This album is a big step forward for Department of Eagles, a playground of sound that celebrates the pull of memories and music.

The paucity of any full-on rockers may drive some listeners back to the group's more propulsive, earlier works, but the sullen, sweet, and soulful Away rewards a patient ear.

It's clear that Goldfrapp doesn't miss the style the pair perfected on their last two albums, nor should they--this is some of their most varied, balanced, and satisfying work.

"Lawns" provides an easygoing contrast in turn, keeping the general propulsion of the album going but feeling like an easy swing into a West Coast sunset instead of launching a rocket to the moon.

These catchy, desperate, searing, and searching songs aren't always the most accessible, but they show exactly why this band has such a dedicated audience.

There's not much in the way of lyrics following the opening track, but she highlights her ethereal voice as an instrument on the harmonic study "Late Night Healing Choir." Taken together, Nighttime Birds and Morning Stars almost functions as a tone poem and is nearly as beautiful and elegant as its thematic inspirations.

Spirituals pushes Santigold's music forward while shoring up its strengths -- and for perhaps the first time since her debut, it feels like art that she had to make for herself.

If Neon does anything, it proves that Young can manage this delicate balance all the while seeming like it's no trouble at all.

When all the songs are put together, it adds up to an album that's easy to enjoy.

It's short and limited, but it's well crafted and strong, and a worthy alternative to RZA's Man with the Iron Fists soundtrack done with some wild, Wallabee Kingpin spin.

On Chapter & Verse, "4th of July, Asbury Park" is positioned between "Growing Up" and "Born to Run," the fulcrum between the early years and the maturation, and that helps fuel the story Springsteen wants to tell with this album: he's not only illuminating the themes from his memoir, but illustrating how he grew as an artist. That he's able to tell that tale within the course of an 80-minute compilation is remarkable.

United States of Horror boasts a sleeker and more crystal-cut produced sound palette than Ho99o9’s previous efforts; that’s not to say that the guts, grit, and feral nature of those releases are absent--they're very much here, breathing and festering from start to finish.

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.

The fascinating continuous dialogue between her interests and own music is further demonstrated to ecstatic effect here.

[Thurston Moore's and Beck's] collaboration lives up to its promise, delivering an album of psychedelic chamber folk that is the perfect meeting of both artists' mellow sides.

Creating an atmosphere that's brooding, anguished, and at times ecstatic, Divide and Dissolve communicate their righteous outrage in a way that doesn't require words to be explicit and effective.

Instead of party-starting excitement, the band refracts echoes of Can, Bowie, and the Talking Heads at their most abstract for an album that feels tense and bleary, like a party that's still fun but has burned on for so long that the sun is coming up and things are starting to get weird.

A few of the songs sound a lot like one another, and, like any rock & roll, The Things We Do can come off as risible to the rational heart and sensible head, but for the uncertain and, to refer to the Replacements, unsatisfied, the album is potentially relatable and potently cathartic.

Above all, it’s a mature album: Deftones skirted the obvious response to their tragedy, realizing that the left turn is a more rewarding journey.

No Better Than This proves that good songs need very little to communicate instructive narratives and complex emotions, and that primitive recording methods are still sometimes the best ones.

The Dreamer is a fitting--if not perfect--bookend to one of American popular music's most iconic lives.

Dear's vocals are at their most expressive, imposing, and sinister.

While the album is integral to its predecessors as part of a loosely conceived and articulated musical trilogy, it stands on its own as an exercise in close listening, careful communication, and quiet revelation.

As an unofficial soundtrack for ritual madness, religious ecstasy, sex, winemaking, and song, Dionysus excels.

Combining the no-rules ethos of the noise scene with the technical precision of metal results in a sound that coveys its punishing statements without sacrificing musicality and, indeed, exists as an artistic embodiment of off-the-charts anxiety.

Check the great "Extradite" ("Man, I stay on point like icicles") for instant gratification or "Basketball Wives" for an abstract take on the Miguel-flavored bedroom number, then appreciate how this album goes 17 tracks deep and never runs out of inspiration or ideas.

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.

Getting into Knives reminds us he's at the peak of his abilities in the art of record-making, and reminds us it's possible for a band to be brilliant without a shred of arrogance.

At no point are they longwinded, and they keep the variations on their sound rolling throughout the closing track.

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 Chronicles of Marnia is an album that demands multiple journeys through the wardrobe, only this time it's to fully take in the album's melodic depths rather than to make sense of its technical achievements.

Raum feels a little bit more like a transitional work than the unexpectedly solid Quantum Gate, but that album seemed like more of an overt revisit of the band's classic sound, while Raum finds them taking more chances and exploring fresh ideas.

It's more focused than Want One and as such packs more of wallop both musically and emotionally.

It's filled with engagingly warm-sounding tunes mating melodic accessibility with a winning lyrical evanescence powered by the same kind of poetic dream logic that's cropped up in Califone's concepts before.

Carried to Dust isn't just one of Calexico's most expansive albums, it's also their most balanced, channeling their experience and potential into a subtly dramatic, chiaroscuro tour de force.

A sophisticated, mature, and altogether superior follow-up.

Toward the Low Sun is crushing in its sadness, unrelenting in its sweetness and pure aural emotion.

Cannibal Sea is the equal of anything the Ladybug Transistor have released (which is saying a whole lot), and is better than just about any indie pop or rock circa 2006.

Even if the producer's layered constructions cover the spectrum genre-wise, the overall feel of Some Cold Rock Stuf is classically J-Rocc and generally Stones Throw, coming with that right combination of lazy, purposeful, clever, odd, and organic.

The Singing Mailman Delivers doesn't do much to rewrite Prine's early history, but it confirms he revealed a remarkable talent as soon as he put his mind to writing songs, and it's an entertaining addition to his catalog for longtime fans.

Just like East of Eden, Other Worlds works both as a sonic experiment and as an expression of Bergsman's adventurous soul.

Throughout the album, whether he's coming off like a rootsy road dog or a post-Tin Pan Alley piano balladeer, Fullbright consistently displays a level of lyrical finesse that would be impressive in an artist with twice as many years behind him, which only bodes well for his future work.

While the more approachable Album of the Year makes for an easier entry point into the man's discography, this one is deeper, and artistically more filling.

Currency of Man is a further step away from the lithe, winsome pop-jazz that garnered her notice initially, and it's a welcome one.

Fleeting likenesses notwithstanding, Bilal is a one-off, and his hip-hop soul summit with Younge, tucked inside the art of Angelbert Metoyer, is one for the ages.

In the Magic Hour lives up to its title. O'Donovan's sometimes searing, always poetically rendered lyrics are matched by astute, economically articulated melodies.

Her intricate, folk-inflected indie rock has a more conspicuous, gentle jazz presence here.

They may be channeling Incesticide-era grunge ("Datura"), jagged, Sunny Day Real Estate-inspired indie rock ("F Jam"), and straight-up shoegaze ("CCLL"), but underneath the hood Heaven Is Humming is pure, uncut Goon.

Absolutely astonishing work, and easily up there with Delay's early-2000s masterpieces Multila and Anima.

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.

Good Luck with Whatever is dad rock at its finest, unapologetically classicist in tone and full of a hard-won gratitude. But the way that it's also struck through with a wry sense of existential dread speaks to the group's decidedly un-dad-like ability to perfectly capture the climate of the present moment.

Trip doesn't overlap much with Lambchop's original musical vision, but it finds the group picking up on the philosophy behind their early work, and it makes for a satisfying and affecting listening.

While slowthai has always been praised for his honesty, he reveals more of himself on Tyron than before, and it's equally as compelling as the sharp social commentary of his debut.

The Bevis Frond isn't just a band anymore, they are almost a genre of their own making now, and if Nick Saloman keeps cranking out albums as inspired, alive, and joyously gnarly as this, the next few decades should bring many more delights.

The subtle shifts in tempo and arrangement make this brief record feel fully realized: these are renditions that are deep and soulful, carrying the same richness of Cobb's secular material while having a palpable spiritual undercurrent.

Earth Patterns rewards patience with some positively searing moments.

The Work is Gold Panda's most honest, emotionally direct release.

Eye of I showcases the immediacy and range in Lewis' musical imagination in composition, improvisation, and communication with a freer, more immediately instinctive persona on full display. All killer, no filler.

The songs are tough, the performances are rugged and real, and Eddie 9V is clearly on his way to greater acclaim by following the music that initially, and still, inspires him.

Clear Pond Road's mesmerizing sonics and songwriting make it special among her solo albums. Nearly 30 years after Hips and Makers, it offers another chance to savor the intricacies of her music as well as its power.

Goat prove once again on Medicine that they deserve to be in the top echelon where the groups, past or present, who play this style of music with an incalculable amount of imagination and an unquenchable desire to scale new heights of sound are nobly enshrined.

Twenty One Pilots tie a bow on a fascinating narrative that has captured the imagination of a legion of fans around the globe. Fortunately for listeners unaware of the backstory, the songs are reliably catchy and intriguing enough to grab their attention, too.

This sounds like it could be her best album to date, and a strong candidate for "Best of 2025" lists.

It's another subtle outing from a band whose energetic peaks once defined them, but in this later period opt for patience over power.

It's easily their most fully realized project to date and rather than simply a pastiche, they've managed to create something that's completely their own.

Those seeking the wacky thrills of Regions of Light and Sound of God might be surprised--or even put off at first--but closer listening reveals the poignant and provocative Eternally Even as a stronger, deeper album.

It's Cursive at their finest, challenging and smart and absolutely riveting.

While this sounds like it could be an impossibly tall order, or something that requires an encyclopedic knowledge of music just to listen to, the band achieve a remarkably, almost effortlessly cohesive sound, and it goes down much more smoothly than one might expect.

She remains musically mercurial and virtually unclassifiable, even if she is at her most accessible on Devil's Halo.

Ultimately, Animals is a compelling conversation between the creator and his psyche, his musicians, and listeners.

It's deliberately confusing, oddly seductive, and takes no prisoners.

It's every bit as ugly, uncomfortable, and bothered as one would expect from Wolf Eyes, and it feels like the only logical way such an expression of confusion and paranoia could unravel.

Though Cook creates both of Apple's sides ably, juxtaposing them keeps the album engaging and makes it a successful entry point to his music. Happily bridging the gap between synthetic and organic, Apple is one of Cook's most satisfying obliterations of the borders between genres, authenticity, and artifice.

Like many artists who have stripped away the noise and rough edges from their sound, what's left over isn't as interesting as it could be, and it's hard not to imagine that the songs on Cool would be better off with a layer of liberally applied grungy fuzz coating them.

Despite being only six songs, Days of Ash packs quite the punch and reminds listeners how good U2 can be when they have something to say.

With a slower pace and dreamier, echo-laden feeling than the original, guitars sounding somewhere between Morricone and the Cocteau Twins, it's an inspired nod back to a still underrated team of artists that works equally well on its own.

With third full-length Atlas, Real Estate grow even further into the sound they've been spinning for themselves, mellowing more while they become more nuanced in both playing and production.

This album's depth and excellence--only the tedious "Like That" falls short--suggest that Deykers should consider going all analog all the time.

As ever, indisposed listeners with little patience will hear Willner's tracks as distended and routine. Those who can't get enough of the stuff have another reliably durable set of techno that draws from dream pop, dub, and Krautrock. It has the potential to stupefy, if in very familiar fashion.

Understated and enveloping.

Sunbathing Animal may not be the shock to the system that Light Up Gold was; it may not be quite the sensation. It is the work of bandmembers in total control of their sound, doing exactly what they should on a second album.

Silence Is Wild is a solid step forward for Frida Hyvönen and a record to check out if you like singer/songwriters with a unique approach to be singing and songwriting.

Like the open-ended, amorphous production, the tunes all accentuate the record's general thrust of interior contentment. Musgraves, along with her regular collaborators Daniel Tashian and Ian Fitchuk, do manage to capture and sustain this delicate sensibility, creating a record that's every bit as pretty and memorable as gentle afternoon rain.

Like Richard Buckner, Zedek holds the amazing capacity to make the saddest stuff compelling, even heartening.

While the artifact quality and live vibe of this music come as no surprise, the show band emphasis of Trey Anastasio suggests that this artist may be placing a little less faith in the voodoo of improvisation and more in the payoff guaranteed by musicians who can tear up the same charts night after night.

Here there's a slightly warmer feeling. More central, tweaked vocals add a new dimension to the "hard beats + bittersweet melodies" pattern of the past; songs like the gorgeous, ice-melting "Zoetrope" glide along on simple celestial glimmers without a single bass-line in sight.

Listeners willing to pull out a shovel and dig through the layers are bound to find something new each time they listen, but for most newbies, a simpler album would be a better starting point.

The bottom line is that some of the immediacy of her rockabilly jazz is lost once she goes for romance and seduction, but Mayhem is still a fresh, invigorating record that is worth picking up, no matter what your musical convictions are; it's that good.

Part of what makes Circa Waves so compelling is that they are able to match the sound of their influences while still believably making the results sound their own. They've grown into an assured rock entity, but they've retained their fundamental sense of working-class Liverpudlian blues.

All of this is familiar, so what counts on Prince of Tears is execution, and from top to bottom, it's one of his strongest albums, benefitting from his assurance and lack of nonsense.

Overall, Where the Action Is is another reliably interesting and well-written addition to the band's latter-day renewal.

Always a unique band, with these 13 experiments, No Age has created something puzzling, beautiful, and truly one-of-a-kind.

While The Supreme Balloon's nostalgic synthetic playground is a smaller statement than some of Matmos' other albums, it's still a strong one.

Wrecking Ball feels cumbersome and top heavy, Springsteen sacrificing impassioned rage in favor of explaining his intentions too clearly.

Slow-moving and thoughtful, I Was Born Swimming thrives on its central idea of rootlessness, roving through moments of heartache, joy, wistfulness, and the myriad pangs of melancholy that accompany personal growth. Brimming with personal observations and subtly dynamic performances, Williams offers a strong debut.

She hasn't yet released one that's consistently exciting and satisfying from beginning to end, though there's more than enough here to make this worth a listen and to suggest that Deradoorian could have more interesting things up her sleeve for her next solo effort.

From nearly anyone else, The True False Identity would be a striking and adventurous work, but given Burnett's body of work, there's no arguing he can do better.

The Way of the World is not a comeback album; Henry had a nagging suspicion that Allison might have something new to say and Allison obliged. In the process they created a gem of an album that proves the pianist and songwriter still has many tricks up his elegantly tailored, eternally hip sleeve.