts, brilliant as they are, can seem cold and challenging, Smith's vocals on the album draw out the levity and excitement for exploring new ideas that might not be apparent otherwise.

Despite a few poignant moments, Manchester Calling is dominated by lively, playful songs, and though the track list might have been improved by cutting a handful of the more similar ones, the couple can't be justly accused of allowing any filler.

Dixie Blur is Wilson's most personal and direct collection of songs. They are wrought poetically from memory and inspired by the excellence of the sublime performances from his sidemen.

It's new territory for a producer known for his willingness to experiment, and finds Weber's unique voice growing as he plays with new instruments, tones, and ideas.

Intense and thrilling, The Allegory is a powerful work with uncomfortably realistic and poignant snapshots of American life that linger long after the last song has finished.

Sorry You Couldn't Make It declares there should be a place for Swamp Dogg in the country pantheon alongside Charley Pride, Stoney Edwards, Darius Rucker, and the other brave artists who've confronted the color line in Nashville.

Thanks to the caliber of players in the new James Hunter Six, he is challenged and supported in equal measure. While Hunter may be unapologetically retro in his inspirations, he is unrelentingly modern in his use of vintage music; for him it is ever present in the music he makes, and that's the exact opposite of being nostalgic.

Thankfully, Rose welcomes ambiguity in her songs, letting her lyrics cut against the sleek throb of her music. This tension lends Superstar its resonance: it's an album that admits that the darkest parts of fame are what make it so seductive.

Simulcast could be thought of as the more "background music" version of Weather, but even without lyrics, it's still meant to put your mind in motion. Both versions are equally worth the roughly half-hour it takes to listen to each.

At once exploratory, expressive, physical, and reflective, On Circles never forsakes musicality for dramatic affect but achieves it in spades nonetheless.

For his part, Jennings deftly plays to the duo's strengths and surrounds them with a complementary sonic environment that dips and swells in all the right places, helping to keep the Mastersons just slightly adjacent to Americana's more obvious paths and in their own unique little world.

From This Place integrates and illuminates most of Metheny's musical personas. His compositions allow this stellar collective to roam through them with their many strengths. They ultimately provide fans an abundance of listening pleasure. Even in a catalog filled with so many gems, From This Place shines brightly.

Comforting but inspiring, lively yet contemplative, Eyelet is easily Islet's strongest and most accessible album, and being invited into their world like this is a delight.

This music shows that Buck is a very good friend to have in the studio; he knows how give a song the setting it needs, and this is a dark but richly entertaining delight.

After a few listens to England is a Garden it's hard not to think that they have finally hit the target right in the center and reached their very particular and unique brand of perfection.

Subtlety is her strength and that skill is still evident in her witty, elegant turns of phrase, but the distinguishing characteristic of Your Life Is a Record is warmth. From its enveloping sound to its empathetic tales, the album feels openhearted and comforting, a sensibility that helps the record seem charmingly out of step with the times.

Traditional Techniques feels starkly openhearted and relaxed, which means that the album can surprise emotionally even if it is firmly rooted within his musical wheelhouse.

Collector feels a bit uneven at times, but in the end Disq has enough attitude and smart ideas to keep things exciting.

Between its warm sonic patina and the personal nature of its material, Silver Landings stands as Moore's most mature work to date, making for a strong if understated comeback.

It's another huge step forward for the uncontainable U.S. Girls organism, one that skillfully combines the immediacy of personal memories with Remy's uncanny ability to inject her singular creative voice into every sound she touches.

No matter how many years go by between their albums, the adventures they embark on are irresistible.

Saturn Return hews closely to the evocative, Southern gothic swoon of its predecessor, 2017's splendid You Don't Own Me Anymore, but it does so with the dividend of confidence that the latter effort had to earn.

In other hands, that much material could turn into a tedious slog, but Lil Baby manages to keep every moment fresh, finding a unique and unlikely midway between artistic inspiration and commercially viable entertainment.

Elkhorn spends The Storm Sessions softly constructing the sonic equivalent of the situation they were in: stuck inside with no way out, passing the hours while the snow silently piled up outside.

Wasted Shirt is a collaborative project in the best sense, as the strengths of both Segall and Chippendale are at the forefront on Fungus II, and if this album is less accessible than most of Segall's recent releases, it has excitement and daring to spare.

Supervision is some of Jackson's most consistent work, and hearing her have this much fun growing into her music -- and herself -- is infectious.

Although Unlocked concludes almost as soon as it starts, Curry and Kenny pack so much into this short release that repeat listens are a must and, indeed, a pleasure.

While Bieber's voice still sounds like that of a mid- to late-teen, singing seems to come more naturally to him, and his falsetto pleas are neither bitter nor entitled, strictly genuine and adult.

The project's first album is a chaotic, unsettling mess filled with manic, distorted beats, mutated samples, and several varieties of intense vocalizations, from suffocated guttural screaming to commanding operatic virtuosity. While registering as some form of post-metal on the surface, the album is actually devoid of guitars.

Though the songs here aren't quite as immediately infectious as Clean, its combination of deceptively warm surfaces, alluring melodies, and subtly distorted textures reward repeat listens with that sense of discovery.

These kids know exactly what they want to do and they have the skills and imagination to make it work like an improbable magic trick. Which is what a band needs to beat the sophomore slump as decisively as they do here.

At a time when deep Southern soul isn't doing a whole lot better than the blues in the marketplace, Robert Cray is an effective cheerleader for both forms, and That's What I Heard shows that after 40 years of record-making, he's in no way tired or short on ideas and inspiration.

Real Estate grow up gracefully on The Main Thing while keeping a tight hold on the low-key charm and talent that made them stand out.

The album continues developing the language that Caribou has been working on for years, branching out from the clubby spirit and melancholic reflection of recent albums for more lighthearted sonic atmospheres.

As a whole, Printer's Devil is both stronger and sweeter than their prior sets, likely resulting in a more lasting impression for casual listeners and a surefire hit for established fans.

All told, Forward Motion Godyssey isn't quite as much fun as Post Animal's debut, but they still deliver that characteristic warmth as well as uncommonly sharp hooks, fills, and theatrics of a nature that should delight air guitarists and drummers everywhere.

Sometimes intricate, but more of an album-length mood that a collection of memorable songs, it's strangely well-suited for attentive headphone listening and for unwinding.