Like the first Georgia album, Seeking Thrills is a sophisticated, emotionally complex pop effort that seems to encapsulate the London native's life experiences to date.

As both a symbolic avatar for her life changes and a strong empowerment statement, I Disagree celebrates Poppy's rebirth as a pop-metal alchemist and unabashed rule-breaker.

For the most part, this approach works about as well as it did on their early releases, resulting in a warm but weary amalgam of the Everly Brothers' innate musicality and the Avett Brothers' homespun approachability with a touch of Elliott Smith's downcast ruminations tossed in for good measure.

Truly a natural-sounding collaboration, Saariselka's debut is rich, evocative, and sublime.

The precision may mean 50 Year Trip: Live at Red Rocks lacks spontaneity, but the album does showcase Fogerty at the height of his showmanship. He performed at Red Rocks to entertain the crowd by playing the hits, and what worked in concert works on record, too.

At times, Please Excuse Me for Being AntiSocial feels like it's trying to offer something for everyone, and it becomes difficult to locate Ricch's personality among the different window dressings. Regardless, it's a strong collection and highlights how Ricch can mold himself into different styles and keep things exciting in almost any stylistic configuration.

It takes skills to make a record this smooth and soft without it ever being boring or sounding trite. Noir has those skills and AM Jazz is another example of his abilities as a songwriter, performer, and above all, maker of fine recordings.

Michaela Anne's apparent disinterest in the slick, hollow approach of most contemporary country would have identified Desert Dove as something different regardless of the production, but Outlaw and Winrich helped make this into a striking, satisfying collection of songs that confirms Anne's status as one of country's freshest and most interesting new talents.

The 1969 Ann Arbor Blues Festival is widely regarded as a legendary event among blues purists, and this set lives up to the hype; anyone who loves the blues raw and direct will be thoroughly knocked out by this collection.

Combined, the music, essays, artist photos, and complete lyrics in the booklet make The Time for Peace Is Now an essential compilation -- no matter your beliefs or lack thereof -- for any fans of '70s soul.

More enjoyable overall than Gang Signs, Heavy Is the Head is a well-rounded mix of toughness and sentimentality, and another rightful triumph.

Brutus sound more focused, more visceral, and more locked in with each other throughout. The songs are heavy and ominous but also tap into a sense of passion and vulnerability. The combination is powerful and sophisticated, and the beast that Brutus is becoming on Nest feels unstoppable.

It's a modernization of his sound but not a bowdlerization; if anything, it's perhaps the finest realization of Holmes' blues. At the very least, it's certainly the liveliest and boldest album he's made.

Ballet Slippers excels at capturing the conflict that must have existed for Animal Collective after turning in their most successful and adored work. It might be too challenging for the casual listener, but that particular challenge is intrinsic to most of Animal Collective's work.

Stott's music is disorienting and sickly, but it's also undeniably full of life, and It Should Be Us is just as fascinating as one would expect.

The makeshift album drags, even with its stylistic diversions. Bad Vibes Forever is less a testament to how XXXTentacion helped shape the wave of rap during his brief career and more a bottom-of-the-barrel-scraping of partially cooked ideas he left behind.

It's still Duster to the core -- as sad, exhilarating, and powerful as ever -- but it's colored by 20 years of life experience and dipped even more deeply in melancholy. At a time when almost every band ever has reunited to make disappointing, derivative music, Duster have come back to make their most sonically challenging and emotionally invested record yet.

For an album that hinges on frantic idea swapping, Birthday manages to consistently surprise, making it something of a celebration of kooky guitar-driven pop, all the while maintaining momentum and a sense of unbridled joy.

Production-wise, this roams around with some abrupt switches, supplying slow-motion and spaced-out grooves, low-profile boom-bap, and wayward guitar scrawl with highest frequency. Hynes' downcast disposition and the return of several Negro Swan collaborators -- Lu, Isiah, Pat, and Porches -- provide the continuity.

He certainly talks like he wants to make music that stands the test of time and really matters to people; if that's ever going to happen, he'll need to make records go beyond pleasant and enjoyable. Despite the handful of songs that touch of his potential for greatness, Fine Line isn't quite there yet.

Strange and exciting as ever, So Much Fun touches on the various elements of Young Thug's unconventional appeal and also turns in some of his best material to date.

While earlier recordings like Sonno and Risveglio seemed fragile and distant, this one is far more upfront, with haunting melodies leading most of the pieces, and a steady sense of progression throughout.

PSYCHODRAMA has all the makings of a generational classic. Packing dense lyricism, poignant introspection, and resonant production into a neatly compiled concept, Dave's debut album is the product of a MC beyond his years, standing firmly among the Godfathers and Made in the Manors as one of the strongest British rap albums of the decade.

All of these pieces have aged incredibly well since they originally appeared, and in some cases they're actually more engaging in retrospect -- they're so packed with details that even obsessive fans might have missed something before.

The repetition is noticeable but ultimately minor for the box's target audience of dedicated Floyd fans, who will surely appreciate the care given to both the remastering and the packaging. On that level alone, The Later Years is something of a wonder, which means it's certainly worthwhile for those who have the interest and the cash to partake.

Like its predecessors, Coin Coin Chapter Four: Memphis isn't "easy" to listen to, nor should it be, given the nature of what it explores and explicates. That said, it is a necessary, engaged art that bears repeated listening for its revelation to unfold and hopefully open a gateway to understanding. Arguably, it is the strongest and most compelling of the Coin Coin releases thus far.

Strictly speaking, there aren't many unheard tracks here. Everything from the Spying Through a Keyhole, Clareville Grove Demos, and The "Mercury" Demos sets are here, along with a brand-new mix of the Space Oddity album by Tony Visconti, one that restores "Conversation Piece" as part of its sequence. Setting aside the new mix of Space Oddity, that leaves 11 tracks out of 75 that are making their debut here, including several that have never been bootlegged and a couple that weren't even known to exist.

The collection's 70-odd tracks can be a little daunting, but appreciated one song (or album) at a time, the creaky magic of the group becomes apparent. Beat Happening existed in a rare and singular space, unmoved by anything outside of the excitement of creating art on their own terms.

While some of the musicians play with the frameworks of Allison's music -- most notably Robbie Fulks' fractured reading of "My Brain" and the electro-processed New Orleans vibe of Iggy Pop's "If You're Going to the City" -- most are content to find a middle ground between their own signature approach and Allison's laid-back but emphatic groove.

Dusty is another winning set of pointed observations from Sandman, who effortlessly unloads his thoughts without seeming like a burden on the listener.

The mix superbly demonstrates how the contemporary jazz scene and club culture have cross-pollinated and influenced each other.

Opening piece "Disappearance / Reappearance" recalls the second part of 1994's Treetop Drive, with stark blasts of electronic noise repeatedly shooting out and dissipating into empty space, providing a consistent series of electrifying jolts that are as brutal as they are mesmerizing. Most of the remaining pieces are a series of numerically titled "Occultations," and while they usually aren't nearly as harsh, they're just as striking.

Balances the adventurous and traditional sides of Tiersen's music in a way that honors the sense of wonder and beauty in his work since the beginning.

Front-loaded with mostly forgettable trifles, the album is saved by this bountiful back-end, which plays like an early prediction of a potential greatest-hits collection.

The set moves from strength to strength, but honestly, this is to be expected, as they made very few missteps on their first two records. Although this doesn't paint a complete picture, the recording does capture the added layers of dissonance and Talbot's erratic on-stage persona, as he switches from a snarling, sardonic showman to a political advocate to a humble bastion of the people.

More than just a remix album, Heavy Rain stands out on its own merit, demonstrating that Perry's inspiration and creative drive haven't dulled in his advanced age.

Who feels like a Who album: The two still bring out the best in each other.

If Romance is an album about Cabello feeling loved and seen by someone else, it's just as much about her seeing and understanding herself as an artist.

The effect of the short chunks of music is somewhat minimalist, but Henson doesn't stop there. He has arranged performances of the work where audiences are wired up to devices that measure their emotional responses. The whole idea definitely gets points for ambition, although that aspect is lost in this performance by the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra.

Everything clicks into place right from the start and the emotion, the songcraft, and the power hooks never let up. Comet Gain may have been around a long, long time, but they have never felt as alive or as vital as they do on this amazing and important album.

Along with her pop hooks, what makes Straus' music so indelible on Cheap Queen is her strong sense of self. As King Princess, Straus is both the chilled-out R&B loverman and genderqueer lesbian songwriter, a tangible combination that's anything but cheap, and always real.

Not everything on Hot Pink is a knockout, but the experimentation results in some amazing standouts and other songs that are still fun or intriguing, even if they're not as memorable.

Arguably heavy-handed but regrettably timely, even if allegorical, After You marks an ambitious return for the long-absent musician, one that ultimately rewards with musicality.

Williams may like to act like a bad boy but at his heart he's a sentimental cornball and, ultimately, he winds up making mawkishness seem merry on The Christmas Present.

Cut during the same sessions as Trust in the Lifeforce of the Deep Mystery, it's not a collection of outtakes or even a sequel, but a holistic mirror image that comes from the same sphere of aesthetic investigation and font of inspiration.

Shlon is the album where Souleyman reveals his comfort with his new band, who have, after all, traveled tens of thousands of miles together. He also returns to the incendiary approach of his early albums, worrying not so much about hip textures and beats as delivering these songs as soulfully and energetically as possible.

Maybe it's not perfect, but it's more than enough to be an unexpected gift from Harry, one that he deserves as much as his devoted fans.

Like the online living some of the rappers rail against, the album can be fatiguing with extended periods of exposure, and there's an excess of information to process.

There are quite a few moments where they come close to a meaningful hybrid of their past and present, some that are truly wonderful. Unfortunately, there aren't enough of these, and it's just as easy to remember Girl's misfires, questionable choices and half-baked lyrics as its successes.

Thanks for the Dance might not seem to be a major statement at first glance, but it's a missive that carries startling power, and it's clearly not built from scraps and leftovers, but assembled with a love that's equal to the knowledge Cohen put into it. This adds more documentation to the wholly unexpected and satisfying final act of a truly great songwriter, and it deserves your attention.

The Order of Nature is a good showcase for the individual talents of Jim James and Teddy Abrams, but somehow the two halves don't always make an ideal fit, though all parties concerned certainly deserve a tip of the hat for ambition and audacity.

Released to coincide with the albums' 40th anniversary and lovingly encased in a gnarly black biker jacket box, the vinyl-only collection includes half-speed mastered 180-gram vinyl reissues of Bomber and Overkill, a pair of double-live LPs featuring previously unreleased material from the era, a collection of B-sides and outtakes, a 40-page magazine, an Overkill sheet music book, a "No Class" 7" single, a Bomber tour program, and a 1979 badge set.

The 19 tracks here are all over the place, true to form for Russell and his ever-expanding inspirations. ... For all the fans who discovered Russell after his passing, collections like Iowa Dream are bittersweet time capsules, holding new evidence of his one-of-a-kind talents that still occupy a space all their own, even when unearthed decades later.

Goldblum sounds good, and his fans probably wouldn't mind hearing more of him and less of his friends.

Despite some stylistic diversity, Little Common Twist still feels largely consistent. The songs here offer a deeper view into both Rumback and Walker's individual talents as players and their profound chemistry as a unit.

Springsteen's earthy phrasing helps ground these songs and makes for an intriguing, occasionally moving complement to the main album.

Beck never lingers upon either his melancholy or his celestial flights of fantasy: they exist simultaneously, resulting in a tremulous and pretty soundtrack for moments of fleeting introspection.

Coldplay manages to grow even bigger with Everyday Life, absorbing flavors from across the globe with their most indulgent and, perhaps, poignant album yet.

It manages to enrapture thanks to solid layering and intricate patterns -- even if those patterns never really go anywhere -- yet wholly relies on listening to dance music for relaxation. With that requirement fulfilled, Bedroom Tapes shows that Woolford can embrace his softer side with effective results.

If you're looking for music that will suit a quiet night with intelligence and style, you should certainly give HARMONY a listen.

While the majority of all-cover releases feel like a holding action while the band comes up with new ideas, Play the Hits sounds like their music through and through, even if someone else wrote the material.

Favoring authenticity and catharsis, Champion is simple and straightforward, forgoing fancy concepts and cluttered production in favor of a classic set of emotive, broken-hearted breakup anthems.

Subdued and graceful, Clarke never succumbs to sad-sack tropes on In All Weather. The songs are introspective and pained with no hints of self-pity, leaving plenty of space to drift away on any of their many airy melodies.

Only the folksy "Yani's Song" harkens back to the group's more homespun genesis, but the likable A Blemish in the Great Night, despite housing some significant lyrical undercurrents of discord, retains enough residual heat to keep your feet warm, like a thin wool blanket designed for mild evenings.

The mood here is much bleaker than the previous album, and there's more of a feeling a desperation in Jason Molina's vocals.

There's really no one else who does exactly what Tindersticks can, and No Treasure But Hope confirms they can not only create music of striking and forbidding beauty, they can do it in a hurry if need be.

Though it's a smaller-scale work than either A Crow Looked at Me or Now Only, Lost Wisdom pt. 2 is filled with just as much insight and compassion.

Everybody's Everything is sometimes inconsistent, but it offers a complete picture of how quickly Lil Peep's short career ramped up from making tracks with friends to worldwide fame and influence.

Stitched together as it is, One of the Best Yet is a priceless benefaction. Premier was no doubt compelled to see it through for himself and the memory of his deteriorated union with Guru. That regard for the Gang Starr legacy is felt throughout the set, a gratifying listen for anyone who can get past Guru's incapacity to authorize it.

With unprecedented access and insight into Dion's world following such a life-changing few years, Courage is a triumph of spirit and resolve.

It's obvious that Broadrick and Martin left a considerable amount of space for Ayewa's righteous venting, as the bass and drums get bigger and louder during the album's instrumental second half.

Though this isn't the cleanest and tidiest album of his career, the emotional honesty of this material is striking, and this is some of the boldest and most inspiring work of Joe Henry's career.

Using largely homemade acoustic instruments with farming tools often contributing to percussion, the three musicians create a sparse, rustic sound that while occasionally mournful, is also surprisingly buoyant.

There's a slight de-emphasis on his lyrical genius, but that's fine. It's clear that Ronnie Wood & His Wild Five love playing this music and that palpable joy makes Mad Lad a fine time.

All My Heroes Are Cornballs manages a mellow, even reserved instrumental tone without losing any of the scathing social commentary or frenetic energy that defined earlier work. If anything, the album is more intense, hiding biting and bilious (and often surreal) lyrical threats beneath a deceptively low-energy facade.

Both polished and revealing, New Age Norms, Vol. 1 reflects how Cold War Kids continue to broaden their horizons.

Blood may have been written and recorded as a companion piece to Moorer's book, but the work is powerful and eloquent, and stands on its own as a vital addition to the catalog of a talent who deserves and demands greater recognition.

Easily surpassing a thematic exercise, 2019 has some essential original material by Dacus -- particularly "My Mother & I" -- and a handful of covers that are bound to provide a lasting preferred version (or two) for fans.

In Hatfield's hands, the songs of Sting and the Police don't necessarily sound like hits -- nor are they performed with the technical proficiency of Andy Summers and Stewart Copeland -- but they sound fresh and alive, once again feeling like punk-inspired pop.

Like Ruinism, Amnioverse is an ambitious, striking record that seems to assess the entirety of existence, and it's hard not to feel moved by it.

The album offers a lighter and mellower reading of Bonnie "Prince" Billy as he walks further down a perpetually twisting path with each new set of songs.

The elements are familiar, but Hawkins assembles fuzz guitars, glam beats, New Wave synths, and operatic harmonies with flair and wit, turning Get the Money into a giddy journey to the past that's remarkably devoid of nostalgia.

While Thirst's generous length means it meanders occasionally, it gives SebastiAn plenty of room to show how much he's grown since the early 2010s. Even if his music has slowed down, it's not standing still.

The seven tracks represent different, curious branches extending out from the seeds planted by Some Rap Songs, each reaching for new ideas and switching gears when another thought arrives. It continues Sweatshirt's streak as an innovator and as one of the more compelling artists of his time.

Their earlier recordings were all top-notch indie rock, worthy of all the Omni comparisons that were flung their way. Junior is Corridor's coming-of-age party, and now Omni might have to work a little harder to keep up with them.

There are some glitchy electronic beats and questionable structural turns during the album's back half that feel a little bit out of place, but the overall vibe remains one of deep and heavy existential pain. Wave is an acutely overcast album, but Watson's gift for melody, narrative lucidity, and retro-pop sensibilities help to keep things more melancholic than maudlin.

In revisiting the traditional directly, and investing it with such a disciplined application of freedom, Xylouris White's The Sisypheans is their most compelling record to date.

What You See Is What You Get is a solid album, proudly made just the way they used to back in the 1990s.

At once more delicate and more concentrated than any of her previous work, Magdalene is a testament to the strength and skill it takes to make music this fragile and revealing. Like the dancer she is, Barnett pushes through pain in pursuit of beauty and truth, and the leaps she makes are breathtaking.

A Son may be a return to Nelson's roots, but it still fits snugly within his catalog of spacious meditations.

The tracks do an excellent job at establishing a mood, but a lot of them don't particularly go anywhere. Leaving meaning. is a decent album, but ultimately it sounds like a sort of reset or palate cleanser that will hopefully lead up to something greater.

Kiwanuka stands head and shoulders above it as a complex, communicative, poetic, and sometimes even profound collection that wears its heart on its sleeve and its sophistication in its grooves.

At times, Le Bon and Cox hit on something entertaining or interesting, but it's far from essential work from two of the best songwriters of their era.

Altogether is perhaps the lightest and most pop-oriented release in the band's canon, doubling down on bright guitar tones and jazzy chord voicings, and relying even more heavily on lush synth parts to augment their sound. While its feather-soft tone flirts with the smooth banality of easy listening, parts of the album are far more clever and well-structured than first impressions might suggest.

This is anything but bombastic, and there's much greater attention paid to intricacies and subtle details than before. The arrangements consist of calm, patient pianos, gently swelling strings, and deftly integrated modular synthesizers, which help the pieces glow and vibrate. It's a vast, involved recording, but it doesn't bowl the listener over with heavy-handed sentimentality. Nevertheless, if certain pieces catch you at the right moment, they can be tear-jerkers.

Taken on an individual basis, each track is clever and playful, yet the cumulative effect of Wildcard is ever so slightly slight, a possible side effect of an album meant to be nothing but a party. Perhaps that may mean that Wildcard isn't as emotionally resonant as some of Lambert's other records, but there's no denying she's delivered exactly what she intended with this album: It's one hell of a good time.

As elegant as they are, the melodies don't easily lodge in the subconscious, but the bigger problem is that the production -- by Lynne, who plays virtually every note on the record -- is airless and precise. This dryness is a remnant of the digital age, where every element in a recording is exactly in the right place, and if it's not quite a drawback, it does mean From out of Nowhere can be a bit of an uncanny valley: it's close enough to a genuine item to satisfy, yet different enough to disarm.

At a time when a great album from Neil Young would have been more than welcome, Colorado is instead a good one, but it's recognizably the work of a great artist, and that's more than can be said of the last few offerings Young has given us.