The fascinating thing about Loving the Alien is how it makes this period seem more interesting than the individual albums, and that's entirely due to the dance mixes, ephemera, and awkward live material. On these byways, it's possible to hear Bowie grapple with both his past and present in a hungry fashion and that desperation is alien to Bowie, so an immersion into this unease makes for compelling listening.

Pink is the work of a band in love with music, doing it for kicks alone and not worried at all about being cool or cute. It's refreshing and fun and some of the best pop music anyone is likely to hear in the late 2010s.

Hiatt's band (Yates McKendree on guitar, Patrick O'Hearn on bass, Kenneth Blevins on drums, Kevin McKendree on keys) lays a lean but eloquent groove behind his performances, and the audio is rich and clear. One hopes for his sake that John Hiatt's life is happier than The Eclipse Sessions may suggest, but either way he's given us a dark night of the soul that's compelling and beautifully crafted.

Origami Harvest may not work for everybody, but for those who take the time to explore the unexpected bends and folds in Akinmusire's construction, a wealth of discoveries can be found.

Created in a time of turmoil, Fighting Season is an album that always reflects the era that informed it, and while Thalia Zedek never pretends to have all the answers, her musings are brave, literate, and full of heart, and this is an important statement from an important artist.

Magick Songs provides a genuine journey, and that propulsion is enough to power JEFF the Brotherhood through the moments when they indulge in hazy pastiche, assembling a washed-out watercolor version of '70s sci-fi that was already a faded memory by the time of their birth.

At 67, Graham Parker isn't as angry or young as he once was, but he remains an estimable talent, and he's reveling in the pleasure of making music on Cloud Symbols. You may well feel the same way when you listen.

Frustrated, hungry, and full of rage, The Atlas Underground is a rallying cry set against an inventive and propulsive backdrop that inspires a physical response as much as thoughtful action.

Look Now is the work of a man with enough talent to take his muse in any direction he pleases and give us something memorable.

A collection of songs and finds Grant at his loosest, funniest, and most heartbreaking.

Very much a product of their time, Brockhampton absorbs what they need from across genres, sharing honest confessions from their varied personal backgrounds (the most striking provided by group leader Kevin Abstract) and reflecting its mixed audience as a voice of their generation. Brockhampton have seized upon this defining moment with Iridescence, a defining peak in their young career.

Bunny seems more like an album to mentally pick apart than dance to, yet it's not hard to lose one's self in the rush of Dear's inventive rhythms.

Jassbusters has enough chops to pull off the kind of slick 70's MOR soft rock that seems to be Mockasin's bailiwick, but as a whole, there's just not a lot to these songs to keep things consistently interesting, and the album comes off as more of an indulgent lark in Mockasin's growing canon.

If anything, ATW feels like a product of pure instinct, and while it may take some patience to absorb, there isn't a single note that feels coerced.

Overall, Reduxer is as pleasantly surprising as it is satisfying, offering an exciting counterpart for fans of Relaxer, while providing 11 fresh reasons to appreciate the original incarnations for those who might be less familiar.

Coleman absorbs and converts all the energy into something else: a joyous act of opposition to unacknowledged tyranny.

Making the most of the various environments where it was recorded, the album feels like a travel diary picked up sporadically along the way. Some entries expand on every thought and some are left half-finished, but these contrasting moods reflect the peaks and valleys of Vile's journey, both literal and metaphorical, in getting to this chapter of his music.

For those who aren't put off by its favoring crafted texture and melody over mood or structure, it's also absorbing, offering layers to uncover with repeat listens. Trivia of note: Perfect Shapes is Wasner's first time producing music that isn't her own.

They've made a classic pop record that deserves play by anyone who recognizes that songs don't need to make the most noise or be the shiniest new thing to have an impact in the emotional life of the listener. Sometimes gentle and calm gets the job done, and that is definitely the case here.

In a way, with all its emphasis on over-achievement and a continuous supply of re-recounted autobiographical content, YSIV can be as mind-numbing as the mumble rap Logic rails against, but the proficiency and fervor are indisputable.

Although Trench requires a few spins to really register, it's ultimately rewarding and fully immersive, delivering a depth and gravity at which Twenty One Pilots only hinted on Blurryface.

Taken as a reaction to toxic politics, a relentlessly discouraging news cycle, and generally raw emotions, Vitriola is a beautiful slice of wild anger. While it can feel relentless at times, these songs find Kasher and his bandmates swinging at anything that moves with all the passion and power of their best albums.

Here, Tunstall has rekindled the fire with one of her tightest and most inspirational records to date.

A great relaxed and restrained psychedelic album.

A stunning display of the grit and poetry that have been hallmarks of her music for decades, Possible Dust Clouds makes a convincing case that Hersh is becoming a more powerful, more creative rocker as the years pass.

Apart from the two new songs that bode well for future albums of original material, there is absolutely no reason for Echo fans to choose a spin of The Stars, the Ocean & the Moon over another listen to the songs in their original perfect state.

As tender as it is uncompromising, Wanderer is exactly the album Marshall needed to make at this point in her career and life. It's some of her most essential music, in both senses of the word.

It's probably premature to call Dose Your Dreams Fucked Up's masterpiece, but most bands would be very lucky to make something this daring and accomplished once in their careers, let alone twice.

All the songs make sense narratively and on their own, so they hold together well and would amount to a first-rate soundtrack, if it weren't for those meddling dialogue tracks, which wind up sapping any kind of momentum for the album.

With greater emotional depth and sonic clarity than her past recordings, Working Class Woman is an exciting breakthrough for Davidson.

Taken together, the record's simple ballroom dance rhythms, memorable melodies, and nuanced performances are a recipe for pop confection, however unhappy.

Blood Red Roses is indeed a personal record, capturing the snazzy life of an aging old sap who to this day has never seen a dull moment.

At first this can feel less immediate than previous work, but much like Phosphorescent's winding journey, C'est La Vie burns slowly and leaves impressions both spiritual and sonic that merit repeat listens.

For all the excess and buildup, this exhibits Wayne on an upswing, lucid and invigorated.

While it does contain a few songs that could be split off and saved, it mainly goes to show that she makes for a better melancholy dream pop artist than a singer/songwriter with her toes dipped in Americana and soft soul.

Across the record, Lenker covers big emotions and small moments, noticing horse tails, eyelashes, and silences. The immediacy of the performances has the effect of eavesdropping on a late-night living room lament.

Instead of going big, the way he did on 2014's burly Outsiders, he's keeping things small, a decision that highlights the many savvy ways he expands American musical traditions even as he adheres to them. Perhaps these variations on themes are subtle but this confident sense of sonic adventure when combined with Church's expert craft results in a satisfying album.

Without losing any of the energetic fizz of their youth, Swearin' look honestly at their lives moving forward, arriving somewhere vulnerable yet impressively more confident than before.

Electric Messiah proves that High on Fire can still blow the unholy horn of plenty, and while fans will know just what to expect when dropping the stylus, that knowledge takes nothing away from the Epicurean pleasure of sidling up to a favorite feast.

The Window remains an intensely intimate listen, as if Salvant and Fortner are playing just for you.

This return to the Amory Wars concept is welcome. Even the few seemingly out of place moments are deliberate diversions to reward longtime fans. That said, in an era of renewed appreciation for prog metal in general, this offering should draw legions of new listeners.

As with any of Ashworth's albums, this is an excellent set of poignant narratives that speak directly to human emotions without romanticizing anything.

A confounder rather than a crowd-pleaser, Fabriclive 100 is nevertheless a highly thought-provoking glimpse into the minds of two brave individuals who think very differently than anyone else.

For what it's worth, buried beneath the posturing and obnoxiousness lies a glimmer of promise. However, Bhad Bhabie requires some polishing and maturity if she's ever going to grow beyond a mere novelty.

Continuing in the direction of Fred Thomas' previous two albums, the equally outstanding All Are Saved and Changer, Aftering is filled with vivid descriptions of particular moments from throughout the prolific songwriter's life, as well as more general encapsulations of the bleak, uncertain feelings clouding the landscape of late-2010s America.

This box winds up as a fitting tribute to a rocker whose touch was so casual, he could be easy to take for granted, but when his work is looked at as a whole, he seems like a giant.

Although there's nothing groundbreaking on this album, Young Romance is warm and pleasant from start to finish, ideal for sun-kissed afternoons and carefree nights.

Undeniably dark and haunting, Burn Slow succeeds in taking the listener far from the beaten path while living up to Liebing's artistic standards.

The songs are strong but the reason to listen to Bad Mouthin' is the performance, how White maintains his thick, heavy mood from beginning to end, always sounding compelling through the familiar changes.

That AAARTH feels cathartic comes as no surprise, as the trio have long been purveyors of both aural and emotional heft, but this time around they've managed to crystallize both aesthetics into something truly sublime, fulfilling the promise set forth on 2011's The Big Roar.

At once more deliberate and more liberated than their debut, with Obey Exploded View challenge their listeners to be as free as as their music sounds.

This is hardly the last word on Joe Strummer's music outside the Clash, but Joe Strummer 001 should convince any doubters that the man never stopped being a talent to be reckoned with, regardless of the size of his audience.

Come for the rage on Digital Garbage and stay for the rock. Both feel intense and purifying.

While For My Crimes contains her unmistakable signature in both songwriting and sound, as a whole it point to an open door for new possibilities to emerge in the future. It's sophisticated and emotionally arresting, it's among the finest offerings in her catalog.

It's just enough of an update to feel fresh, yet familiar enough to be nothing but a dose of glitzy, cheerful nostalgia.

Ultimately, superfans might be polarized by the experimental musings of Elephants on Acid, but those with some distance will find this curiously assembled collection pleasantly puzzling in its layers of trippy appeal. Something this unexpected from such an established act can't help but feel refreshing.

Konoyo takes several listens to fully appreciate, as do most Hecker releases, but it's another excellent example of the distinct mixture of bleakness and majesty which he excels at creating.

The trio is often content to hover, swirl, and dissolve without resolution, saving only the last quarter of the 12-minute title cut for a truly needling rhythm and Wyllie's primal squeal.

The perpetually unraveling nature of Infinite Moment results in a perfectly paced listening experience that's almost impossible not to get lost in.

The ones that stand out, like "Slow Wake Up Sunday Morning," "Rang Tang Ring Toon," and "Baby Where You Are," usually have some softly strummed acoustic guitar in the background, but even with accompaniment Magic Ship feels ephemeral. That said, it's understated vibe can be transfixing, and its intimacy disarming.

The Wake signals a new chapter for Voivod; they stand (again) at the blade edge of creative imagination and visionary execution in the world of extreme music.

Claustrophobic yet adrenalized, Another Life is a goth-rave nightmare transmitted from an apocalyptic future.

Autobiography is unquestionably a vast step forward for Jlin, further confirming her status as a visionary artist. If it wasn't obvious already, following her long, illustrious career will be tremendously exciting.

Quiet River of Dust feels like its own celestial event, emitting frequencies both familiar and alien; Eastern philosophy-tinged pagan space folk devoted to gods both old and new.

Sometimes the sounds feel a little too alien to decode, but when production spirals out of control for a moment, part of the appeal of 1 Time Mirage is listening to the production team reign their wild creations back in.

The result is a bracing expression of visceral emotions that refuses to go the easiest, most comforting route, as well as the most focused Sumac album yet.

Simply put, (After) is another brave and beautiful document tracing how Elverum's sorrow and love continue to change shape.

Altogether, The Hex is a complicated record of a period fraught with loss and psychic struggle for Swift, and its beautiful, twisted lyricism and memorably stylized sound rise to the occasion.

The songs are definitely there, Phillipps' wonderfully light vocals are as strong as ever, and the sound is a perfect example of how to make a record that sounds as big as a stadium while still being driven by real emotion.

MITH is the most powerful album yet from a truly inspirational artist who deserves to be acknowledged as a national treasure.

As a whole, there is plenty of growth, craft, and quality songwriting here even if the approach is more polite than it used to be.

Metric synthesize the stadium rock of Fantasies, the moody hookiness of Pagans in Vegas, and the new wave spunkiness of their early albums into something that's recognizably their own, instantly memorable and one of their best overall albums yet.

This is the sound of a working band locking in on their groove.

As fine as Didn't It Rain was, This Too Shall Light better illustrates the diversity and power of Helm's abundant talent.

Some of the band's most entertaining and most challenging music, >>>'s eclectic experiments prove that the greater-than symbol at the end of Beak>'s name isn't just for show--they keep pushing forward, and it's thrilling to go along on the ride with them.

The Art of Pretending to Swim is a strong example of how one man with an unlimited number of tracks to fill can create a compelling and revealing collection of songs. If this doesn't always sound like what one would expect from Villagers, its emotional impact shows that it's clearly O'Brien's work.

A triumph, Chris reaffirms just how masterfully she engages minds, hearts, and bodies.

Unlike Summertime: Willie Nelson Sings Gershwin, Nelson's limitations aren't a hindrance, and the arrangements aren't excessively polite, which means My Way is an appealingly light record: it's performed with more affection than reverence.

This three track set is a casebook on the nature of true collaboration; everyone here places himself at the service of music made in the moment from mutally assured trust and goodwill; it sparks creation at every turn. God knows we need more albums like this. what an unexpected pleasure.

Unlike latter-day ZZ Top records, which are occasionally weighed down by the band's considerable legacy, Big Bad Blues feels light and free, an album that was made because Gibbons wanted to have some fun and that feeling is not only palpable, it's infectious.

Besides continuing a trend toward more structured and, at least relatively speaking, more subdued material, it also sees Hernandez step back as frontman for their most democratic effort yet.

Incorporating varied delivery and production, TA13OO taps into his established style, which combines aggressive trap with rapid-fire bars ("Sumo," "Super Saiyan Superman"), while also adding smoothed-out hip-hop atmosphere and patient vocal restraint ("Sirens," "Cash Maniac"), which was only hinted at on Imperial's throwback gem "Zenith." TA13OO is split into three sections--Light, Gray, and Dark--and delves into introspective self-examination and unflinching social commentary that tackles politics, sexual abuse, and mental health.

Joyce Manor may still be finding their footing in this more mainstream rock field, but there's a lot to like on Million Dollars to Kill Me, indicating that they're moving in the right direction.

The whole affair plays like the listener is eavesdropping on Prince creating, and there simply can't be a reissue more valuable than that.

Throughout, Thug injects his distinctive presence when necessary, pulling the best out of the YSL crew and serving as a tasty sampler of their individual talents.

A celebration of the duo's music, Woman Worldwide rewards fans who want to delve into its musical connections as well as those who want to get lost in its momentum.

To the Sunset isn't splashy: it's handsome and layered, alluring upon the first impression but revelatory upon revisits.

Twenty-five years after their debut, they still retain that power, while finding ways to surprise within their firmly defined style.

Double Negative is a brave and thoughtful collection of songs that lets Low's beating heart scream for its life against a world without compassion, and if it isn't much fun, in 2018 it's truly necessary.

Book of Bad Decisions is an excellent late-era entry into the band's vast catalog, a natural product of their enduring chemistry and dedication to their legion of fans.

Under the guidance of Lee's gentle melodies and calming voice, all the songs mesh together, though, only slightly shifting, like an afternoon under a late-summer sun.

America's Child doesn't simply address the tumult in 2018 America, it stands as a vital statement of purpose from a modern blues singer who is beginning to hit her stride.

Redemption resonates because it's simultaneously Bonamassa's most ambitious album and his most impassioned record.

On Dark Horses is a far more collaborative affair, and while it still looks inward, it does so with the kind of steely warmth that can only come from somebody who has seen the light at the end of the tunnel as clearly as they've seen the oncoming train.

As wacky as their previous efforts but driven by a greater purpose, Twisted Crystal finds Guerilla Toss hitting a new high.

It's a solid debut, both in terms of its songwriting and textures, with no "for an actress" qualifier warranted.

While Emanon's suite may take some getting used to, it is a profoundly imaginative work; the quartet concert offers a killer portrait a group whose M.O. is pushing at the margins until they give way to something altogether new.

Figuring out the why of Returns to Valley of Rain is probably fruitless, but if Gelb wants to move forward into the past with Giant Sand, at least he's doing so with style and swagger.